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Post by Court Baron Butters on Jul 8, 2015 2:02:24 GMT -5
"What is in a name? That which we call a crime by any other name would sound as dastardly; So a heist would, were it not a heist call'd, retain that dear perfection which it owes without that title. Oh illegitimate cash! Doff thy name, and for that name which is no part of thee, I shall take... all myself."
Mundini was merely yelling briskly, sticking half of his body out of the sun roof of a black stretch limousine as it hastily barreled down the highway. His outburst caught somewhat of a stir mostly from soccer moms in their minivans, and the occasional crooked-eyed police officer though none of these passers-by seemed to give a second thought about it after the long 3-day weekend following a national holiday.
The limousine was closely followed by two other matching vehicles, the tint in the windows was enough to black out the sun itself. inside the vehicle was a proverbial motley crew of scantily clad women - burlesque dancers in fact - all of which employed at a fine underworldly establishment run by the 'mastermind' Mundini himself. The women were decked out in fishnets, corsets, heels, and masks. Some of which wore small personal items to separate themselves from the pack such as the addition of top hat, or a frilly laden skirt, but what they lacked in commonality they made up for with a massive arsenal of guns, blades, and bombs.
The convoy leered closer and closer to its ultimate goal, which was only a few street blocks away at this point. As they rounded a corner the charismatic Mundini stuck his head back inside of the vehicle, and put his hand on the legs of two of the dancers sitting on either side of him. He was dressed to the nines with a full 3 piece suit bought with the dirties money on this side of the globe. To compliment his appearance he wore a golden tie, and pocket square which could blind onlookers if the sun hit his wardrobe in just the right spot, and of course, Mundini would not be complete without his trademark mask, a Venetian heirloom from his parents, a simple mask for masquerade parties, and royal balls which hosted only the most powerful heads of state, and the richest of corporate barons.
Mundini leaned over one of the girls, and looked around the luxurious cabin at all of the other minions. "Girls, its time to put your masks on!" just as the words his left his mouth the dancers lifted up decorated masquerade masks, just large enough to cover their eyes, and noes. "Today, we remind the world that there is still danger out there, if living in Detroit was not reminder enough." Some of the girls chuckled to themselves, and Mundini smirked at his par humor, he lifted his hands form the lap of one of his dancers, and rose them up as proclaimed "Also we need more money for the Cabaret! So lets get to it ladies!"
[Meanwhile in The 2nd Bank of Detroit]
A distracted linda lazily propped her her head up, while her busy hand doodled what looked like flowers floating in a cup of chamomile tea, her co-worker Deborah, leaned over the desk, "Honey, why is business so slow today? I haven't greeted a customer since 10 0' clock this mornin'"
"Everyone is busy going to The 1st Bank of Detroit 4 blocks down the road." the disgruntled Linda sighed sluggishly as she replied.
Deborah frowned and laid a soft hand on the shoulder of Linda, "Maybe we should just lock up for the day swe-"
Deborah was quickly cut off by the hasty reverse of a limo coming crashing through the front door of the establishment the trunk of which slammed into the back wall of the building narrowly missing Deborah who needed to hop out of the way to avoid being hit, several of the girls poured in from outside of the building - the glass doors of which were devastated by the initial crash of the vehicle - they came from the other two limousines parked conveniently in front of the shop so that their trunks were only inches from where the doors used to be, getting inside of the building would now be tricky requiring an individual to hop over one of the limousines, there was also a back entrance to the bank that was locked with a pass code, it led into the building directly behind the bank - a fashion store which specialized in large and tall apparel for men.
One of the dancers quickly hopped over the desk the tellers were sitting behind she lifted up the metal gate that was activated by Linda the teller to try and separate the tellers from the crooks. Mundini hopped up on the Desk after grabbing an Uzi from one of the girls, he fired it into the ceiling of the bank, and cried out "Alright girls, we just need to wait for a special guest of mine to arrive, and then we will get down to business in just a moment, and please... Try not to kill any of our lovely hosts they don't need to die for us." Mundini looked over to see Linda kneeling underneath the teller desk in horror of the circumstances she was confronted with, he made eye contact and smiled lustfully at her.
Meanwhile several of the other dancers began to round up the various bankers, and hold them closely on the ground, guns pointed at heads. The brutal shock of the event caught the tellers off guard, and none of them even thought to hit an alarm in the commotion, but alarms were sure to go off shortly, especially once they began to breach the bank vault. Though obviously there would of course be some stirring occurring just outside of the establishment from the limo's crashing into the facility.
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Post by Stelpher on Jul 8, 2015 3:09:18 GMT -5
On a busy day like this one, none had time to notice the lone figure speeding down the highway on their motorcycle. None had time to speculate on the strange appearance of the individual, nor the contents of the bag on their back. Maybe a few of the more observative individuals might have noticed the somewhat old model of the vehicle, some might have even noticed the strange mask they wore instead of a helmet. But none would care. There was too much to do in a day like this to worry about a lone figure on a motorcycle.
And that was exactly what Iris had expected.
During the ride to her destination, Iris had time to run over the plan. It was simple really. Break into the bank. Open the vault. Get the cash. A simple plan yes, but it left room for creativity. She made a quick mental check over of the equipment she had with her, one could never be too cautious when pulling off a heist after all.
She could feel the weight of the gun holstered at her side - 'Check.'
Bag of assorted scraps of metal, all comprised mostly of iron - 'Check.'
Her ride.' She revved the bike once. 'Check'
And of course her mask, protecting her face from the eyes of others. Yes. What a busy day today was going to be.
Iris saw the turn-off, pulling off to the side, swerving around a few cars to reach it.
'Now where was that bank?'
Not that street. Not that one either. God, where was it? There it was. She saw the street sign, and skidded around the corner, narrowly avoiding the side of a car. Lucky them, if they had damaged her bike, they wouldn't have lived to pay the insurance.
She had taken a liking to this motorcycle. It was one of the few possessions she owned that actually felt important to her. And while she knew that from her line of work, it would inevitably get trashed, but she'd be the one to trash it, not another.
Seeing the bank coming up ahead of her, she spotted an open door, courtesy of one of the burlesque dancers. Bracing herself for the bumpy staircase leading to it, she hunched forward a bit.
A few seconds and plenty of thuds later, she was in. She steered off to the side to avoid the hostages that were the bankers, then pulled on the brakes. She beckoned over a dancer, telling them to move the bike to the alley beside the bank, and then she went off in search of her boss.
She found him behind one of the desks, doing his thing to a teller. She waited for him to finish up, then gave a brisk salute.
"Here, sir."
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Post by aardvarklord on Jul 8, 2015 13:23:16 GMT -5
Just one day. Just one where Esprit could spend the day relaxing in the park. Just one was all she asked. But no, it seemed as if everything was conspiring to keep her in a constant state of exhaustion and overworked irritation. The day had been going so pleasantly too, one of the few days where she was free and was spending some time at the park walking and going about some exercises while enjoying just about the only place in this rotted city with air that was somewhat breathable. She had been resting on the park bench, debating on going down to the library or going home to try and refine her powers. Instead, as she rested some mental case in a limo went powering by at full belt, closely followed by a pair of similar vehicles, all with blacked out windows. While she wasn't certain what they were doing, the black-out wasn't a good sigh... it made her nervous. Just another day in paradise. Letting out a long sigh, she got up from her seat and jogged over to her motorcycle, heading off in the direction they had disappeared in. Hopefully, she was wrong, hopefully this was just some frat boy nonsense or something. Being wrong would be nice. Just for once.
But alas, no. As she tried to figure out where they had gone, she heard a loud crash, and her dreams of a private day alone were dashed. Well... back to work for you, eh girl? The moment she saw the bank's doors from a distance, she turned down an alleyway where she stashed her bike, cracked open the saddle bags, and quickly got into costume. God... always something wasn't there? Those were a lot of cars though... and it was an indoor area... in a bank... which probably meant the people were armed... and that there were minimal plants inside... Yeah... this wasn't a fight meant for her. Of course, that didn't mean that she was going to leave things be. But as she saw yet ANOTHER person go plowing by on a motorcycle, she knew damn well that she was going to need back up. however, before she could consider that, there was a more pressing issue.
Esprit nearly had to do a double-take as she watched a woman bringing a motorcycle out of the bank. Are those poor sods being robbed by strippers?! Kind of looked like her own work attire actually... Still, the woman was armed, so... still a threat... whatever. To those who romanticized super heroes, the ensuing sight was utterly bizarre as the earthen-clad hero darted across the street with a slight hunch to her step as she tried to avoid alerting the killer stripper, wooden 'sword' in one hand, and then when she reached the alleyway she smacked the thief across the head with her sword and she dropped like a marionette. Well... that went well. Of course, now that the immediate threat was down, she could smell that the place was just nasty... not quite as bad as some alleys in the city, but still not great. That woman was going to have a bad day when she woke up. As she went about trying to find something to tie her up with, Esprit remembered the issue of back-up... yep she was going to need help, judging by the gun the woman had. What was that, an Uzi? Okay... needed a power source...
Looking around, she spotted a bird perched above. "Désolé Monseur Pigeon," she whispered as she pulled out Panthalassus. She didn't need much from him, and he would be fine... but she still felt bad doing this. The poor thing didn't do anything to deserve it, but there were so few plants around... and she needed to keep her petri dishes on hand. The bird cooed with surprise as the bright green 'embers' flowed from it, but otherwise just acted like any other startled bird as it fluttered off. As the jet black blade absorbed the energy, bright green arcs danced from it, and her suit began its soft emerald glow. Doing her best to ignore the sudden fear of the thieves... and the people... and desire to run like a cat had gone after her... what was she thinking? Right! Signal! Hrmm... this wouldn't work so well during the day... she preferred this at night... but it was better than going in alone she supposed--wasn't like she knew any way into the bank... though that was a pretty statue out front. Shaking off her fascination, she pointed the blade at the sky, and with a series of sparks sent a vivid green ball of fire rocketing up into the sky, and then once it was comfortably above all the nearby buildings so that it wouldn't cause damage, she blew it up. Like an enormous peridot firework, a bright ball briefly popped over the bank, casting a flash of light over them. Of course, it wasn't nearly as vivid in the day, but hopefully someone picked it up... or at the very least the police were notified dammit. She was sick and tired of having to do their job. In the meantime, she looked into trying to find a secondary entrance to the bank... not that she was expecting to find one. She didn't know what to do with the bike... but the owner was out cold (or so she thought)
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Post by Deleted on Jul 8, 2015 13:40:56 GMT -5
Detroit City. My beautiful poison. Beautiful - like a glass of Jack Daniels No .7. Warm, rich and shiny, wafting with a thousand different scents with a thousand different promises. Poisonous - like the steely iron tang of a Jack Daniels No.1. Luring you in, dancing in front of you all sweetness and honey right before the stab in the liver. The Liver. I am the liver churning with the toxin of this city. I am the last drop of righteous oaky hope at the bottom of a grimy glass cracked with corruption. I am the…I am the…I am… Old Man Trouble ripped up the page. "Patrick!" His grizzled voice croaked alone in a long forgotten Detroit watering hole. "Get me some kind of Jack Daniels, would ya?"He slid the empty grass across the bar. No sooner had the old man touched the glass, a small fracture, like an icicle, crackled from the rim to the base. The grey-faced bartender hurled the thing in the trash before furnishing his only customer with a fresh one. Delicately picking up the new glass, Old Man Trouble shot half the bourbon before returning to his half completed book and its frankly uninspiring title. TROUBLE IS MY MIDDLE NAME – CONFESSIONS OF A SEVENTY YEAR OLD SUPERHERO Seventy. “Feels like a fuckin’ hundred” growled Old Man Trouble to the world in general. He flicked through dozens of empty pages hoping inspiration would somehow leap from one of them. Where to start? That fruity agent said it needed to be pop culture relevant. What the fuck was pop culture relevant? Chasing that mugger by crashing through the wall of a Texas KFC? Ripping apart that getaway car in Michigan? He thought it prudent to avoid the collateral damage stories. The guy said that damaging public property would alienate a conservative readership. Patrick looked over Old Man Trouble’s shoulder inadvisedly. “You know, nobody reads book anymore, OMT.” The guy was just trying to be helpful. “It’s all blogs these days.”OMT narrowed his eyes. “Nobody drinks anymore either. It’s all crystal meth. Now fuck o-”There was an almighty crash followed by a droning whine from across the street. Old Man Trouble looked up. Someone had just driven a limo into the fucking bank. They’d put that thing through the doors like a Viking battering ram and now the streets which were so quiet a moment ago now glistened in the day’s dying light with freshly broken glass. There was no time to lose. In one mighty bound, our hero sprang from his chair and raced to the bar’s payphone to make a highly important call. *Newsdesk* “Yeah, I wanna report a robbery in progress at the Second Detroit Bank”*There’s a SECOND Bank of Detroit?* “Jesus! Yeah there’s a Second Bank of Detroit! And it’s being turned over as I’m talkin’ to ya”.*Ooooohkayyy. Well we’re not the police. You should…* “No, shut up! Old Man Trouble’s shown up to stop the robbers.”*Old Man Trouble? Oh I get it. Well, upload it to YouTube marked as a private video and send us the link. Payment’s fifty bucks. Take or leave.* “Fifty Bucks? You Tube? Eat a bag of dicks! And people wonder why social networking’s killing the fuck outta journalism?! I tell ya, Old Man Trouble just charged through the goddamn wall of a bank to stop an armed robbery! Send a reporter. And not a goddamn intern this time!”Old Man Trouble hung up the phone and threw his unfinished memoir in Patrick’s general direction. “Look after this for me whilst I’m doing hero shit”.With that he charged out the bar. Up, up and away. Detroit Second Bank. The aging superhero surveyed the scene. Entrance to the building was blocked by the crashed limousine. Whilst Old Man Trouble could spilt the thing in two by walking through it, every robber in the place would see him coming plain as day. No. Better to take the quiet approach. The fire escape. Every bank has a fire escape. Health and safety. The door was wooden, but the locks sure as hell weren’t. With a slight tug, the metal hinges came apart in OMT’s hands allowing the door to be pushed to the ground with a gentle shove. Old Man Trouble took a deep breath. This was his big shot. No more looking back on past glories. This is the first chapter. A brand new story for a brand new era. He just hoped those journalists got here before the police did. “Quick and quiet” he muttered. |
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Post by Court Baron Butters on Jul 10, 2015 17:48:22 GMT -5
[OOC: Welp, looks like we'll be doing a couple more post rotations with just us four for the time being Also I made a little post in the story planning section which may help people understand the banks layout rpnexus.boards.net/thread/1451/vigil?page=2&scrollTo=9034 ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now wasn't a great time to reveal his face to anyone, no that would come later, rather Mundini hopped down from the desk, and began talking to the disgruntled Linda cowering behind it. He patted her on the back as he knelt to her side, "No need to fret darling we'll be in and out for you even know it!" he had a broad smile on his face as he spoke. Mundini noticed a small name tag on the women's bosom, and his smile shrank to something less manic, and more inviting. "Linda, darling, listen" Mundini put his hand over his heart, "I can promise you, that no harm shall come to you." He took the women's hand, and they both stood up. Mundini whistled, and one of the unoccupied dancers carrying an AK 47 came running over to the pair. Mundini lifted Linda on to the desk, "Take this one up stairs to the loan offices, and make sure nothing bad happens to her." Mundini passed Linda's hand to his henchman, who hastily ran her up the stairs where another group of girls was busy tying up hostages on the second floor. Mundini was busy with the girl he hadn't even noticed his partner stroll into the building, "Rose!" he shouted as he flung his arms around the girl "How have you been, adjusting to life on the outside alright?" With one hand on her shoulder Mundini walked her to the back room as she talked. He stopped just in front of the large square vault door, noting a teller in the corner of the room on her knees - hands bound behind her back - "I don't know what you were expecting to do today, but I think your time is best spent pounding away at this safe door." Mundini tugged at his collar, and gritted his teeth slightly realizing he didn't have much of a back up plan, "errr-uh... You can do that right?" Regardless Mundini walked off to the women in the corner, and began striking up a conversation. |
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Post by Stelpher on Jul 11, 2015 1:01:10 GMT -5
It seemed that Iris' appearance had surprised Mundini, because when he turned around, he threw his arms around her.
"Rose!"
She tensed up, surprised by the sudden contact.
"How have you been, adjusting to life on the outside alright?"
"I-err, yes sir. Thank you again for all you've done." She managed to say, although somewhat awkwardly.
When he finally released her, she straightened out her suit, before he led her over to the vault door.
"I don't know what you were expecting to do today, but I think your time is best spent pounding away at this safe door."
Iris examined the vault door for a moment, looking over the whole thing.
"Errr-uh... You can do that right?"
Nodding, Iris gave a small smile beneath her mask.
"It will be done. I'll need ten minutes."
Then her boss left her to go speak to a teller bound in the corner of the room. She gave her fingers a crack, then stepped towards the door.
Iris gave the door a closer inspection. Luckily, this was a pretty awful bank. They couldn't afford a good door for their vault. It wasn't comprised completely of reinforced concrete, if it was it would have taken a lot longer to break open. There was a fair amount of steel and cast iron in the door too.
Reaching out a hand, she held it against the door, and the door began disassembling itself, the metal directly at the front liquefying and forming bars on the floor.
When she made it down to the concrete, she started to heat the rebar within the concrete, whilst pulling at the metal behind the door. If she could heat the rebar enough, the concrete would lose a lot of resistance, allowing the metal behind it to pull through and collapse it. At least, that was the plan.
Honestly she'd never tried this before, but in theory it should work. She only had to watch out for debris when the concrete finally gave.
However, Iris was starting to get a bad feeling about all this. She wasn't worried about committing a crime, nor the cops. But something in her gut was telling her things weren't going to go as planned.
She just hoped the dancer she had sent to park her bike in the alley hadn't scratched it.
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Post by aardvarklord on Jul 11, 2015 1:43:10 GMT -5
Okay Esprit... deep breaths. So, there were probably... oh... say... around a dozen robbers if the vehicles were anything to go by, perhaps as many as two dozen depending on how much they wanted to try and clown car it up. She was running out of ways to get into the place besides the front door, which was suicide, and there was probably a time limit ticking until either a teller opened the vault, the police were called and a stand-off started, or they drilled through the vault. The trick was getting in there WITHOUT setting off too much noise. As she thought that, she rounded the corner and beheld a lovely, lovely fire escape--just what she needed... though she wondered if it would be able to get in through the window quiet--*crack crack*. Frowning, she looked up just in time to see a blue-suited man slipping into the building, laying the door down, having apparently ripped it off its hinges.
Oooookay, that would work too. Scampering up the fire escape as quickly and quietly as she could manage, Esprit followed after the man, figuring that he was probably another super like herself. Someone else to take the limelight would be perfect; plus turning a fight from one on twenty to two on twenty just doubled their horrible, horrible chances. Well... maybe not horrible, maybe if she was lucky this was one of the real titans of the scene. Fortunately, the halls they were in were mostly empty, and soon she found herself creeping through the building, constantly looking for plants to draw on, and finding to her gratification that the bank kept a healthy number of ferns around. She pretty quickly heard the sounds of assorted whimpering and crying, accompanied by the occasional hushed reprimand to quiet down, all women's voices strangely enough. Not the whimpering and crying so much, but the fact that the robbers sounded to be all female, at least of the ones she had seen and heard (what few they were).
Before long she spotted her fellow super, his sky blue uniform sticking out a little brighter than it should've for such a stealthy mission. After he passed an open door which, in all fairness, seemed to be empty from the angle he passed by, she was preparing to speak up when one of the scantily clad robbers came wandering out. It was clear she hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and the moment she saw the blue-suited fellow she jumped into a combat stance and raised her weapon, clearly prepping to try and take him down. Acting quickly, Esprit rapidly ran up to the robber and put Panthalassus to her throat and her other hand over her mouth. "Uh uh uh... No sound..." she cooed softly, looking up at the other fellow, hoping he saw what was going on... or perhaps that he didn't... either way she needed to deal with her, "Put the gun down, gently please." The thief was all too happy to comply--apparently she hadn't been expecting to be jumped and was actually crying... or at least that was what Esprit thought that was what the wetness was... if it was saliva then that was just gross. Shaking off the thought, she focused on what was happening. She actually had no intention of slitting the woman's throat--she didn't think she could bring herself to do that. But a good threat was a good threat. Once the gun touched the ground with a soft *pat*, she wrapped her elbow around the woman's neck and brought her slowly down to the ground, making a soft "Sshhhh..."
Once the woman was out, Esprit attempted feebly to drag her into the room she came from before giving up the idea with a dismissive wave and coming over to the other super. Who...... looked like he belonged in a retirement home. Huh. Well, whatever. Staying low, she came over him and gave him a half-hearted salute as she whispered, "Sorry about that... got any plans to deal with the rest, camarade?" Old man or not, every hand was a good one, and she doubted he would be in the super-ing business at his age if he wasn't good at it. Maybe he was better suited at this than her and she could just bail out now... though leaving an old man to handle this alone wasn't something she felt comfortable doing.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 12, 2015 11:13:08 GMT -5
Once inside the backroom, Old Man Trouble made his way to the vault - big frigging thing by the way - and slowly started placing his hands around its metallic door. He was careful not to touch it any time. By the time the hooded dame had entered the room, OMT was already talking to himself, muttering what was about to happen to the world in general. "Five meters or so thick, room's probl'y barely twice that big so the adjoining alley's gonna pretty roomy where it comes out" Old Mn paced with excitement. "Crash through from outside into the vault, wait for the crooks and collapse the fuckin' thing with them inside. Yeah. That'll do."
So involved was our hero with this intricate plan that he didn't even notice the strange enter the room. The unfamiliar foreign accent startled him.
"Camarade?! Read the fuckin' papers. The name's Old Man Trouble, and I'm..."
But the sentence ended when he realised this was a beautiful woman. Not exactly an immodest outfit. Really didn't scream "respect me as a superhero" or "hey young girls, look up to me" but it was fairly figure hooding and by Christ, that was good enough for Trouble. Whilst many men would have turned on the charm, OMT relied on a tried and tested favourite - the loveable old man routine.
"Oh! Hello sweetheart! No no, no plans. Couldn't remember 'em anyway. Damn Alzheimers! (chuckle chuckle.). No no, when you get to my age, you realise winging it is the best way to go."
He made a show of bumbling past her. To avoid the misconception that OMT was successful in his attempt at subtlety, it should be noticed that his eyes had not moved from Esprit's tits from the moment before her.
Old Man Trouble led Esprit outside, double taking slightly at the unconscious female bankrobber on the floor.
"Interesting. So what's your thing?" He asked her. "Some kind of superhero internship?"
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Once outside, Old Man Trouble lead Esprit to the alleyway. Now they were directly facing the vault's exterior. The wall was red-bricked, 19th century and dependable. Most of all it was discreet. Nobody would have guessed that the room inside was chocked full of cash.
"Okey doke," said OMT. "You go phone the police. Sirens always draw the newshounds out. A latte would be lovely but don't worry about it if you can't find a Starbucks. This should all be pretty straight-forward."
And with a running jump, Old Man Trouble threw himself at the wall and crashed through brick and steel like a hot knife through butter. He had broken through to the Vault.
And then there was nothing but dust.
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Post by Court Baron Butters on Jul 13, 2015 0:00:35 GMT -5
So far so good, Mundini thought to himself as he stroke his chin as if he had a beard. Everything was running even smoother than he had planned. No walls caved in when they rammed the building, none of the henchman - or henchwomen rather - were hurt, they were ahead of schedule, he thought as he looked at the overhead clock on the wall, and quite importantly, no hostages had to be killed yet (except for any of the 'collateral damage' when they hit the building). Yes things were going swimmingly perhaps best of all nobody was around... that's quite peculiar Mundini thought to himself. After all that was the whole point of doing this, the Cabaret didn't exactly NEED this much money. Mundini was primarily in to remind the world that there is still something to be afraid of in the world, and that his status of prominence would be secured before the world... or at least within Detroit.
"There really shouldn't be any problem with this vault" Mundini whispered to himself, I am positive that Rose will be able to handle this... It's what I brought her here for after all He brooded for a moment, as he turned back to look at the girl. Mundini shook his head and turned back around Regardless of whether or not Rose can complete her task is irrelevant... I do of course have another plan... its always good to have a back up plan, and the lovely woman tied up in the corner was the perfect back up to the average crook her mind may be a steel gate, but to someone with Mundini's skill set it would be like a low wooden fence meant only to keep out small dogs.
Mundini eyed the woman up and down as he approached her, she was a curvaceous lady with hips best suited for things like childbirth... Or perhaps burlesque dancing. Her hair reminded Mundini of the rare yellow peony which his mother was most fond of it he was warped to a time when she placed an ornately decorated bouquet of the plants in her shop, he laughed as he remembered they were the only flowers not for sale within the store. Mundin almost lost himself amidst the woman's curls which so delicately hid her facial features from view.
He knelt to the side of the woman, grasped her chin, and moved it towards him for viewing pleasure. The woman's face was well... Less than remarkable, but she was gorgeous none the less. Though unimpressive her face was Mundini noticed a few characteristics about it which gave him a plethora of information.
First off he noticed her eye, the makeup she was wearing had become smudged which revealed a purple hue beneath the tan typical tan texture. Secondly he noticed a small patch on her skull with skin showing, and lastly he noticed a mark on her finger where a ring used to cut off her circulation.
Excellent Mundini thought to himself as he smiled at the woman. "Oh my dear, please stop your crying" his voice gathered a deeper and more silky undertone as he spoke, he reached for his pocket knife and cut the bindings at her hands and feet. "Please stay calm, we would like to get out of here just as quickly as you would, but we can't do that until we get inside that safe right over there." he pointed to the metal door where Rose stood, the lady just shook her head, and started to cry again "Now listen" he began speaking as he noticed the brass name tag on the woman's chest. "Rita, honey your not going to get anywhere by not cooperating, he grabbed the girls hair where it had been slightly scalped. "But based on the escapades of you and your husband, I believe you know that."
The woman looked at Mundini confused, and spoke for the first time 'What husband?' Mundini's eyes shot wide open as she spoke, after a second he looked behind himself to notice one of the dancers run into the room counting money she had snagged from the register in the front room 'Ready for round two, bitch?' the dancer shrieked. Immediately his eye was drawn to ring on the dancers hand he hadn't noticed before.
He palmed his face, containing the rage he was feeling inside 'Goddammit! Dammit, dammit! Motherfucker!... I gotta be better observant... her husband wasn't beating her it was just the damn dancer, her make-up was smudged not because she had done it that morning, but because my dancers are too fucking rough on the hostages.' Mundini stood up and composed himself, he put a flat palm near the face of Rita, making his message for her to stay quite clear. He quickly walked over to the dancer, and put his mouth close to her ear "Can we please for the love of all that is holy be more careful with these ladies?" he whispered.
In a dissapointed squeak the dancer mumbled 'uhh, yessir.'
"What!" Mundini bellowed back at the girl.
'Yessir, sorry sir!' she retorted back in her normal speaking tone.
It was uncommon for Mundini to lose his composure like this, but he was quickly becoming stressed, and typically he had more of a soft spot for women which is why he employed almost exclusively members of that sex, but today was a little jarring for him. He strolled back over to the women on the floor, and laughed to himself as he towered over her. "I wanted to do this the easy way Rita..." he said, she looked at him more confused than she did before.
Mundini briskly took off his mask, and leaned over the girl, attempting to avoid looking at anyone else. Rita would immediately forget the imprint of his face, and be brought to an image of pure horror. A grotesque spider with fangs that outstretched nearly close enough to touch the face of the startled bank worker. Venom dripped off of the pincers as they rocked back and forth. She felt herself starring into 8 beady red eyes which flicked back and forth. "Rita! What is the code for the vault." Mundini cried at the woman who shrieked in response as she heard the distorted voice come from the horrifying figure.
'The code is one zero one!' she yelled back in fear, it was a mere reflex... Fuck did she hate spiders...
Mundini lifted the mask back over his face, "It's just that easy toots." Mundini smiled as the vision of the arachnid vanished from his face. The woman continued to cry, as Mundini turned around and headed for Rose, she spouted 'He's the fucking devil, you're the devil!' as she slowly lumped over into the fetal position.
"You heard the woman, lets crack this thing, dollface." Mundini spoke poshly as he passed Rose on his way out of the room.
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Post by Stelpher on Jul 13, 2015 8:21:56 GMT -5
Iris had been focused on the concrete of the door for the most part, only catching snippets of the conversation behind her. The concrete was slowly starting to develop small cracks here and there, and she knew it wouldn't take much longer.
She found it amusing that her boss, for someone who seemed to seek notoriety and infamy above all else, was so reluctant to kill to reach his goal.
Oh well, that was what she was for.
She had only met Mundini's other masked companion once before, but he seemed to be too focused on his corrupt sense of justice. For Iris, it was a simple matter. She killed. She didn't decide why she killed, she left that to others, she just got the dirty work done.
"The code is one zero one!"
The yelling broke her out of her thoughts, and Mundini was soon walking past her.
"You heard the woman, lets crack this thing, dollface."
Before she could respond, he had already left the room. This door was long past the point of requiring a code, she'd probably removed half the locking mechanism anyways. But that was okay, it was ready anyway.
And then she heard a noise. Like a muffled crashing sound, as if someone had smashed down a wall.
'But they couldn't have, the sound came from inside the- Oh. Well this isn't good.'
"Boss, it seems we have some intruder awaiting us inside the vault!" She called out, and then turned back to the door. There was no time to waste.
She removed her hand from the door, moving out from directly in front of it, but still within the effective range of her ability. Then she pulled the metal from the other side of the door, smashing through the weakened concrete like dirt.
Iris' eyes were saved from the cloud of dust because of her mask, her moving to the side had stopped any debris from crushing her. However, there was still the issue of whoever was inside.
She withdraw her gun, a humble Beretta M9, and used her ability on some of the metal bars she formed on the floor earlier. They bars quickly took the form of four sharp lances, floating silently in the air. As most of the dust had begun to settle, she took her chance to peek around the corner, and what she saw definitely took her by surprise.
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Post by aardvarklord on Jul 13, 2015 11:14:41 GMT -5
(Please let me know if this is too far, Butters/whoever else. Also, sorry Harry, I love OMT, but Esprit does not)
Esprit had evidently surprised the old man, though his somewhat ignorant response to her comment already put things off on a wrong foot, both physically and mentally back-pedaling as she tried to catch his oh-so-proudly stated name. 'Old Man Trouble.' Didn't recognize the name, but then again unless it was one of the heroes she'd cooperated with she didn't know any of their like from Adam. "Actually no I--" Before she could even get an explanation out, or suggest that they just focus on taking care of the robbers, the man's attitude shifted... and he was about as subtle as a top-fuel dragster painted hot pink. The fact that even she was picking up on it spoke how blatant the guy was, it made her want to cover herself up and while his joke might have been funny under other circumstances, right now she had more important things on her mind--this old man's perversion was barely a footnote. As he started guiding her out, talking about 'winging it,' she immediately started looking behind her going, "But... shouldn't we do something to coordinate?" But... he didn't seem to take her seriously, going so far as to call her an 'intern.' And the strange thing was... she didn't know whether or not he was right... not on the intern bit, but just on her skill level. She was so bad that she nearly got herself hunted down... so all she said to his comment was a quiet "Not exactly," and quietly followed him out.
Of course... her fears were only internal until they reached the wall. And then his... bizarre statement of telling her to call the police, even though no hero in their right mind would carry their cell phone around... and then told her to get her a coffee?! What did he think she was, a waitress?! No, no more of this. "Okay! First off," she began angrily while he backed up, raising her finger as she hoped to assert herself, "Why would I have a phone on me?! And second--!" And then the guy charged headlong at the wall, and Esprit cringed and covered herself from the debris as the horrid crash filled the air. When she looked up, he was standing in the vault, and bracing for whatever came through the door. Ooooooh crap, nope she wasn't going to be in there. "Merde!" she swore violently and sprinted for the front of the building.
This idiot was going to get them both killed--but she couldn't do anything from that position. She had no power sources here! Even if she could weather automatic weapons' fire, she couldn't do it without the energy to sustain her protection! And there was nothing in the alleyway. However, his reckless idiocy HAD provided her with a fresh opportunity: it no doubt would have brought their attention away from the front... or more specifically the gaping hole in the bank filled by the limo. And the nice thing about being able to go to the front: there were trees on the street. When she got out there, she could clearly see people down the streets both directions on their phones, obviously calling the police... at least Doctor Dementia in there would get his wish. Taking a deep, bracing breath to calm her nerves, she pointed her knife at every tree nearby and made a pulling motion on them. She felt downright awful for taking from the saplings, they looked downright sickly to begin with... but these humans needed help, and she could help plant new ones... human lives weren't so easily replaceable. From every tree she faced, a stream of flickering green lights flowed into the blade, making it spark vibrantly, her suit's markings and her eyes glowing bright with energy. Her skin tingled and her heart pounded angrily in her chest, the world seemed infinitely more vivid, the blues more blue, the reds more red. Meanwhile, the trees she siphoned from began to turn brown on the leaves and grey at the bark. Okay... now she was ready. Physically.
Getting a running start and pulling out her 'sword', she ran into the bank past the limo, and the moment she entered, to the mixture of confusion and alarm from a few of the robbers, she gestured with her dagger and sent a slender wave of bright green energy in a waist-level arc out in front of her, moving quickly, but capable of being dodged if anyone was paying attention. Anyone who got hit by it would get punted pretty hard, but unless they hit their head it wouldn't be enough for a knock-out... they would be VERY sore in a band across the affected area however. Not even bothering to watch whether it hit, she brought up a ward of soft, translucent green energy which rippled like the air around a fire, and sprinted for the cover of the front desk. The moment she dove over, she dismissed her ward briefly, moving quickly while crouched over before bringing it back up and literally launching herself, using a bit of energy to telekinetically throw herself from behind the counter towards one of the robbers (who had either gotten up from the previous assault or had dodged it), smacking her square in the face with her practice sword before landing with a raspy skid on the carpet. Before she had even stopped, she sent a bolt of force energy at one of the other robbers who was either getting up or had already been standing, sending a bolt screeching towards her, intending to send her rocketing into the wall.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2015 15:17:31 GMT -5
“Why would you have a phone on ya?”, yelled Old Man Trouble over the sound of tumbling mortar and smashing brick. After this girl had not only failed to defer to experience but not even tried to get the latte, he was feeling far less socially charitable. “I dunno, cos it's not nineteen motherfuckin' eighty? Or maybe you need a phone to call the passive-aggressive Police? To hand yourself in for crimes against sarkiness with intent to be a….a bitch? Naw, that sucked. Wait. Gimme a minute. I can do better.”
But Old Man Trouble never got the chance to do a better joke. Jade jets of energy streamed from nearby saplings planted by the city to brighten up downtown Detroit. Only now they were looking distinctly grey and listless, their lush brown brances rusty and tumbling exhausted to the floor. The French girl however, looked in the pink of health. If the pink of health made your eyes bulge like supermeth and made your chest up and down like sailors on shoreleave.
"The fuck? Your super power is the ability to get high on trees? That's got to be the least practical power I ever heard, and I once worked with a caped due who could change the colour of his..."
Oh right. The random goons. Random being the operative word.
"Bankrobber chicks?" mused OMT. That's new. And kinda naughty honestly."
His attention turned to the chick in the mask whose black and white business outfit screamed "look at me, I'm the evil sidekick."
"Well you're nowhere near as attractive as you could have been." Old Man Trouble told the chick who broke into the vault. "But still, when all this is over, with an open mind..."
Police sirens wailed in the distance.
"Fuck me"
Old Man Trouble looked around and did the math. Bad guys. Money on the floor. Lots of guns. Easily collapsable roof. Well this didn't take a genius.
"DUCK!" He screamed at the Frenchie. And with a single blow of his wrinkly arm, our courageous hero took out the supporting beam and let the vault roof come crashing down on all that lovely, lovely money, burying the cash in a thich rubble tomb.
But were the dastardly villains trapped along with it?
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Post by Court Baron Butters on Jul 14, 2015 22:26:25 GMT -5
Not but a few moments after Mundini fixed the parties first problem a second problem popped up 'Boss, it seems we have some intruder awaiting us inside the vault!' The shriek coming from his faithful assistant back at the vault. Mundini had prepared back up plans, dozens of them in fact, but he was in no way shape or form prepared for an assault from - inside the vault -
"What?! That isn't possible!" he panicked, lifting his hand to his face and beginning to bite at his fingernails, he turned back around to face several of his minions in the front room pointing guns at the heads of bankers and checking their nails. "Ladies get to the back room, and help rose!"
One of the goons rather than follow orders sprinted towards Mundini waving a slim piece of paper back and forth in the air, 'got somethin' for ya mista!" she yelled in a thick New York accent A-typical for the region. She sprung delicately over the front desk, and stuck the piece of paper into the latex gloved hands of Mundini. 'It's the code for the backdoor Mista! One of the kooks up stairs gave it to me afta I beamed his skull wit the back of my heel' The dancer cackled loudly after she spoke, and ran back into the vault room.
"Excellent" he whispered to himself as he put the trinket into a pocket inside of his jacket. Though just as he turned around to help face the threat within the vault he was struck by a volley of energy blasts, he quickly darted to the room separating the vault form the main building and watched as two of the three dancers were knocked on their feet by a beam ethereal beam, the other of which saw the assailant stumble into the room, but she was quickly dispatched by a sword embracing the curves of her cheek bones.
And just as one of the performers had recuperated from the initial bolt of energy she was once again slammed against the wall by yet another jolt of energy. Her body rag-dolled after hitting the wall, slumping to the floor knocking down one of the potted plants within the bank, spilling dirt everywhere.
Mundini busted out of cover now carrying a small sub machine gun he snatched from one of the downed dancers in the other room. He ducked under the front desk, but quickly popped up and fired a volley of bullets at the women now standing in the main room. After his first round of bullets he dodged back down under the desk holding his gun in one hand, 'wait a second...' He thought to himself. '...I recognize those hips from somewhere...' he scratched the few stray hairs he missed from shaving under his chin, 'Where, oh where have I seen this women before!' He sat their puzzled waiting for the mysterious woman to make her next move.
[OOC: Feel free to NPC the Dancers I sent near your room, stel]
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Post by Stelpher on Jul 16, 2015 3:18:40 GMT -5
Iris couldn't see much through the cloud of dust. There was something, a shadow, a shape. A lone figure standing in the vault.
How he had entered the vault she didn't have a clue, there was no way he could get in par smashing through the back wall, and even in a vault this possible, that shouldn't be possible. Or at least, that's what she thought up until the point she saw the human-shaped whole in the back wall.
And then the dust cleared.
Honestly, she was a little disappointed to find an old man in a superhero costume standing in the center of the vault. There were many ways she had imagined everything could go wrong, but she had to give the man credit - this was not one of them. She had suspected some sort of person with abilities such as hers, but an old man? Definitely not.
Seconds later, she was joined by three of the dancers Mundini had sent over to give her a hand.
Iris raised her Beretta directly at the old mans forehead, and the dancers raised their various sub-machine guns in response, all pointed towards the man. And then, to their surprise, he spoke.
"Well you're nowhere near as attractive as you could have been." The man sad, seeming to address Iris. "But still, when all this is over, with an open mind..."
She could hear sirens in the distance. Most definitely the police.
"Fuck me."
In her head, Iris had to do a double take on that.
'Was that a curse or a request?'
However she didn't let her thoughts affect her interactions. She squeezed the trigger, and soon after her pistol barked, the roaring of the SMG's followed. Despite at least thirty bullets hitting the old geezer in mostly the torso, he did not drop. He didn't even seem to flinch. He just stood. Now it wasn't as much of a surprise how he bust through the wall.
Some of the dancers still seemed intent on shooting the man to death, but Iris simply returned her weapon to her side, raising her hand to impale the man with one of her floating lances of iron, but her thought was interrupted by the mans sudden shout.
"DUCK!"
Iris didn't know what he was going to do, but instincts told her getting out would be the best course of action. And so, she turned on her feet, diving out of the room and reshaping her lances into a thick wall behind her.
A second later the vault collapsed, falling rubble crushing the two dancers who hadn't reacted fast enough to escape. Her shield had protected her from any flying pieces of debris, but the third dancer was not so lucky. She was alive, but she was unconscious and bleeding from where some concrete had concussed her, plus her leg had been crushed underneath a much large piece.
The sound of the sirens was rapidly growing louder, and they couldn't risk anyone being captured by the police. With this in mind, she lifted her iron wall above the woman's head, and released her grip on it.
There was no time to waste, and so with the wall forming lances once more, she took cover in the door frame leading into the lobby, her eyes landing on her boss taking cover behind a desk. She didn't risk giving away her position just yet, but she was ready to jump out and shield Mundini if need be.
[OOC: If you don't want her to kill the dancer for plot reasons, that's fine. I can edit it out, but otherwise yes, she is a heartless bitch.]
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Post by aardvarklord on Jul 16, 2015 13:56:14 GMT -5
Even as she went into the fight in the front room Esprit could feel her temper flaring as that imbecilic old man's voice from the back as he started mocking her powers, jabbering on about how it was utterly impractical. She already felt awful for killing the poor trees, she didn't need to be bashed for it! However, there were more important things on her plate, and she opted to ignore the Old Man Aliéné for the time being while she focused on taking down the robbers, AND NOT DYING. Still, it was gratifying to see that she had pretty quickly dispatched two of the dancers in her room, the third one outright sprinting for the cover of the auxilliary room, something which Esprit tried to stop with another energy bolt, but the woman was quick to dive and the heroine herself soon found a duo of far more serious issues. The police were coming, and unlike the rest of the people here, she was thankful for it. Even if they weren't eager to see her, any back-up would be much appreciated right now. Yet even that took back seat.
After what sounded like a hail of gunfire that left her ears ringing, she picked out the old man shouting "DUCK!" seemingly out of the blue.
She didn't bother questioning the order, she just did so in her position which was towards the back of the front room, barely in view of the vault. She brought her ward up instinctively, expecting a hail of gunfire to be ripping through the air around her. And while that did happen, sharp emerald and golden sparks lancing off the translucent green field and rapidly draining her admittedly substantial (for the time) energy levels, that wasn't what he was talking about. No, what he was talking about was the far-off (for her) roof of the vault collapsing. "Dieu Tout-Puissant!" she exclaimed under her breath at the sight. She was in the lobby, so she didn't need to worry... hopefully... at least not immediately, but she could only watch out of the corner of her eye in mixed horror and astonishment as the roof collapsed on the old man--who remained uninjured apparently--and the dancers... who weren't so lucky. There was another woman in a suit, but she was far quicker than that... and... oh crap she seemed to be a super of some description... involving metal. Nope, if the old man could survive getting shot that much AND a building falling on his wrinkly old ass, then he could take down Magneta over there.
All of these thoughts happened quickly, and so she was preparing to deal with the bastard who had shot at her, looking back over at the desk, thinking that she could deal with the guy if all he could do was shoot at her... though the fact they had a super had her slightly concerned. And speaking of which... as she looked over to check the situation she saw the woman raising her wall of iron, and at first she thought it was a defensive action... but then she saw the unconscious dancer in the rubble. "MERDE!" she swore again and without any conscious thought she lashed out with her blade again and a much brighter, sparking ball of energy lanced out across the vast gulf between the two rooms, completely missing the super and instead aiming for the dancer. She had to steer this one manually, and it slipped under the wall at the last second, and for a moment she thought she'd failed, but then the wall seemed to bounce off of her and back to its other side... albeit not with any speed that would disrupt the woman beyond mildly surprising her if she had any reflexes whatsoever. In fact, she was already moving by that point.
By now her suit's and eyes' lights were dimming a bit, even flickering, and the usual tell-tale tingling was beginning to fade. Dammit, that was reckless of her. Shaking off that thought, her mind returned to the man behind the desk... and she wasn't certain how many bullets he had, but she didn't want to find out the hard way. Sprinting up and leaping over the desk yet again, this time from the back-wall side in relation to her target, she swept Panthalassus in an arc and a bar of energy running down the otherwise empty desk space towards her target. Her lights flickered and died after the shot, though depending on whether the shot hit she either charged him with the intent being to tackle him and put the dagger to his throat, or if it missed she bunkered down and started sapping from the petri dishes she hid on her, which would have resulted in a strange sight like her suit itself was leaking the emerald life force. Either way though, there was one thing she noticed as she swept her blade and her eyes locked on her target's face... or mask. It was a mask she had seen, many... many times before, and in that split moment between the realization and her last arc firing her eyes widened with horror and she whispered a baffled, "Mundini?!"
Meanwhile, in the background, the one member of the crew that Esprit had knocked back but not out had thrown her weapon down and was sprinting for the door like the devil himself was biting at her ankles, shouting something about "I'M NOT GETTING PAID ENOUGH TO DIE!"
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