she's got the jack (copia) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-23 18:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, arielle chiaro, jareth monaco, vereessa lan |
Two Heists - One Target
Who: Lan, Ari, and Jareth
What: One heist, two thieves, one capture (spoiler: it’s not the Fox)
Where: An estate in the Nobles’ District
When: Tonight
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete!
It was good to be back. One thing was to finally get a cure and well, not die, but another completely different matter was to finally be back at the physical prime she had cultivated her entire life. Besides, Ash could only kick her ass enough times before it got old, no matter what the other Mime had to say about it. It was of no matter anymore though, as she finally felt like her old self. After doing a quick test run, quite a literal one as it involved running through rooftops like she used to. Still, it always paid to be cautious. As she was finally confident enough to get back at the game, her usual channels passed her the request for certain item being held in the mansion of certain politician. It was a high stakes job, with a very organized security detail and top notch enchantments protecting the item. It was the perfect chance to prove herself she was completely recovered. The Fox had been silent for long enough. She had an advantage though; just as the interested party had asked for The Fox’s involvement it had also provided a little help: the list of shifts in the security rounds on a certain day, as it seemed to change on a daily basis. It wasn’t much, but it was more than necessary for someone that routinely stole things without being ever seen. The designated night, The Fox slipped into the terrain where the mansion was, using the lush vegetation around it to provide cover; someone unskilled would find it to be a source of sound and signals to be tracked with, but she knew how to move through it without leaving a trace. The item was being held in the second floor, inside of a wall safe at the very end of a wide, spacious and completely deserted ballroom where guards ended their rounds. The climb to the second floor proved uneventful as Lan matched her movements to the rhythm of the rounds, easily sneaking past the windows and reaching the roof, in which she found the skylight that was exactly next to the wall safe. From there it was just a matter of waiting until the shift change was about to happen. Surely enough, a big, rough looking man strolled in, a black baton of something that might very well be steel in his right hand. The Fox saw him reach the wall, rotate and start walking towards the door to head over to the far end of the floor in which he would take the place of the man currently there. But she couldn’t allow that. Disabling the lock on the skylight had been a child’s play, so the moment the man turned around, The Fox slid a black rope that fell silently, stopping inches away from the floor and slid quickly, feet touching the floor soundlessly. The Fox basically slid towards the man, a hand going back to unsheath one of the many knives she kept hidden on her person. The man felt a presence behind him, but before he could even think about turning around he felt a sudden pain in his lower back...and then everything went black. The wound had been minimal and with surgical precision, a cut deep enough to spread the potent sleeping potion quickly, yet shallow and hidden enough to be easily concealed. She caught the man as he went down, always keeping his face away from her; The Fox was dressed entirely in black, her face completely covered and her body wearing clothes that made her gender difficult to tell, but she never took any risks. The moment she placed the man’s head on the floor, her mind started to count. She had a rather small number of seconds before the other man started to wonder why his partner wasn’t showing to change places and come looking, or worse, sound the alarm. She had to be quick. Quickly making her way to the wall safe, The Fox disposed of the first lock easily, only to discover a second one. This was the one she had been warned about; a strong magical lock that would not only cause an incredibly loud alarm if forced, but also would surely incapacitate anyone as close as she was. Breathing slowly, The Fox put her lock picking tools away and unsheathed a second blade, this one carefully hidden between her shoulder blades. For a blade, it didn’t seem awfully useful, as it was thin like a needle and not too sharp, as well as fairly frail, but it was exactly what she needed. Carefully she put the tip of the blade against the lock and pressed, a faint sizzling sound coming out of it, followed by a very faint click before the wall safe slowly swung open. It had been very worthy to have that wizard enchant the dagger with Dispel after all. She had no time to waste. The Fox quickly grabbed what she was looking for, stored it and closed the wall safe, the enchanted lock activating itself once more. She put the other lock back on and took a step back when she heard the steps of the second guard coming. The man entered the room cautiously, but soon after was running towards his partner, who was sprawled on the floor, still unconscious. There was nobody else in the room. A few minutes later, a figure strolled not too far from there. Dressed in a cocktail dress, Lan had been counting down since the moment she had slipped back into the party she had been attending. The notice to the EKP had surely arrived by then, and soon after someone would go and take a look. She knew it was a bad habit, but really, the people needed to know. The room, however, was not, in fact entirely empty. In the corner, hidden from view, was a very irate bard who had, it seemed, arrived on the scene just minutes too late. Ari had made her way up from the main floor, having shimmied into a bathroom window in the servants’ quarters that was almost -- but not quite -- too narrow to be useful to anyone far larger than a teenage boy. The servants’ stairs and corridors ran like arteries through the body of the house; it was a roundabout way to get anywhere, but no one ever bothered trapping such places, and on a quiet weekday evening, no balls were scheduled, meaning the upstairs wing was, predictably, deserted. Minus the guards, of course, but she had her ways of dealing with them, too. She listened through the door, neatly concealed behind a tapestry (it would be crass to see the doors used by the hired help, after all; she rolled her eyes, thinking of it) as footsteps came by, even and measured. She counted off seconds until they came again, her sensitive ears straining to hear any other sound in the room. Eighty. Not wonderful, but not impossible. She waited for him to come back, counted to ten, and slipped out from under the tapestry, right behind his back. A few low, hummed notes had him turning in a slow circle, looking as though he hadn’t any idea where or who he was. She waved to him -- not that he would remember seeing her -- and hurried away before he could cosh himself against a wall and break the enchantment. One down. At least three more, but one more turn and she was in the ballroom, and that was all that was required at the moment. She had just settled into her corner, melting out of sight, as the next guard came. She watched, waited -- and then, suddenly, that damnable figure in black. Coming out of nowhere -- breaking into her safe -- waltzing out with what was certain to be her assigned target -- and with how easily the person seemed to wield knives, it would have been lunacy to challenge them. She wasn’t here to die. And so she sat in her corner, seething as her mind scrambled for solutions. All the way down the hall to the entrance she’d used, or across the ballroom -- and she was no ninja; her invisibility would only cloak her as long as she stayed still. And now the second guard on duty had shouted the alarm… There was nothing to do but bolt, hopefully while everyone was too preoccupied with getting the safe open to confirm what was missing. It was a risky plan, but unless she wanted to sit here all night, there was nothing better to be done. It was only a brief flash of visibility -- just against the wall, the the lights were low. With the mottled colors of the tapestries and the deep pool of shadow once she reached the hall, she would disappear in fact. As she thought, the crowd around the safe only grew; as the guards began to bicker amongst themselves (the one she had befuddled was getting the brunt of the blame, it seemed, which was actually sort of unfair), Ari took a deep breath and dashed towards the hall, steps as silent as she could make them. She held her breath, listening. Still fighting. Good. (Well, not good; she’d have to return the advance or risk her reputation, and considering she’d already spent it, she’d need to pinch elsewhere, which meant the figure in black had a great deal to answer for…) The way out was anticlimactic after that. Stairs, corridors, finally, a small, cramped bathroom. The garden seemed empty (though she was far too annoyed to wait and count it out this time; she just needed to be out of here). With a huff of breath, she squeezed herself through the window. How the hell Jareth had become involved with robbery was beyond him. As far as he was concerned, some flunky could do this shit. Some flunky in a hall closer to the fucking Noble’s District. But no. He’d been the one told to check out the tip - on his own, since Banes was off doing who knew what, not that he cared - and so off he went, like the good little drone that they wanted him to be. He expected to get there, find the ransacked manor, offer the standard assurances to the owner - if they were even fucking there - and head out to write a report. Maybe if he started drawing frowns all over the damn things Thornton would give him better shit to do. What he didn’t expect to find was one Arielle Chiaro, supposed bard, climbing out a fucking window. He squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed them, and then reopened them, hoping the sight would disappear. Nope. “What,” he started, positioning himself right underneath her, “the fuck are you doing climbing out the window of a crime scene?” Why the hell was she even here? Merde, merde, merde! There had been no one -- no one! -- in the garden instants before. And the worst part was, she knew him; there was no way to hope he hadn’t made out her face, and the window was narrow enough that even her small frame took a few moments squeezing through. If she ran, he’d catch her. And if she put him to sleep and ran, he’d still catch her. He knew where she lived. Right across the street from him. Faram. She’d never been caught by the EKP, not once, and any and all contingency plans flew from her mind when faced with him. What was she supposed to say??? “There is a perfectly logical explanation for this,” she hissed at him. Then, trying to quash the hope in her voice: “There has been a robbery -- which had nothing to do with me, by the way. Did they call for you? You should go. I’ll just --” “Not a fucking chance,” he growled, wrapping his arms around her waist and hoisting her over his shoulder. She was light; that was helpful. It was going to be a long walk where they were going, and he doubted it was going to be a very pleasant one. This was not a problem that he wanted to deal with. Who the fuck gets caught doing shit like this? She barely muffled an outraged squeal as he hauled her up. “I have nothing to do with this!” she insisted. How had he gotten here so quickly, anyway? The figure in black had departed, what, ten minutes ago? Fifteen? The guards had still been arguing when she left the ballroom; he would have had to know about the theft before it happened -- She gasped, exclaiming, “He set me up!” Not that she knew the Fox was male, and not that the other thief had likely known of any competition, but he was the sort to rub the peacekeepers’ noses in his thieving (idiotic!) and now -- “I am not the Fox,” she insisted, trying to wriggle free. “I’m not that stupid. If you’ll just let me go and listen to me --” He tightened his hold on her so that she couldn’t escape. “Shut up.” Faram, she was annoying. How the fuck hadn’t he noticed that before? “I’m taking you--” Her heel caught him in the back of his head and he winced. “You know what? Fuck it. Shut your mouth or I’ll toss you in a cell and throw away the fucking key.” Not that he’d make good on the threat - he was using it with a lot of people lately - but she didn’t know that. Besides, for all he knew, she would end up in a cell. If she was this fucking sloppy, then she probably deserved it. “I --” With a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl (not very menacing, granted, when she delivered it), she shut her mouth, though she did deliver one more swift and vicious kick. Wherever he was taking her, it was apparently not a cell. Better to wait, though… first time in fifteen years being caught, and it had to be like this? She could almost cry with her frustration. She hadn’t even gotten anything. (That this fact might be her salvation wasn’t yet on her mind; she was too flustered to think past the overwhelming urge to get away somehow while also ensuring he forgot all about seeing her.) Tonight was an utter failure, and it could only get worse. |