229 Posts
4 EP
EXP
Total
16 Years
M
"Fix"
Student-Rank Quirk:
|
Post by Hino Yojin on Jun 21, 2020 17:17:47 GMT -4
自由自在 it's easy to be paranoid when everyone is out to get you.
The perfect place for an illegal handoff, was, ironically, in public. The stereotypical contraband swap destination was a greasy alleyway in some redlight district in Tokyo, filled with broken glass, used needles, and the aroma of stale urine and really bad decisions. The sort of place where no one wanted to notice you. Yojin had realized, however, that that was also a really great way to get stabbed by a junkie, and if no one wanted to notice you, no one was going to care if you started screaming for help.
Thus, he’d decided to conduct his less-than-legal business at a gym next to a family-friendly outdoor food stall, the sort of place people were comfortable bringing their kids to. The sort of place people would actually call the cops if you got stabbed, but also, the sort of place where no one would try to chat with you. And most importantly, the sort of place that served really excellent chicken karaage.
Yojin munched on a piece of crispy, fried meat, headphones on, hood up, surgical mask on, the picture of someone who either didn’t want to be disturbed, or was sick. Or, potentially, an edgy young adult playing like they were cool.
Cool wasn’t really something that crossed Yojin’s mind. If he was trying for that, he’d have gone for something fancier than a nondescript white mask, and maybe worn a less ragged hoody. It wasn’t even distressed in a way that could be considered “fashionable;” far too oil-stained for that.
No, his mind was more focused on how any Damage Control related activities were hilariously dangerous, right now, given the massive price on “Fix’s” head. There was no such thing as an “ordinary” handoff anymore. Any time he did this, he risked getting grabbed by some villain, fanatical cultist, or greedy bounty hunter.
Unfortunately, having a price on his head made Yojin need money more than ever, so canceling his work wasn’t really an option. It was a real shame he couldn’t collect on his own bounty. If he survived the chat with the psychotic villainess, he’d walk away with more money than he’d ever dreamed of holding in his life.
That was not one of his top plans, however.
Top plan involved tagging Ishtar, digging up enough dirt to get leverage, and tossing her to the wolves. Wolves, in this case, either being “Pro Heroes,” or if that didn’t pan out, “enthusiastic amateurs,” like Redarrc and the Storm Knights. And for that, he needed more money, and more gear.
So his paranoia was in full bloom, even while he was setting up business meets. He’d triple-checked the restaurant and gym beforehand--the first time, with a flyover with a quad copter (now parked on a nearby rooftop feeding an aerial view of the street into Yojin’s phone), the second time with a driveby on his moped, and the third time, on foot before he sat down. He had Chimera “shopping” across the street, connected to him with a earpiece radio. And he hadn’t seen anything shady.
His heart was still hammering so fast his hands were shaking on his phone.
It could have just been the four energy drinks he’d had today, though. He hadn’t been sleeping great. Might have been the cigarettes, too.
Yojin wanted to smoke, but that meant removing his mask, and that wasn’t an option.
His phone vibrated in his palm. It was time.
Yojin stood, picking up his food to throw away, and shuffling toward the gym.
|
|
187 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
"The Informant"
Rookie-Rank Quirk:
|
Post by Tobias Murakami on Jun 22, 2020 2:37:32 GMT -4
let's fix this before it all goes to shit THERE WAS A RAMEN PLACE about a block from the drop-point, a little hole-in-the wall joint with a maximum of ten cramped tables and some counter space. It was the sort of place where talk was loud and traffic was constant, because the food was so good. But that left the establishment in a state of perpetual stuffiness, and the fan near the door, which blew equally-humid air inside, did little to help. Near the wall of windows up front, two men sat folded over one of said cramped tables. Each was brunette and muscle-bound, although one had wrangled their shoulder-length hair into a ponytail and looked scruffy. The other wore glasses but seemed mostly clean. Each had their own glass of ice-water, which was dripping condensation. An almost-complete plate of gyoza and a single, large box sat between the two of them. By the look of their attire, they'd just finished a workout. But this was a ruse. "Ya ever considered keeping yer hair dark and permanently losing the mutton chops, Tobes?" the longer-haired one insisted through a mouthful of gyoza, "Ya look like a whole new man. Respectable.""They're sideburns, firstly," Tobias hissed, itching his recently-shaved cheek, "Secondly, you have no room to speak. You look like a hippy. Please focus, Kyou. This is important."Kyou barked with laughter, then nearly coughed-up the half-eaten gyoza, smacking the table with his hand. One of his simple pleasures was making Tobias Murakami, Mr. Prim-and-Proper, say rude things. "Three minutes until the delivery. Do you understand the beats?"Kyou wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Make the drop, watch all points of egress, stay in touch."Toby nodded. "Good."
"Help me with the box?"
"Of course."The two of them stood, and as they did it became apparent that Kyou was missing his left arm from the elbow, down. Tobias tucked the box into the crook of his right arm. "I owe you one," Tobias said simply, "I'm too close to an eruption to do this myself."
"Buy me ramen and we'll call it even."Tobias's watch buzzed. Two minutes. Kyou set-off. The crimson gentleman (now brunette) took his seat once again. They'd been there for the better part of the day, even if the drop was that afternoon, and being pre-eruption was sapping the life out of Tobias. He fussed with the bone mic in his ear.
"How's audio?" he seemed to ask the empty seat across from him. 'Super green.'❖ A minute before the scheduled drop, Kyou approached the gym, the box tucked in his right arm. He stopped at the front desk, flashing a membership badge and exchanging a cheerful hello with the desk attendant.
"Would you like us to keep your package for you while you workout, sir?"
"I've got a combo lock. Thank you, love."Kyou proceeded into the locker room, his eyes skimming the numbers above the lockers. He moved towards the appropriate locker, setting the box on the nearby bench. By the sound of it, someone was showering. Kyou checked his palm, carefully spinning the dial of the lock. The mechanism clicked, the locker was open. He breathed a sigh of relief. Good, not wired or booby-trapped. Kyou balanced the package between his thigh and palm, easing it into the locker, before closing it again. Kyou took a furtive glance around the locker room… and then a small, tennis-ball sized orb of flesh divorced itself from his already-nubby arm. Somewhere between the stub and the floor, it became a black, domesticated rat, who landed artfully on all-fours.
"Luna… as soon as someone goes in this locker, you follow them… understood?"A nod from the black rat. It scratched the white flare on its chest. "Stay hidden. I'll be right here."The shower cut-out, the rat skittered off of the bench and into the shadows, while Kyou exited into the main area of the gym. The elliptical's had a clear view of the locker room, so he'd take his place there. As he walked past various machines, he murmured to himself-- and also Tobias. "Alright. Package dropped. Luna is in the locker room. Gustavo and Frank are in the gym itself, Pepper has the front door and Moose has the back."
'Thank you, Kyou.'Kyou found an unoccupied elliptical and took his seat. Meanwhile, a block away, Tobias removed his glasses and rubbed his nose. Game time. Had he any soot sprites left, or had the soot sprites an ounce of sense, Tobias would've done this himself. But as it were, the sprites were foolish and presently absent. Tobias sighed again. 'Relaaaax, Tobes. It'll be fine. And stop sighin', yer gonna blow out my eardrum.'"I know," the former-redhead grunted, "Sorry..." | ft. hino yojin quirk: c-rank burn, durability, heat resistance; combat abilities: jujitsu (e), magma sleeves (e), regeneration (d), cinder sprites (f)(summon); etc.: info. sifting (f), problem solving (f), interrogation (f), first aid (e) ooc notes: |
|
|
229 Posts
4 EP
EXP
Total
16 Years
M
"Fix"
Student-Rank Quirk:
|
Post by Hino Yojin on Jun 23, 2020 21:46:14 GMT -4
自由自在 creeping in locker rooms, Smh
Yojin kept his head on a swivel while he walked into the gym. Some part of him was hoping to see his client, the mysterious Amatatsu. What a silly name. Who had even started the trend of divine handles on the Tokyo Underground? The Plutocracy? Probably.
Well, Yojin didn’t object to taking the piss out of the Plutocracy, but it still seemed pretentious. “Fix” was enough for him. Short, simple, and to the point.
He refocused on the gym, trying to keep his paranoia high. This was not the time to have his mind wandering.
“I am walking into the building. Sauntering. Stumbling. Tired.” He muttered into the microphone he’d hidden in his mask. It felt stupid to give Chimera moment-to-moment updates, but god knew his friend worried. “It looks like...a gym. Surprise, surprise.”
Yojin didn’t go to gyms often, outside of illegal drops. What exactly were they supposed to look like? Sweaty people, weights, muscles. If anyone was out of place here, it was him, a short, wiry youth wearing a grey hoodie in early summer heat.
“No sun goddesses in sight. For the record, I’m picturing Vega with breasts." Yojin said dryly, as he walked past the front desk, giving a polite nod and wave to the woman at the counter.
“Friend of mine left his water bottle in his locker.” Yojin said, now speaking loud enough to be heard beyond the mic. He still wasn't a good liar, but he’d practiced and used this one a few dozen times. “If you catch me on a treadmill, you can give me an earful.”
The woman told him to be quick, waving him forward, watching him with a little suspicion. Sure. Fair. He’d only used this drop once prior, so he didn’t actually have a membership or anything, but he was feeling paranoid about his usual joints.
Yojin felt eyes crawling on his back as he moved into the locker room, sweat beading on his neck. Fuck. This was the scary part. He couldn’t help but imagine getting jumped from behind. There were so many hard surfaces in a locker room, and so little tech. If someone stronger grabbed him, they could slam his face into a sink. A mirror. A bench. Waterboard him in a toilet.
Urgh.
“I’m in.” He muttered, trying not to sound nervous. Just talking with Chimera helped. Even if he did get grabbed, he had backup. And friendship could overcome anything, even concussions.
As he passed the rows of lockers, he reached out, running his fingers along them, like he was just doing some sort of weird brush--passing through the rows, running his hands over the numbers.
Yellow sparks danced subtly at the tips of his fingers. He was actually quick-scanning the lockers, including the one he’d marked for the drop. Looking for either a bomb, or a bug.
He screwed his eyes shut. Using his quirk like this was overwhelming, and frankly, he still hadn’t mastered it. It was like having a limb wake up from falling asleep--pins and needles in a “phantom bodypart,” but in rapid succession. His temples throbbed. It felt gross.
“Check one.” He murmured, as he reached the end. “Not feeling anything inside.”
He cracked open the door, looking into the gym proper. “I see buff people inside. I suddenly realized I like bike shorts. Don’t tell Angie.”
Okay, that might have been TMA, but he was on not-much-sleep, and stream of consciousness. Chimera could roll with it. At least he was still talking.
Yojin turned back, running his hands over the lockers again, but this one was just for show. This time, he stopped at his dead drop, turning to try to hide the locker from the rest of the room with his body. He placed his hand flat against the door, and sent out a “wave.”
Combination. Lock. Light pressure--spread. Money? Yen. Two heavy objects. Hands. Nothing else.
“Knock knock, panty raid.” Yojin added. Now he was just being stupid. But he was focusing very hard right now, and that made being helpful difficult.
Hand in pocket, grab a scarf. No fingerprints. Turn combination. Crack open door, look for wire, just in case he’d actually fucked up somewhere along it, and there was a bomb rigged all along.
No bomb.
Open the door the rest of the way, still using his body to hide the locker. Two plaster casts, and the yen.
Big hands. Male. Bigger than me.
Well. Yojin wasn’t judgemental. Amaratsu could be whomever they wanted to be, as long as they paid.
And didn’t stab him in the back.
He grabbed the hands, sending a second pulse of his quirk through *them,* checking for surveillance devices in the plaster. If he were trying to track Fix, that would be his play--bug the product.
Then, he shoved the money and the hands in his bag, and quickly dropped a little yellow “Damage Control” sticker on the inside of the locker.
Every cool underworld guy had a calling hard. Yojin didn’t really want to draw attention, but…
Come on, there had to be style somewhere.
“Got the goods. And the bads? Our sun goddess has man hands.” Yojin murmured, glancing around nervously. He felt relieved that it had gone smoothly so far, but there was still plenty of time for the worst to happen. “Heading back to my bike before someone discovers I’m a fake jock.”
He still felt something prickling between his shoulders.
|
|
322 Posts
1 EP
EXP
Total
16 Years
Male
"Instinct"
Student-Rank Quirk:
|
Post by Chimera on Jun 24, 2020 11:39:33 GMT -4
464 WC goat crimes | Chimera did not make a very convincing deer, as it turned out. Even with brown dye on his fur--that had better wash out in an hour or so because if not he was going to strangle Yojin--and fake "branches" attached to his horns, he still looked too canine to completely pull it off. But there weren't many other things a person of his size and his very obvious Quirk could do about his look. So deer it was. Chimera sifted through the shelves of a convenience store across the street from the gym that Yojin had set his dead-drop up in, one ear connected to him though a modified version of the earphones Charlotte made him back in February. Threaded through his fur was a thin mic that could feed his own voice to Yojin's matching piece. Tape didn't really work on his fur so it had to literally be threaded among his whiskers, which wasn't great.
But, again, beggars couldn't be choosers.
Chimera picked up a pack of instant noodles with one hand and a rice ball in the other, looking like he was comparing the two as he listened to Yojin speak. His snarky bullshit earned a sigh through the headpiece. "Focus, please? The sooner you get out the better." His voice was quiet, but he still reflexively looked behind himself to make sure nobody had looked towards him. The store was small, but not so much that the cashier would hear him from his location, and most people in here were moving in and out faster than he was.
His next line--after the one where he confirmed there wasn't a bomb in the lockers themselves--did give Chimera just enough to snort at, which he tried to cover with his arm like it was a sneeze. "Goddammit, Fix," he huffed. Then, after a second, he lowered his arm, one brow raised and a sneaky little grin on his muzzle. "I think I have to tell her. But I thought you were in the men's locker room..." He felt a weird fluttery feeling in his stomach, but pushed it down. Like that would be the case. Except...maybe? Nah. No way.
Chimera traded the rice ball and ramen for a bento. There was quiet for a little while, sans the sound of metal hinges and clicking. Then, again, Yojin's voice crackled over the headset. Just like that Chimera put the bento down and grabbed just a bottle of water before heading towards the register.
"So they're a G.I.R.L. How long have you been on the internet? That should not surprise you at all." He whispered as he got in line. "I'll be on the street when you get out. Meet in front of the parking garage in three?"
. |
|
|
187 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
"The Informant"
Rookie-Rank Quirk:
|
Post by Tobias Murakami on Jun 30, 2020 23:02:02 GMT -4
let's fix this before it all goes to shit KYOU WAS WORKING-UP A NICE RHYTHM, his legs spinning wildly through various resistances on the elliptical. He watched each person who entered (or left) the locker-room—or rather, he watched their feet. Could that be Fix? Or maybe… that was Fix? Old or young, fat or thin, male or female, each was suspect. Of course, no women were really entering the mens’ locker room, as far as Kyou could tell.
Between panting breaths, the ragged man sung to himself.
On the other end of the line, Tobias was leaving the ramen shop with two to-go containers of ramen in a plastic bag, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His car, a silver sedan with tinted windows, was parked across the street.
“Kyou, please, with the singing…?”
“C-can’t workout without workout-tunes, Tobes,” Kyou sang back, “And I can’t just listen to you sighing.”
The faux-brunette groaned theatrically, dropping his hand to rummage into his pocket for his keys. He found them, pressed the button to unlock the doors, and set the to-go containers on the floor of back seat. Kyou’s serenade continued to warble from the bone mic in his right ear.
“Oh, hey, think that’s him.”
And just like that, the serenade was over. Tobias shut the driver’s side passenger door, and opened the driver’s door, sliding into the seat, buckling his seatbelt. Keys in the ignition.
“Over one-and-a-half meters tall, closer to two but not quite, slender, male-passing, could just be a slender girl though,” Kyou’s voice came thinly through the earpiece. His voice had lost its lilt, “Caucasian skintone, surgical mask, grey hoodie, hood drawn. Luna’s tailing him.”
“Understood.”
Tobias turned his key in the ignition, his car sputtering to life.
“Heading east from the gym, keeping a casual pace. Ball is in your court, Tobes. I’ll follow shortly, once he clears the windows.”
“Thank you, Kyou. Which one’s Luna again?”
“The Berkshire!”
If Fix (or his associate) was heading East, that meant that they would either cross the street ahead of Tobias, or round the corner onto the street where Toby was parked. The crimson gentleman reached into a compartment above the rearview mirror, withdrawing a pair of sunglasses rimmed in black-plastic. Sunglasses were donned, the seat was reclined just enough that Tobias seemed in repose but could still see out the front window.
If they deviated, then his car was still idling, and following them should be no problem—Tobias would simply be at Kyou’s, and his rat’s, behest.
Toby leaned back into the driver’s seat, tucking an arm behind his head, and turning his face sideways. He opened his mouth slightly, set a hand upon his chest. There, the perfect illusion of a slumbering driver. And yet, he could keep his eyes open behind the sunglasses.
A minute passed. Time trickled by, unforgivingly slow. Wrong hoodie colors, wrong attire altogether, wrong body types, no rat, no rat, no rat. He had to have deviated.
And then—there! A svelte black rat was bounding cheerfully down the pavement, clearly pleased with having found the person they were following. The person… matched the description, and was toting a rather familiar box beneath their arm. Tobias scarcely breathed, keeping his face carefully lax and making no indication of seeing their mark, or even being conscious.
Goddamn that surgical mask. He could assume why they were wearing it, of course, but… hurgh. Blonde hair peeking from beneath the hood. Unusual enough, in Japan. Eyes not visible from this angle. Otherwise, Kyou’s observations were spot-on.
Tobias waited until Fix, or their associate, slipped out of view before bringing his seat out of its reclined position, puffing his cheeks out as he exhaled. Moments later, the rat bounded from view, and then Kyou followed suit. Go-time. He would tail them from a safe distance, weighing whether or not now would be a safe time to cross paths with them, and then make his next moves from there. The last thing he needed was to get his car trashed over a misunderstanding.
The gentleman checked his side-view mirror for oncoming cars, and pulled away from the curb. He’d flip a U farther up the street, so as not to raise suspicions.
“I have a visual, following at a distance,” he murmured, “Luna still on him?”
“You betcha. I’m halfway up the block, too. Keep ya posted.”
“Thanks.”
| ft. hino yojin quirk: c-rank burn, durability, heat resistance; combat abilities: jujitsu (e), magma sleeves (e), regeneration (d), cinder sprites (f)(summon); etc.: info. sifting (f), problem solving (f), interrogation (f), first aid (e) ooc notes: musical interlude, brought to you by kyou. |
|
|
229 Posts
4 EP
EXP
Total
16 Years
M
"Fix"
Student-Rank Quirk:
|
Post by Hino Yojin on Jul 21, 2020 14:15:52 GMT -4
With each step away from the gym, Yojin’s nerves jangled a little less, danger fading into the distance. He fought the urge to rip off his mask, and take a breath of fresh air. He might be safer, but “safer” only mattered in relative terms right now.
He pulled out his phone, swapping to his drone control app, and gently coaxed the little contraption to life, spinning up its four engines, and carefully hovering it over rooftops, stopping in front of a shop for a moment to make sure he didn’t crash it. Yojin really didn’t want to lose another one of his eyes in the sky, or worse yet, have to beg some confused shopkeeper for roof access to rescue it.
“Say high to Tsutsuji Jr as it flies by!” Yojin muttered into his microphone, referring to the drone, which, if anyone were to look at closely, was painted in black-and-yellow stripes. It felt weirdly blasphemous to use his heroic professor’s name on a surveillance drone, but he liked the colors.
The little drone bobbed and wove across the street, sharing a fish-eye view through Yojin’s phone, before landing on a ledge outside the parking garage where Yojin had parked his bike. He’d been tempted to buzz Chimera, but...stealth.
Something was still making his spine tingle. Nothing seemed amiss. It was a usual Tokyo street. Kids out after school, salarymen heading home after work, people out shopping, a few cars, some pigeons and rats. Maybe more rats than usual. But. Nothing hostile. There were no packs of masked thugs, no gang typed loitering outside alleyways. Maybe it was just the bounty making him extra-twitchy.
He stopped at the entrance of the parking garage, opening up his com again. “At the garage. See? Not so bad. We'll be out in a jiff."
The garage was dark, musty, and mostly empty of people, which wasn’t even slightly remarkable for a parking garage. Yojin paused at the entrance, reaching out to pick up his drone, quickly inspecting it for damage, then folding the prop-arms in, and sliding it into the bag as well. Then he started into the depths.
____________________________________________________________________________
One floor down, utterly unknown to Yojin, a group of three teenagers had gathered around the parked, spray-painted moped Yojin affectionately called “the Dethcycle.” Even at a glance, they looked like trouble--Japanese street punks, the sort that wore long-leather coats, fingerless gloves, and carried switchblades and tire irons. Their own bikes, which looked like the purebred stallions of the motorcycle world next to the ancient Donkey of the deathcycle, had closed in around Yojin’s bike, blocking it in place.
Adding to it, two more street thugs were hovering at a distance, one by the stairs down, and the other near the car ramp down, both clearly on lookout duty, grumpy, bored, but aware.
One of the trio--a guy--the broadest of the three, a hulking specimen with arms that hung past his knees, looks around for what must have been the third or forth in the past half-hour, a frustrated look on his face.
“Maybe he ditched it.” He mumbled, quiet, sullen toddler-like defiance in each word.
Another of the trio, a whip-thin girl replied, tone sharp and biting. “No one ditches a bike with a paint job like that.”
She raised her hand, the glint of a knife catching the garage lights, tapping it meaningfully on the side of Yojin’s bike.
“He’ll be back. And when you see him...remember that bounty.”
The third of the trio, a short guy who was still wearing his helmet, snorted. “Yeah. An hour standing around for a payoff like that isn’t gonna kill you.”
The broad delinquent grumbled surrender, and began pacing back and forth in place like a caged bear, waiting. Yojin was going to walk right into a trap.
|
|
187 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
"The Informant"
Rookie-Rank Quirk:
|
Post by Tobias Murakami on Aug 4, 2020 15:16:14 GMT -4
let's fix this before it all goes to shit THE SEDAN MERGED INTO THE FLOW of traffic, slowly laboring up to speed. Tobias’s eyes were roved frantically over his surroundings, casing the street, checking the mirrors, checking Fix or Fix’s associate. As his car rolled past, the hooded figure procured a phone. Coordinating with someone? It was only a glimpse. Tobias turned-on his turn-signal, banking left.
“Lapping the block,” Tobias reported.
“I know.”
Of course Kyou knew. His rat was still tailing the hapless individual. As soon as the car was out of sight, Tobias pressed he gas-pedal, urging the car above the speed limit. Even with multiple pairs of eyes, he didn’t want to lose his lead just because he was trying to do a lap—and goddamn these one-way streets.
“He’s heading towards a parking garage. On the right, half a block from the ramen shop.”
“The one with the giant mural on the front?”
If their lead got into a car—that would make him much more difficult to tail, and much easier to lose track of. Their window was closing. Tobias punched he gas, shirking surreptitiousness in place of speed.
“Yep.”
“Understood.”
By the time Tobias had completed his lap around the block, banking towards the garage with the flash of his turn signal, the hooded figure had slipped out of sight.
“Where is he?” Tobias asked, “In a vehicle?”
“In the stairwell, Tobes. Breathe. Luna’s with him, I’m just checking the street before I head up.”
Tobias rolled down his window, coasting up the hill of the garage, keeping his ears trained on the ambient sounds. It would be better to park low, near the exit, where the Informant could block the exit with his car… rather than driving too far up and potentially missing their lead altogether. So, Tobias veered into the first-available spot, about a floor or two below where the thugs had staked-out the Dethcycle.
“Found a spot. I’ll await your direction.”
“Understood.”
Tobias glanced out the window, his eyes inspecting the painted, cement beams that lined the aisle. The numbers upon the beams advised the Informant that he was on the ramp between Floors 2 and 3. He kept the car running, drumming the side of the car with his fingers. At the first peculiar sound, or at his accomplice’s behest, the car would be thrown from “Park” into “Reverse”, and Tobias would rush to the source of the sound.
| ft. yojin + chimera quirk: c-rank burn, durability, heat resistance; combat abilities: jujitsu (e), magma sleeves (e), regeneration (d), cinder sprites (f)(summon); etc.: info. sifting (f), problem solving (f), interrogation (f), first aid (e) ooc notes: |
|
|
229 Posts
4 EP
EXP
Total
16 Years
M
"Fix"
Student-Rank Quirk:
|
Post by Hino Yojin on Sept 5, 2020 21:32:51 GMT -4
自由自在 yojin only takes the easy way when homework is involved
Yojin took the stairs down to the second level two at a time, whistling in a high-pitched key. He was out. Or nearly out, which was nearly as good, and with a new job that would give him more money which meant more options which meant more time to figure out this whole goddamn Ishtar bounty situation. Not every job had to be a giant risk. Maybe he’d been paranoid.
He bounced through the glass door into the lower level of the parking garage, looking back and forth to see anything obviously out of place while he bounded past rows of parked cars. Nothing instantly sprung out, his bike was just around the corner, and--
WHAM
Pain exploded across the back of his head.
The parking garage turned into a surreal blur. Yojin felt the world slow down, stretching into a panorama of the dirty concrete under his feet as he tumbled forward. Someone was shouting behind him, but when Yojin tried to talk, nothing came out but “uuugh.”
He managed to get his hands up. It might have spared him a broken nose, but the fall hurt, even worse than the first hit, red burning spikes shooting up his arms and chin. His earpiece went flying, bouncing underneath a car.
“--GOT HIM! HE’S OVER HERE I FUCKING GOT HIM!” The voice behind him shouted.
Yojin opened his mouth to yell for help, but nothing came out but an agonized wheeze. Footsteps behind him. Footsteps, and a strange sound. Like a basketball being dribbled. He tried to look, but couldn’t make out more than a shape. Someone big, wearing a hoodie, with something glowing and gold moving between their hands.
Fuck.
Come on. This was a public parking garage. They couldn't just do this.
His eyes were full of tears, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He’d bit his tongue. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. God. He was going to die. He was going to get abducted in some shitty Tokyo garage, and die. Fuck, what was he even going to do? Pull out his taser? Maybe he could just stay down. Chimera might be able to get to him in time. Stay down, or--
Crawl.
Ha. Yojin never had been good at staying still, or lying down.
Yojin squirmed to the side, going for the dark blur of the underside of a car. “Dark blur” “Light blur.” Everything was some flavor of blur. Unless it just hurt.
“HOLD STILL! WE CAN DO THIS THE HARD WAY!” The voice yelled.
...This was the easy way?
Ping!
Something bounced off the ground next to him. It didn’t sound like a bullet, but didn’t sound soft. Ahahaha. It must have been what hit him. Part of Yojin wanted to look, but he knew if he tried to focus on anything but movement, he was going to stop. His arms and legs were screaming. They didn’t want to move.
He made it under the car before his attacker could move again. Heard footsteps from further in the garage. There were others. Fuuuuck.
The ball-dribbling resumed. Footsteps moving closer, right up to the car he was under.
“Out from under there, or I drag you!” The voice yelled. Softer. Closer.
Yojin flipped on his back, letting out a gasp of pain at the movement, and slammed his hand up, onto the bottom of the car, letting out his quirk in a wild crackle of static.
The car he was hiding under went berserk. The headlights crackled on, blasting high-beams right in the face of his attacker, and the car alarm went off, keening sirens echoing through the garage.
Jokes on you. Now we’re both suffering.
This was a public parking garage. Someone had to hear this shit. People didn't just get kidnapped in broad daylight like this.
Right?
|
|
187 Posts
EP
EXP
Total
"The Informant"
Rookie-Rank Quirk:
|
Post by Tobias Murakami on Nov 16, 2020 14:38:12 GMT -4
let's fix this before it all goes to shit WITH THE WINDOW DOWN, Tobias could hear all the ambient noises of the city block echoing off of the cavernous walls of the garage—there was a sort of “norm” to city noise, though. The gasp of car motors as vehicles roared past, birdsong on the hot summer air, conversation from the occasional pedestrian.
So when singularities like the jubilant shout of “-GOT HIM!” echoed off of the walls, Tobias was already throwing his car into reverse before Kyou was screaming what floor to go to into the closed-circuit radio.
“Fourth floor, fourth floor—there’s a whole gang! Fix is down, Luna says he’s under a car!”
The sedan sped haphazardly up ramps and down rows, showing little regard for anyone who might be backing-out or strolling towards the stairwell. Thankfully… no one got in the way. When Tobias arrived on-scene, a smattering of thugs were flanked around a car that was going berserk—lights, alarms, everything—
“Unusual…”
Typically, Tobias was Mr. Methodical. Mr. Ask Questions and Get the Full Story. But when a handful of quirked individuals were circling around a berserk car, in the same garage where Tobias was trying to apprehend Fix…? The coincidence was just… too perfect.
Tobias gunned the engine and cranked his wheel towards one of the hellions that flanked the car, striking their knees with the front bumper, and pushing them forward into the cement wall.
“Oh my stars, I am so sorry!” the librarian exclaimed, his voice drowned-out by the wailing of the car’s siren, “You know how parking is in this city! I merely… saw a spot, and had to go for it!”
He threw his car into reverse, parking it in the lane of traffic (without shutting-off the ignition) before disembarking from the vehicle.
In an uncharacteristically singsong voice, Tobias would insist, “I would love to stay and chat with you all, but I have an appointment with the mechanic known as FIX! You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you? He sounded so very interested in meeting the LEGENDARY AMATERASU when we last spoke.”
The absurdity of this muscle-bound gentleman first striking one of the goons with his car, and then declaring themselves to be a female deity, prompted one of the goons to sputter with a confused laugh. The fact that Tobias had proclaimed this (or tried to) over the wailing of the car only added to the bizarreness of it all.
“So… hand ‘m over,” Tobias concluded, “Or… y’know, we can do this the hard way, too.”
| ft. yojin + chimera quirk: c-rank burn, durability, heat resistance; combat abilities: jujitsu (e), magma sleeves (e), regeneration (d), cinder sprites (f)(summon); etc.: info. sifting/investigation (e), problem solving (f), interrogation (f), first aid (e), disguise (f) ooc notes: now that i hit one of your guys with my car... wanna talk about it? ;) |
|
|
