2014.02.18 - Kings and Pins

It was far too late at night for a withdrawl, but that doesn't stop four black vans from driving down the lamplit streets and pulling into the alleys boardering the bank. Dressed in all manner of clumsy attire, armed thugs start to pile out of the doors, the back, crowding into the alleyway.
"Okay... remember the boss' plan." one slurrs out, "Team one stays lookout, team two gets us in then pulls watch duty inside while three and four make for the vault. Those codes we's got better work.. Lets get to it!"
Burly looking brutes, human but perhaps only just, stand one each on either side of the alleyway looking out. Though unarmed, they give... dissuading glares to anyone who walks near. Deeper in, hidden by the vans, were a good number of punks with submachine guns. The rest were crowding around the rear service door, while one, smaller and weedier than the rest, rooted through a dufflebag of gear.
Everyone was vigilent and on the lookout, keeping their eyes peeled on rooftops, streets, any person that comes into sight is met with suspicion. This is far more organized than your usual criminal fodder... something was up here. And unfortunately, the bright moon overhead makes stealth a tricky job indeed even in the dead of night.
There are some who are not completely phased by the moonlit night.
In the darkness, two feline eyes look down upon the scene and narrow thoughtfully.
~That's unusual, the bank van usually is one of those bulletproof numbers. Something's not right here.~
~No spit, Sherlock.~
The Cheshire cat watches very carefully from his rooftop ledge, shielded by the shadow cast by the nearby billboard.
"Spider," he says into his communicator, "Something odd's going on around here."
There...really is no reason for Soleil to be here. Its like fate always has him in the wrong place at the wrong time but after having a weird day, he can be found walking along, without his cart for the time being, instead his golden backpack worn on one shoulder and a larger duffel bag strapped to his back as he walks along, head bowed as he idly working on a rather large slurpee, slurping as he carries a large magnifying glass and walks along, watching his feet. He wears a pair of dark baggy jeans, a pink and dark green plaid flannel shirt tied around his waist and an oversized men's suit black suit jacket over a dark green hoodie, a white bandana holding his hair out of his face and a dark green knit cap pulled down low as he sluuuurps his drink and continues walking, pausing to kneel down and examine something on the ground not far from where the bank is, squinting and picking up a penny.
Stealth? Easy as pie,e ven in bright moonlight for some people. Like the Iron Spider. He has a suit that lets him be invisible, and a crime fighting partner that could do it even if his suit couldn't. Really he was just on patrol for the evening looking for the normal random street violence of Gotham, not expecting a large and well organized bank robbery. That, well that jsut means it is his lucky night.
"I ead you Vorp, that is deffenetly a robbery in progress. Why don't we swing over and say hello. You go for the front and I'll take the back?" Iron Spider speaks over the coms before moving to give himself a good running start and taking off to jump to the building being robbed.
The weedy one pulls out what looks like a gun with strange metal pokers on the end. Sticking this into the lock and pulling the trigger, a soft whirring sound ends in a 'CLICK', and the door swings open. In file 3 teams of thugs, out of sight.
One of the enforcers standing at street level spots someone approaching! Sol in this case. Arms crossed and intimidating scowl in place, the bruiser seems to hope that his scowl is sufficient to shake the kid off perhaps.
"Oi!" he calls, in what some might call a passable imitation of a gorilla "Get lost kid! The big boyz is playin' 'ere t'night!"
From behind, another pair of thugs amongst the 8 or so still left in the alley perks and peers over the thugs shoulders, but he's waved away. He's not needed... yet...
"Roger Wilco..." the cat whispers, and then slowly begins to advance... until he hears something. Cat ears are very sensitive. "Hold on, something's going on. Proceed going through the back, I may be a while." Turning fully invisible, the cat crawls across the other side of the building until he peeks over the alleyway and sees the thugs.
Well... wasn't that something? And that kid he had rescued the other day was there.
~Let's try for a little distraction~
Engaging his powers of illusion, the cat targets the alleyway. Suddenly, there is a very strange change in the air, as the smell of cherry blossoms and other delightful flora invades the alleyway. Blades of grass replace the decayed concrete and the walls become great fields of waving trees. And in the distance, approaching the remaining thugs in the alleyway, a delightful couple approaches. He in white slacks and a red-and-white striped shirt with a straw hat sitting at a jaunty angle on his head and she, a vision of absolute loveliness, clad in muslin and white, with a broad-rimmed hat and red flowers. A frilly white parasol completes the ensemble. The couple saunter towards the thugs, grinning and singing rather pleasantly...
~Oh, It's a jolly holiday with Mary...~
Meanwhile, the Cheshire Cat positions himself to be above the goon trying to intimidate Soleil.
The young Frenchman (Soleil) keeps lips wrapped around his straw as he arches an eyebrow, eyes lowered and looks from the brute to the bank and then back to the brute and then back to the bank and then back to the brute. He may not be a criminal, but he's been around long enough to know muscle like that doesn't normally just stand around, so he just plays dumb, looking up and biting his bottom lip. He looks apologetic, starting to walk towards the bank with a wave, frowning a bit. "Je ne parle pas anglais..." He bites his bottom lip. "Je ne comprends pas." He looks around as if lost. "Vous parlez francais?" Turning in a circle and throwing his hands up, still gripping his icee. He /hears/ the singing though and blinks, lowering his eyes before he wiggles a bit, beat up sneakers may not be tap shoes but he does a bit of complicated foot work, humming and then taking another sip from his icee, laughing merrily. Hey, it takes talent to play that stupid.
This is the point in the robbery where, if this were a horror movie, things ould as they go started to go wrong. Invisible and hanging to the building Iron Spider makes his way to the very back and into the building. He quickly moves to catchup with the thugs that entered and takes a second to pick out a nice large quiet type of a goon that no one is paying much attention too. Someone at the back where if he works fast he can disapear before anyone knows what is going on. Setting up just the right moment, and the perfect shot with his web shooters he aims and fires one for the mouth to prevent shouting and once for the gun holding hands to prevent shooting too soon. Then if he can hit with a quick yank and a haymaker punch backed up by super soldier abilities and strength enhancing suit he tries to lay the guy out fast and stash him out of the way before anyone can notice he is gone. If he is lucky, he might get a chance to do that a few more times before the theives already in the building with him realize that they...are not alone.
"Whuh... the hell?", comes the confused and frankly dumbstruck look on his face. "The 'ell kinda giberish is that?" Already the large man was starting to walk out of the alley. Fear... the universal language. Supposedly anyway.
Shaking his big frying pan hands as though ushering the lad away, he says in the same awkawrd grunt, "Git! Scram! Run! Get outta he~Oh learn bloody english!" he finally shouts in exasperation! Thats when the singing starts...
Gorilla boy isn't the only one to look up, and in fact another three 'gentlemen' from the alley club turn and start walking around the van blocking the way to the service door. One or two sniff at the air, only to get an elbow to the ribs from one of the others. Rifles start to come up as the ground.. changes?
"Whuh' the.." comes the grunt of the bigman, as one of the smaller fodder nods to the van with his head, prompting a thug to climb in the back.
Now even the remaining few further back in the allway were starting to take notice though, as word came that there was a strange couple in the street.
"Oi! This brat your kid? Get 'im outta 'ere before y'all get hurt!"
This gave spidey the perfect cover. Nobody was paying attention to the bank anymore and that lets the Iron Spider slip down the wall and up into the back. Its all hallways and offices back here, and already the men were spreading themselves thin looking for the vault.
Still, knowledge of the interior asside,this still looks alot more skilled than common thugs. They stick to teams of two and seem to like covering blind spots, they keep assault rifles leveled, and the guy carrying all the equipment had three gungoons watching him! This wasn't their first rodeo, but maybe, just maybe, it would be their last.
It looks hopeless for a few seconds, when finally a thug turns and breaks off.
"Oy! Boss said to stick toge~"
"Piss I'm just having a smoke! Relax... go look. I'll catch up."
His friend tuns to leave, and no longer is the man unsupervised than a streak from the sky! ER... ceiling.
"MMPH?!" comes the muffled cry followed by a sickening 'Crack!' and a dull thump. Well.. one down.. a bajillion to go.. but hey! How hardcould it be?
The couple continue their marry way... at one point they almost bump into one of the thugs, but the woman simply gracefully... leaps up and *floats*. She fricking *floats* over him, the man holding on to her doing the same thing. And the singing, the lovely singing just continues.
And that's when the petals start falling from the sky, as if it were a forest in mid-autumn.
The Cheshire has a good idea of what Spidey is doing, so he is trying to create as much of a WTF moment to make these thugs completely oblivious to what may be going on. Distract them, then pick them one by one. Then it'll be easy to deal with the ones inside. However, Vorpal isn't very keen on how the man is yelling at Soleil.
He has a little surprise for him.
"Oy, YOU learn English!" The man's right hand suddenly sprouts a face, with two beady eyes glaring at him. "I'm a frickin' bodypart and *I* speak better English than you!"
"Je ne comprends pas!" Soleil insists once more, flailing his arms a bout and 'tripping' over something imposible, his icee going flying towards the poor man shouting at him. "OH! PARDON!" He is absolutely mortified, really, hands moving to his face as his eyes water and he reaches out a hand towards the man (in his direction, moving closer instead of further away). "Oh Pardon...Monsieur!" He hears the voices and music and such and its...disturbing, yes, but he's busy confusing the hell out of some one as he tugs a disposable camera out of his pocket and holds it up to take a picture, light flashing. "Sentez-vous cette odeur de brule?" Because he knows the man can't understand him, why not ask if he smells burning as he continues speaking, babbling something in French between sobs that could be translated as 'It is obviously your brain as you try to think you stupid mo-' well, you get the gist. FLASH.
Iron Spider has a love hate relationship when it comes to professionals in a job like this. The fact that they know what they are doing means little chance of civilians getting hurt, or of things going really bad like having a car load of kids end up in the middle of it. On the flip side, it also means its much harder to pick them off form shadows and make them turn on one another. That means a slight change in tactics. Now that he has one out he can see if he is carring anything he can use and then go looking to make some trouble.
Iron Spider pulls up all the plans he can find on the building on his HUD and overlays where he the varous sensors on the suit can find people on a wire fram just so he knows where everone is. That done the suit changes, reconfigures its self in a few places and then overlays a hologram so that Iron Spider can look as close to the thug he knocked as he can. Grabbing a gun he follows the path the guy would have taken back. His plan, get close enough to the thug's partner to go with an unexpected punch to the kidneys, a blow to the throat, spin them so that the guy he is hitting is between him and any other thugs and drop down to the ground while turning hismelf invisable again. Once he is on the ground and invisable he is not going to stay there though. Instead he will do a kick flip to the ceiling and cling there skittering over so he is behind anyone that might have seen him and started shooting.
On the inside, a thugs body is stowed away in an office where they won't be found, and little is found on them. Wallet, a few ammo clips, a pack of cigarettes.. a bag of white... powder.. okay lets not go there! Ah! Jackpot! A pair of flashbangs! Now the party can start... but tracking everyone down.. that takes a little more time.
Meanwhile... Outside...
"GYARGH!", shouts the brute advancing on Sol. They just got a rather cold drink to the face. He at least is blind to the sudden midair dance that everyone else is now watching, wide eyed in disbelief. Their jaws slack, heaven forbid they level their guns at the sky, they just stand there dumbfounded!
"I'll ge' you fer tha'!", the brute shouts, frantically wiping the ice out of his eyes and face. Thats when suddenly... his hand yells at him. "GYEEEEAAAAAAGH!" The yell was horrible! Flapping his hand aimlessly away from his face, he backs quick enough into one of his friends to knock them over... into the next person, into the next, which starts a nifty little chain reaction.
A few gunshots go off, alot of shouting is happening, and suddenly things are MUCH less organized outside. Oh what a picture it makes! Thugs dogpiled atop one another, one still white faced looking at his hand, and only one, finally, spotting the flash.
"Wh.. THE BRATS GOT A CAMERA! Get him!"
Back inside...
Gunshots outside! Just as you managed to figure out where everyone was, people start running for the back door! Or.. a team of them do. With about half the thugs total still inside, now making their way to the bank vault, the inside guard was running for the alley to see what was happening.
What joyful luck that you spot the persons partner running for the door! "Oy Dipshi~" is as far as he gets before the sounds of soft violence are lost on the clambor to get outside! Two unconcious now, and hidden away in an office.. well.. maybe this will be easier than you thought! Just as the Iron Spider closes on the bank vault, he see's the last two teams setting up.. oh come on a LAZER?! Really?
"Riddle me this... riddle me that...." a voice echoes from above as the thugs fall in a chain reaction. "Who is afraid of the purple cat?"
Out of thin air, Vorpal appears, floating in mid-air. "It's bedtime for Bonzo, kids!"
With a wave of his hand, the cat begins to produce... bowling balls. In groups of threes falling from the sky. They are smaller than regular bowling balls, so not lethal... but they're definitely being aimed at conking thugs out.
FLASH! Yep, Soleil got that on film and he tilts his head to the side as the guy goes stumbling back screaming and he eyes the pile of thugs and he takes a step back when they say 'get him' and he tucks the camera away in an inner pocket before he quirks an eyebrow, opening his mouth before looking up suddenly when he hears that voice, staring at Vorpal arrives and his eyes widen as he slaps a hand over his mouth and takes a few steps back. "...oh mon dieu..." Then back at the thugs, he's eyeing them warily and cringing when balls start falling, hand moving to tug his bandana and hat off as his hair unbraids itself, slowly growing longer down his back and past his butt, but only people paying close attention would see that.
Iron Spider hmms as he spots the lazer. A few ways to deal with the whole thing come to mind, especially using the things he found from the guys he has knocked cold already. Of course he will have to skip the easy one, both the authroties and Vorpal would be upset at him if he shot the criminals and seeing Commishoner Gorden pout at him for that would just not be fun.
Iron Spider has faith that even if he is bieng shot at Vorpal will be ok. Faith, and an engagment ring made out of aprt of his suit that lets him track and check up on the life signs of his partner. No reason to worry, he takes a second to get a good eye for the angles in the room. The powder is checked to make sure it is not anything lethal...well too lethal at least...and the bag is rolled up extra tight and distressed a little so it will break on contact of thrown hard enough and the flash bangs prepaired.
As soon as he is ready Iron Spider starts to move. Into the room near the vault going left, throwing the flashbangs to the far wall on the right with enough force that they will hit with a loud noise and bounce back towards the thugs before they go off, from the other hand the bag is thrown at the head of the man obviously there to run the laser and get the thugs into the vault, and once his hands are free *thwip* a quick web line is aimed at the back end of the laser. Yippee Ki-yay and all that stuff.
What was arguably starting as one of the more structured bank robberies of late is now officially going all to hell. Inside, a sharp "What was that?!" Is interupted by sudden screams of "MY EYES!" and "SWEET MERCIFUL MOTHER!", none of which each other can hear with the auditory disorientation those flashbangs set off! The added attention to mister tech operator seems well placed, as with sudden realization, he shields his eyes and ears at the last moment!
Just as he looks up to see what was left of his moaning, shouting friends.. PAF! There's a sizzling sound as white dust contacts the lazer, but the operator himself just starts choking and couhing on the stuff. Waving his hand in front of his face, trying to clear it, he smacks his friend... who turns to punch him.. which leads to a third person being fall in TO! Now it was getting to be chaos inside and out! The lazer, meanwhile, is ripped off the vault door before more than a little hole is burned with a swift "TH-TNK!", thankfully powering down as its torn off.
Outside is shouting and pandemonium. It seems the thugs are torn somewhere between "GRAB THAT GUY WITH THE CAMERA", "WATCH OUT!" and listening to the sweet sounds of chirping birds as they fall to the ground unconcious. A few of the guys from the inside are sheltered and come out guns blazing, looking for nearly anything to shoot at, while others start dragging their 'friends' into the vans.
By the end of it, Soleil is all but ignored. A few guns turn skyward and start firing wildly into the air, sweeping up walls nad shooting out windows of the neighboring store trying to hit the wierd.. floating.. flying.. THING! Thats when the rooftops of two of the vans open. Are... are those chainguns?
"Chainguns? how cute." The cat says and suddenly, his grin grows bigger...and bigger... and it is so big that it suddenly detaches itself from his head and fills the alleyway from side to side. The grin opens wide and says "... go ahead. Gimme your best shot!"
Behind the illusory grin, Vorpal is well-hidden. He also creates a fifteen-food wide wall to shield himself from the bullets. So for all purposes, it will seem as if the grin is simply swallowing the bullets.
Cats are bastards, after all. He is hoping Soleil knows what he's doing down there, as he tries to get everybody's attention on him.
That...is the freakiest thing Soleil has seen, or on the list of the top freakiest things he has ever seen as he sees the grin detach, but he pushes the future nightmares to the side in favor of focussing on the guy on the van mounted chain gun seeing as...nobody is paying attention to him, he has enough time to take off in a bit of a run, towards one of the walls nearest the van to use it as a bit of a boost as he pushes of the best, something akin to a dance move as he twists, tendrils of hair stretching out and reaching for the man from behind to wrap around his face and neck if it succeed and tightening quickly as the older teenager tries to use the van itself for cover, pressing against it and focussing. Hair pulsing between a jet black and a dark golden blond color.
Iron Spider does not just pull the laser off the vault, he makes sure there is an arc in the pull so that he can smash it against a wall. Just in case there is no auto shut off. Once he has the Laser smashed he waits for the thugs to in essence take themselves out. "That was...easier than expected." He says simply before he breaks out the webs to make sure everyone is nice and coocooned before heading for the exit of the building.
Lights come on in nearby appartments now, as the racket was far too loud to ignore! Submachine guns, assault rifles, and two CHAINGUNS were ripping into the air at Vorpal, who with his lovely illusion show had everyone quite... yeah. Distracted is a good word. 911 has been getting swamped with calls, and already off in the distance sirens could be heard closing in.
One of the chainguns then RIPS up a wall, its opperator suddenly flailing as something constricts around his throat. With a throttled gag he tries to pull the hair off sufficiently to get some air, but his friends don't even seem to have noticed he stopped firing. They were too preoccupied with what was high above.
The Iron Spider has the easiest cleanup job at the moment. As the lazer smashes to a million pieces against the hard vault door, sending a musical ring throughout the building anyone who wasn't unconcious was still blindly stumbling abotu when the webs come down. The last thing Iron Spider will hear on his way out is a few cusses at 'That damned freak!'
Lights come on in nearby appartments now, as the racket was far too loud to ignore! Submachine guns, assault rifles, and two CHAINGUNS were ripping into the air at Vorpal, who with his lovely illusion show had everyone quite... yeah. Distracted is a good word. 911 has been getting swamped with calls, and already off in the distance sirens could be heard closing in.
One of the chainguns then RIPS up a wall, its opperator suddenly flailing as something constricts around his throat. With a throttled gag he tries to pull the hair off sufficiently to get some air, but his friends don't even seem to have noticed he stopped firing. They were too preoccupied with what was high above.
The Iron Spider has the easiest cleanup job at the moment. As the lazer smashes to a million pieces against the hard vault door, sending a musical ring throughout the building anyone who wasn't unconcious was still blindly stumbling abotu when the webs come down. The last thing Iron Spider will hear on his way out is a few cusses at 'That damned freak!'
"If you are good boys... I will not EAT YOU. NOW GET DOWN ON THE GROUND OR I WILL HAVE YOU FOR DINNER!" comes the resonant voice of the Cheshire cat, amplified as it was into a nightmarish echo by his powers of illusion. Having seemingly 'eaten' the bullets, the grin now opens wider still, threatening to swoop down and eat the men, lest they give up peacefully.
Over ---> there at the van, Soleil, tries not to wince at the struggling and hearing the gun shooting, heart beating so hard its in his throat as he uses the man as a bit of an anchor to scale the side of the van, climbing up on top and laying on his stomach as he slithers towards the man his hair is currently strangling (from behind) and he takes a deep breath, attempting to squeeze hard enough to try to get the man to black out, tightening his grip. "Psst, gun regulation mon sweet croissant loving ass..."
Iron Spider snorts a little as he is called a freak, and then shrugs. "Wrong Spider. When you eventually get to tell whomever hired you what happened here...tell them that the Iron Spider is watching." He may have no idea who planned this, but the robbery is very obviously planned and a nice threat might help him smoke out whomever is behind it. That done, he heads quickly for a way out. Maybe the roof since he can hear the chainguns going where he is now and he would rather not get the bruises that those will cause even through his armor.
And here comes the cavalry, always five minutes late. But hey, they are effective. These are comical cops, these are actual New York SWAT. They're rolling into the area in their tactical (and armored) vans. The vehicles skid to stops at each end of the block the bank is on. Their doors facing away from the bank so that the men inside can deploy without being exposed to incoming fire. Ballistic vests and Balaclavas are the order of the day for them. S.W.A.T. is emblazoned on the chests of the armor, and they wield an assortment of weapons. Several with M4 rifles, a few with MP-5 Submachineguns. One from each van carry M40 Marine Sniper Rifles. Those immediately make their ways along with a spotter for each, to neighboring buildings while the rest are starting to deploy around the vans.
Okay... Morale was certainly fading. Even before that giant mouth started talking a few people had dropped their guns and run. The smart ones ran out the back alley. They were also the minority. Only a few would get away that night to tell their bosses what really went down.
Of course, after that mouth declares its intentions, more guns start dropping pretty quick. Around the same time, in fact, the one thug on the van mounted gatling finally collapses limp inside the compartment with a final choke, eyes rolled back. He was still alive, rest assured, but wouldn't be a problem for some time yet.
Now truely broken, the remainder of the thugs start to flee around the van Soleil was, graciously, now pressed flat atop. Nobody seeming to notice this girl, they were charging in droves, those that were concious at least, out into the street to run in every which direction, and very few paused to see if there was anything in their way first.
Only one would get away from the scene tonight, the rest caught by police behind the building, or charging straight into the waiting arms of the SWAT setting up all around. A even grabbed at officers desperately, shouting "T-take me in! L-lock me up! Just get me OUTTA HERE!"
All... that is, except one. Back in the alley, one guy wasn't fooled by the illusions. Climbing into the truck second deep in the alley, a revving engine could be heard. He was going to try and ram the police blockade damnit, come hell or high water! The only thing in his way was the van Soleil was atop.
Zatanna was right! Sometimes a well-placed illusion saved you a lot of bullet-holes. But, of course, there were always skeptics.
The Cheshire cat dismisses the illusion as the others run and cuts his levitation, landing on the floor between the car and Soleil's van. His eyes glow in the headlights the way cats' eyes do, and he smirks, giving him the 'come at me' hand gestures.
Vorpal is going to try and time it right, so that he summons a wall in front of the car right before it smashes against him. Because trying to ram people isn't nice, and Vorpal is all about Public Service Announcements.
Soleil feels the man pass out really in a way, the heart rate slowing down = pulse slowing down and the tendrils of hair unwrap/uncurl from where they were gripping and withdraw back with a whip quick efficiency, coming to rest back at a butt length as the young French man hears the sirens and such, head jerking up in time to see the car starting to head towards his van and he freezes for a moment when Vorpal drops down. "Faites attention!" And he gets to his feet, still bent in a crouch and backflips off of the van, landing sloppily in something akin to a crouch/sprawl, swearing violently in French, beat up sneakers really don't have good traction.
Iron Spider gets to the roof, and the edge where he can see what is going on just in time to see Vorpal playing cat and mouse with the van. Part of him wants to face palm, but he knows the most important rule of that game. Always be the cat. He debates trying to stop the van anyway but...well he knows Vorpal well enough to guess what he is going to do. Instead he thwips a few web lines at anyone that looks like they might get away or cause too much trouble for hte Gotham PD down below before bouncing off the roof and skittering down the fronht of the building fully visable in his costume.
The crunch of metal not withstanding, the night returns back to its sleepy quiet. Sirens die down as the motor sizzles and the last of the thugs in the area rests sleepily, knocked cold, on an air bag. The day was won, the money saved, but the question remains. Where did these punks get this kind of hardware, this kind of teamwork? This was just a few steps above what is normal for the area...
Well, they may be late, but they are efficient. The SWAT teams approach the scene, weapons at the ready, snipers in position in converging firing positions to provide cover. "Thank you for your assistance." says the Lieutenant of the team as they start taking criminals into custody. Handcuffs and zip ties are the order of the day while the beat cops approach to start taking statements and reports. SWAT doesn't do that. They look mean, take point, and shoot people when necessary. But for the most part, this appears resolved, and they didn't even get to.. er.. um.. -need- to shoot anyone.
The purple cat walks away from the 'accident' and towards the officers. Digging his ID out of his jacket, he flashes it.
Not that he NEEDS to. Purple cat. They probably know who he is. "Vorpal. Keith O'Neil. BSA number's right here... thank you for comming, Lieutenant. Looks like you've got something heavier than the usual threepenny thieves here. Can you let Commissioner Gordon I'll try to stop by soon for a full statement and debriefing?"
Pushing himself up on his feet and rubbing his fingerless gloved hands against his thighs, Soleil's hair looks perfectly normal now hanging down his back, thick and wavy and not even mussed as he limps to the other side of the van, eyeing the guy who had yelled at him and gotten an Icee in the face as he's taken into custody and he hesitates for a moment, bending down to set the camera on the ground to see if anybody can see it as he peeks from around the van before flipping up his hood and starting to walk in the opposite direction. Cops baaad, cops baaaad.
"Deffenetly more than the typical." Says a slightly electronic voice just behind the Lieutenant. How a grown man, in a crimson red body suit, can sneak up on someone in the middle of a crowd of heavely armed police officers is a question for the ages. Especailly since he was not even using his stealth to do it. "Not only heavily armed but they were well organized and here on someone's orders. There are a good half dozen stil inside, but they are...detained and mostly out cold. Not even any broken bones....although the only one likely to be able to tell you anything will be out of it for a bit. He had an accident with enough cocaine to count as a second degree felony. Iron Spider, my registrationnumbers will all be on the paperwork that is printing out at your desk, and the Commisioners, right about....now."
Category:Log