WHO: Gab Cruz. WHAT: The Grinch attempts to steal some of Gab's shit. WHEN: Saturday night, March 11th. WHERE: Stuy Town. WARNINGS: N/A
Coming from an evening walk, Bailey started barking as soon as she and Gab entered the apartment.
"What's wrong, Bae?" Gab asked his doggo, dropping his keys on the table and taking his jacket off.
Bailey continued to bark as she scuttled to her owner's bedroom door, pawing and scratching at the wood. Gab's brows knitted to a frown; something seemed to be off.
He then noticed the TV was missing.
Alerted to sudden danger, he grabbed one of Ariel's pens from the table and followed after Bailey. He raised his ballpoint weapon in front of his face, forgetting his five-month old superpowers existed, and slowly turned the doorknob. But just as he was pushing his door open, he heard a crash.
He immediately turned the lights on.
"Tangina—Shit!"
His room was a mess: drawers were open, clothes were strewn, and papers scattered on the floor. His laptop was no longer on his desk, along with his headphones and BB-8 droid toy. He rushed to the open window, looked out and saw an abandoned sack on the ground. Beside it, the remnants of the TV and his belongings, shattered and broken. A part of BB-8 was still rolling around until it slowly stopped.
Gab sighed, groaning and running a frustrated hand across his face. It was late. He just got robbed. He couldn't think straight. As a foreigner stuck in an unfamiliar place, he wasn't sure what to do. He just looked around the mess of his room, Bailey nosing at his stuff and whimpering.
It eventually occurred to him that he should call 911.
But as he fished out his phone and unlocked it, the strong scent of tobacco smoke and—burning plastic?—suddenly hit his nostrils. He frowned, looking around to see if there was somehow some lit cigarette lying around. But he found none.
He put his phone back in his pocket, shutting the window and moving away from it. He studied his surroundings. It began to feel like it wasn't the work of a normal baseline thief. He didn't see anyone running away outside when he rushed to his window. Unless they faster than Usain Bolt ever could. Superspeed, perhaps?
As his line of sight passed his desk, he noticed a slightly crumpled piece of paper. He picked it up and started to read the typewritten note, letters angry and in all caps.
"—Liberated from material corporate instruments, mind enslavement—benefits you may now experience such as—an end to cancer?" He couldn't help but snort and laugh a little now. "Okay, I guess."
Putting the note aside, he took his phone out again and began to type, alerting the network of The Grinch.