The Heist - (On Hold)

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The Heist - (On Hold)

Postby Chemical Cutthroat on Thu Aug 04, 2011 8:11 pm

Most stories start at the beginning... this one less so, the beginnings of each of the players aren't as important as the fact that they had all coalesced into this one room. As interesting as things have been before, this is a changing point for some... an angry fist in the air against a heavy handed oppressor... or maybe just a way to get by. For some, having a purpose is enough motivation...

The door clicked shut, and the two heavy deadbolts slammed into place as the last of the crew walked into the room. It was certainly an interesting mix, a cast of all shades, shapes and colors... seven strangers that would have to trust each other rather quickly to pull this off.

Of course, the host was helping that along with a little social lubrication. A few bottles of fermentae of various flavors and potency sat on tables and counters, along with glasses and some snacks. If not for the nervous atmosphere, it'd be a nice little party.

The room itself was rather large, despite the cramped appearance of the building from the outside. Wrench Werks was closed for the evening, but all the jewelry still sat pristine in the glass display cases in the back of the store, and all the gadgets and equipment for sale in the front sat under the warm lights, tempting customers through the windows.

Not tonight though, the blinds were drawn across the barred windows, and some comfy chairs had been pulled down from the upstairs apartment. The crew was scattered about, getting as comfortable as they could as they sized each other up and eyed the fermentae with either distrust, curiosity, or reluctant want.

Well... their host had no qualms about the drink. A bottle engraved with a mint leaf sat next to him on the counter where he sat, grinning and watching the rest of the room as he leaned over, his elbows on his knees and a glass of the minty fermentae swirling in his hand. He was probably mid to late twenties, but it was always hard to tell... wolfish in appearance, with deep charcoal fur and blue accents zig-zagging through his coat. Grease-spotted khaki cargo pants hung down to his reinforced boots, and a bright red t-shirt emblazoned with a single black six-pointed cog covered his wiry frame. His dark brown eyes swept the room one last time, “So this looks like it then!”

The charcoal canine hopped down from the counter, taking a long sip of his drink as his wolfish smile made it's way around, “Well! Welcome to my shop, this gets to be out little base of operations for the next few days. Anything you need, gadget or otherwise, I should be able to make or get for you. My name is Alric, Alric Forge, and I get to be your handler.” His smile continued as he leaned against the his shop's counter, “For those of you new to this, it's pretty simple. I'm the go-to guy, the middle-man between you, henceforth known as 'The Help', and our employer, who we'll just call Mr. Johnson. Whatever your motivations are... I don't need to know. You were pointed my direction one way or another, and believe me, I'm here to help you as much as you're here to help me.”

Alric took a long sip of his minty drink again, “So we have a couple things to go over here...”, he waved his free hand in the air absentmindedly as he walked to the other side of the counter, leaning down to pull up a data-scroll that he hung on the wall, “For starters... what it is exactly we'll be doing. After that, we'll see what everybody can do and start getting a plan together... oh! Feel free to cut in if ya' got a question, and help yourself to the drinks, the mint stuff is my own little brew... and the Scinter's Mark on the table is like liquid caramel... wicked stuff.”

With a click and a hum the data-scroll unfurled, and the screen hummed oh-so-quietly to life, “Right... this is what we are looking for.” The image on the screen was... another data-scroll, this one capped of some odd metal with bright red rings on the end, “Yeah... not much to go by. But I've been assured that this is very much one-of-a-kind. So... there, my friends, is your target...”

A button was pressed, and the screen changed to a picture that might as well have been on a postcard from the Norvondire district, an ancient castle sitting on top of a hill, surrounded by a few newer buildings and patches of well manicured forest, “And this is where it is!”

Tense silence... and Alric took a swig of his drink, “Yeah... this didn't exactly thrill me either.”

The charcoal wolf went to take another sip of his drink, noticed it was empty, and promptly refilled it, then leaned on the counter top as he eyed the group, “I'm gonna go ahead and stop there for now... you all now, sort of, know me... so let's take a look at the rest of you.”

A smaller data-scroll, more like a PDA than anything else was sitting on the counter, and Alric idly tapped on it with one claw, looking up to nod at each of the individuals as he read off whatever title it was they were going by, “So! We have Seer... The Mute... Pas-” He took a second to look around before his gaze settled on the diminutive chap sitting ON one of his display cases right at eye level... right... “Ah... Paska... Atlas... Creeper?” The room turned to look at the bundle of hoodie sitting on one of the chairs, “Mmhmm... aaand Avalanche.” The last one made Alric quirk a brow, “Could've sworn I've seen you before... local maybe?” He paused thoughtfully, “Ah... doesn't matter too much...”

“So we'll get back to the 'how' of all this shortly... we have all night after all. If it's flying a little fast and heavy for some of you, now's the time to pick up, smile politely, and head out the door. No questions asked, drinks are on me, have a good night.” He reached under the table, and sat a wicked looking, rather illegal springer-pistol on the counter next to his drink, “But whatever happens in this room stays with the people here. I think we can be clear on that.” The smile had a dangerous little edge to it, “So with that being said...”

...and in that not-so-obvious way, the host turned the floor over to questions and introductions... they wouldn't be able to work as a team without getting to know each other a bit first.

Ah... a crash course in trust. This could be a long night.



((This is the... 'getting to know you'... section. Normally I'd go on with the whole brief to get it out of the way, but I want to break it up to allow people to interject and react and all that. I'll be on high alert for the next couple days so I can try and respond quickly and keep things moving, and if anyone wants to banter back and forth in real time feel free to send me a request to line up a time in a chat somewhere. Let the games begin!))
Last edited by Chemical Cutthroat on Tue Jan 10, 2012 10:50 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Heist

Postby Sorrel on Thu Aug 04, 2011 11:12 pm

The room was well-stocked with valuable shinies, but also thoroughly secured, so no point in getting any ideas -- much as the craftsmanship of the jewelry riled her magpie-like lust for silver. There was also the fact that the only way out was the single heavily bolted door. Shala promptly dismissed the notion of nicking a souvenir. Besides, this host fellow was far too civil to warrant that kind of treatment by an invited guest.

She had passed through his shop a couple of times in the past week, casually observing his behavior; he seemed like a nice guy, particularly if the neighbors' loose tongues were anything to go by. Personable, honorable, something of an altruist, generally a decent character with a bit of a thing for some nice fermentae... as evidenced by his excellent choice in refreshment. She helped herself to some of the "liquid caramel" (an apt description) and crossed her legs at the ankles as Mister Forge began his briefing.

Their target and its location were nondescript, to be sure, but she wasn't about to rule this out as a chump job. The signing bonus had been far too hefty for something simple. And as she surveyed her fellow guests, the wide range of obvious talents and experience spoke of far more complex expectations. Either someone thought this was going to be trickier than a simple swipe-and-run, or someone was desperate enough for success that they were willing to go for serious overkill. She could believe there was something important at stake here -- those Norvondire constructions were literal fortresses, often far tougher to crack than one would think; and any plain old datascroll could contain all kinds of dangerous illicit information.

Nothing "thrilling," per se, but nothing worth dismissing yet either.

He ran through the roll call, throwing out a list of codenames and casting a pointed glance at those to whom they applied. She unconsciously smoothed the folds of her leggings as such a glance came her way. Some of the names were certainly unique, but most of them seemed obvious when she looked at the people they labeled. Most of them.

Mr. Forge's words trailed off into expectant silence. The time for ice-breaking had begun.

She took a swig far deeper than she looked able to handle, then cleared her throat and flashed a cordial grin at her fellows -- it was hard to tell how much of it they could see. She knew full well that most of her face was shrouded in hood-shadow. "Guess I'll go first." The little woman's tail swished languidly as she scooted nearer the edge of her chair, leaning forward, hands clasped around the bottle and elbows resting on knees.

"Name's Shala. Creeper, while we're on the job. I usually fly solo but I can't complain about having a little company. For team-gigs, I usually specialize in security disablement, unless there's a better tech man with us." Her eyes flicked to the skinny bird with the tricked-out gear. That job was probably taken. "In those cases, I'm the recon man. I case the vaults and track personnel movements. I'm good at being the fly on the wall, and even better at getting away if things get intense." She took another swig and patted her lips dry with a gloved wrist. "Doesn't usually come to that, so no worries. And aside from that I try to be as aggreeable as possible, so don't be strangers, alright? That's it for my two cents."
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Re: The Heist

Postby SuperVaderMan on Fri Aug 05, 2011 1:00 am

'Ooh, I can stand up. That's nice,' thought Bixtin as he straightened up after having had to bend over considerably to maneuver his 8 feet of height through the entrance.

Bix sort-of sidled out of the doorway and took a look around, and overall it was a fairly nice place. Nothing like the dirty, dimly lit, cigarette smoke-hazed, grumpy thug-filled backroom billiards area straight out of a cops & robbers movie he was expecting. But if the place looked like that it'd be too obvious, he supposed. Not that he would know. Maybe the place was more obvious because it's a place you wouldn't suspect? Maybe that stereotypical kind of setting wouldn't be as suspected BECAUSE it's too obvious? Well, that stereotypical setting had to come from SOMEWHERE didn't it? But if that were the case, cops would be all over those places all the time and those places wouldn't exist anymore, thus eliminating the stereotype because cops expect it? Wait, would the police expect it if it wasn't stereotypical, or if it IS stereotypical? Or maybe-

Then their host's greeting broke Bix's train of thought and he suddenly found himself in a more crowded room full of comparatively short people and some people who were actually short, those being extremely short, comparatively.

Throughout Mr. Forge's introduction speech to the gathered group of misfits, Bix busied himself trying to look less awkward. At first he tried leaning against the wall, arms crossed to look cool; he scrapped that idea since he had very little chest to cross his several feet of limbs across. He awkwardly sat down in the low chairs; he ditched that plan since his knees almost went up past his head. He tried crossing his legs to remedy this; he thought maybe it'd look kind-of gross to the others since this made his feet swing all the way back behind his chair. He started to untangle his legs so he could-

The beep of Mr. Forge's datascroll caught him mid-disentanglement/mid-making-a-nuisance-of-himself to show off their target and the place where it was being held. Again, not really what Bix was expecting, he was thinking more along the lines of some kind of museum-y kind of place where there'd be the glass displays guarded by a hundred laser tripwires that the team would have to stealth past or something like that.

Then it was time for introductions. Luckily Bix didn't have to go first. He doubted very much he'd impress anyone with his complete lack of criminal ability and wanted very much to follow someone who knew what they were doing so he could introduce himself and be forgotten under someone else's more impressive resume.

For the former he was not disappointed. It was one of the very tiny ones who spoke first, the one he first mistook for a pile of coats. A confident pile of coats that said something about previous jobs she's done, solo and with a team. That's good, maybe she could pick up some of his slack. Or maybe not, she seemed a bit intolerant of that kind-of thing. But then again, he supposed criminals generally weren't known for their patience. Well he was about to be a criminal too, and he wasn't impatient. And if he wasn't that way then it stands to reason others wouldn't be. Unless it just comes with experience, and veterans -- just... weren't....

It was quiet again.

Bix abruptly tried to stand up, his legs were tangled, but eventually stood up after a few awkward seconds of him bumbling to his feet.

"Uh, hi." he said lamely. "I'm Bix -- uh, Bixtin, Bixtin Nixin and I uhm... this is, uh, my first job."

He stood there for a couple seconds before realizing he had nothing interesting to say about himself. So he cleared his throat and stiffly sat back down.
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Re: The Heist

Postby Sorrel on Fri Aug 05, 2011 1:18 am

Shala blinked as the hundred-foot stickman stammered his introduction. Poor thing looked terribly nervous -- at least he had the sense to know he was probably in over his head. But inexperience was not an obstacle she was looking forward to dealing with.

Still... newbies could always be used for something. This guy was so tall and lanky she wasn't quite sure what to do with him; his sheer height might prevent him from cramming himself into tiny places, and he was so damn skinny she doubted he'd be well suited for combat. But then again that same skinniness might allow him to crawl into spaces she herself couldn't fit in. One could never be sure.

She found herself chuckling at his awkwardness. "Raw rookie, huh? Not a problem. We'll find something you can do to help." Swishing the fermentae around in its bottle, she angled her head and appraised some unseen quality in him, half-shrouded face smiling but unreadable. "Any fancy job skills we might apply here? You'd be surprised what kind of tricks come in handy." She raised an eyebrow. "And... maybe it's silly of me to ask, but I don't suppose you actually know what your power is? Most folks don't these days, but you never can tell."
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Re: The Heist

Postby MandyHabato on Fri Aug 05, 2011 1:40 am

Yuri sat down as others entered the room, varied incredibly. She crossed her legs and threw her right arm over the back of the chair. She had a blue tank top that had a cartoon of the Starfall mountains on it; accompanied with black cargo pants. Her green eyes glowed slightly, drawing attention to the black crescent moon on her forehead,
She nodded to herself as the man went over the information, smiling widely as she was called and he noticed, indeed, that she was a local.
The first to introduced herself was not new to this, thankfully. As the tall dragonfly dreamkeeper stood up, Yuri couldn't help with a smile. It quickly faded as Bixen said it was his first job.
She was silent as the first, Shala, commented on Bixen's freshness to crime, and her questioning.
"New to crime, a good job does not make." She thought, standing. "Well, sorry to interrupt, but lets finish these fun introductions! I'm Yuri, or, for this, Avalanche. I am a pretty good fighter, quick and quiet, but I could do spy work. That's apparently taken though." She glanced at Shala. "And don't make faces, I can be covert when I want to be."
She put her hands on her hips as some made faces when she said this, and looked at her bright snowy white fur.
"And this isn't my first job. I've been doing this quite a while, I know my power," She once again glances at Shala. "and I am indeed a local. I bet this will be tons of fun!" There was no sarcasm in her voice as she sat down, returning to her previous position.
"On to the next performer!" Nothing could dampen her mood. It helped form trust. And it was the only thing keeping her from going completely thug.
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Re: The Heist

Postby SuperVaderMan on Fri Aug 05, 2011 1:47 am

'Well that was rude,' Bix thought, about to answer the little woman kind enough to minimize his crappy introduction - thank the gods she did offer.

"Well anyways, as I was about to say I, uhm... have a degree in laser technology," shaking his head a bit and shrugging, not at all sure how that could possibly be of help. Just because he knows what a laser is doesn't mean he can do anything about them.

"And I do know what my power is, I can uh... see THROUGH things, ANYTHING. Not that I can use it very well, mind you, I can only see past a couple of feet for a short bit. What with the powers laws I couldn't exactly, ya'know, PRACTICE. I only even know what my power is because, as a kid I used to..."

Suddenly realizing how inappropriate this will sound given who he's talking to he kind-of hesitates before finishing with, "-I used to... peek into the women's locker rooms...."
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Re: The Heist

Postby Lord of the Forest on Fri Aug 05, 2011 2:46 am

All the time he was there Paska had worn a deep seated frown. From the moment Paska walked in he scowled once he saw the bottles of fermentae oddly enough. He was by no means a drinker of any sorts. So it was to his disgrace when a few of the guests had helped themselves to a glass or two, including their grease stained host.

He had to remind himself that these were criminals he was dealing with. Worse, they were all here to viciously attack the Andurunan government. He corrected himself. They were here to inconvenience the Andurunan government. He still let those words from the contact who led him here linger in his mind. The lump in his throat grew, but he refused to show any amount of discomfort. He strode past the table, turning his nose up at the booze, until he caught sight of a fruit bowl among the various snacks and other treats that had been set out. He leapt up and stashed one between his jaws, took his seat at the nearby stool, and desperately trying to frown despite the fruit lodged in his maw. He finally began to calm down now that he was eye level with at least a few of these punks; scratch that, chest level.

Alric ran down the group until Paska's name eventually came up. The wolf stumbled, looking down at Paska, nestled neatly on the stool. The small dreamkeeper's eyes narrowed slightly, recalling his password for the night and the indignant tone Paska used to demonstrate his displeasure, "I'm the Runt."

The host hesitated, "Ah... Paska...," Paska nodded in reply, biting down on the fruit and carefully maneuvering the juice down his throat. He was by far the smallest, but he had to admit that he was by no means the weirdest among the group.

He listened to idly to the others as he slowly took delicate bites, shifting his green eyes back and forth between speakers. He didn't have much to say yet, seeing as the others were doing fine by themselves. One he truly believed had experience in this sort of thing, while the other was a horridly awkward wreck, and the third could have honestly been a liar.

Here the frown subsided. It raised a fraction to the point where a blank look on his face along with an assault of unbridled, unwanted thoughts began to creep (quite literally) into his brain. The desperate need to interrupt overwhelmed him.

"I can fly," he shouted in a loud, lets-change-the-subject tone which seemed to work. However, he suddenly realized he didn't have any words other than that. He was sure that he thought he heard a few sighs of relief, but now that he had all the silence of the room to himself he couldn't say for sure that there was any reaction whatsoever.

He licked the fruit, reaching for something to say; something to impress them. Well, that's a problem. Look at what he's dealing with; an expert and a man who can see through things. "Flying is pretty awesome I guess," Paska thought quietly to himself, "But what the heck am I doing here? Seriously, we're talking about stealing some vital datascroll or some junk. There was Scinter's Mark over there on the table. That alone is enough to get us arrested." What could he say to make a lasting impression?

Honesty has it's virtues, of course.

"Comrades, you are now equipped with a high-minded, routine Andurunan citizen who can fly! On a disc thing!" He pumped his fist into the air, letting the fruit drop into his lap, his expression never changing. "And it is likely that if we do survive this foray we'll all be labelled as terrorists by the news." He rubbed his dripping chin thoughtfully, considering the notion. Finally he looked down at his mangled fruit and mumbled, "Yeah, I guess I'm okay with that. And I dare to think I'm actually going to survive this little heist we've got going on. My list of why-the-hell-I-should-not-to-do-this-crap appears to be getting smaller and smaller."

Losing all uneasiness with the situation, Paska straightened his back and shrugged, kneading the skin of the fruit between his feet. "Aww, I don't care, lets get introductions taken care of now that no one is going to jump the ship." He raised a paw and waved, raising a wiry grin. "I'm Paska. I've never picked a pocket, stabbed someone for lucre, or broken into Tinsel's dressing room. And I can fly. That's important, right?" Paska said with raised ears and a twitch of his tail.
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Re: The Heist

Postby Sorrel on Fri Aug 05, 2011 3:02 am

It took Shala a moment to figure out what just happened. And when she did, she could barely keep herself from laughing. The little naked rookie had a sense of humor. She approved.

"Of course it's important." She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "You kidding? Someone your size with that kind of talent could be valuable. Just like someone who can count how many guards are behind the next door." She nodded to Bix. "And I'm sure madame Nanaja is relieved that her valuables have not been threatened. I don't think any of us need to worry about negative publicity, though -- if we do this right, no one will ever realize what's happened."

The woman's thoughts flicked to the overexcited teenager whose confidence in her abilities seemed disproportionate to the amount of experience her youth allotted. Unimpressed as she was with the "fun and games" attitude, the girl did have a point; introductions were the purpose of this meeting, and it would be nice to get it over with. But on the other hand, as Forge had said, they did have all night...

"So, this is turning out to be quite the colorful crew. Who else have we got?"
Last edited by Sorrel on Fri Aug 05, 2011 3:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Heist

Postby SuperVaderMan on Fri Aug 05, 2011 3:14 am

'...What's the big deal about being about to fly?' Bix thought to himself, unconsciously flexing his pairs of translucent wings as he looked down on the Runt - literally given their height difference, figuratively too considering how the gross little midget dribbled juice all over himself and played with his pear using his feet like some kind of mentally deficient person, which may be the case given his outburst.

...Wow that was a nasty thought. Bix makes a note to not be so judgmental in the future.
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Re: The Heist

Postby Twilight on Fri Aug 05, 2011 6:08 am

"You have me," said the 'skinny bird' on the other side of the table. Her bright, glowing goggles blocked her eyes and it was impossible to tell which direction she was looking. Based on her head's general direction, she might as well not have been looking at the group at all.

"As my codename suggests, I represent Atlas. It is a cyber-crime group that specializes in - among other things - hornswoggling careless internet* users out of their credit data. As we speak, my absence may be losing my people more bank than this... pilferage may yield." A wry grin tugged the corners of an intimidatingly sharp beak. She gave a ghost of a chuckle. "And yet. . there's nothing quite like the exhilarating thrill, the precariousness, of a romantic fellowship of foreigners chasing down a prize in indefectible synchronicity."

The goggles' inner light faded, but it was still nearly impossible to see her eyes. Slowly, she spun the chair around to face the group properly, steepling her fingers with a decidedly sinister vampire-smile. "I'm looking forward to operating within this coterie."

* Dreamkeepers DOES have "the internet" but it hasn't been named yet, so I just defaulted to calling it that.
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