Thread: Blackmaaaail (scene lottery) Who: Bethan and Jacob What: Blackmail is the magic word Where: Jacob's house When: During and directly after school on Tuesday (We're assuming spring break is off, hope that's okay) Warnings: Well, it's the town skeeze and a psychotic crazy lady, so let's just say ALL the warnings. ALL OF THEM.
She didn't honestly want to go anywhere near ben Israel. He sickened her, and, in a deep-rooted and utterly ridiculous way, he kind of frightened her, as well. He was everything she hated, everything she mistrusted, and everything she absolutely did not want in her life.
Unfortunately, he was also in a position where he could be really useful to her.
She wasn't about to walk up to him in the street and just talk to him, though; that would be stupid. So, instead, she swallowed her disgust, reminded herself that it needed to be done and getting all squeamish and girly about it wouldn't help, and headed out for his house - which, even with her relatively rudimentary computer skills, hadn't been too hard to find.
It was important to be inconspicuous, so she parked the Mongrel closer than she might have done, only a block or so away from his house, and despite the urge to climb up over the roofs and feel the wind in her hair, it wasn't until she was in his back yard that, checking to make sure all the streets and windows in view were unoccupied, she started to climb. As she went, she was careful to keep an eye out for anyone who might see her, and when at one point an old lady went past with a dog, she almost stopped breathing, flattening herself against the wall as if that would help and wishing fervently that her power was something useful, like invisibility. But the old woman didn't turn her head, and the dog didn't bark, and a couple of minutes later Bethan had shimmied the window open and was in Jacob's room.
As soon as she was out of sight of the window, she tossed her helmet onto the bed and leant back against the wall, taking a couple of deep, steadying breaths before she checked her watch. 2:30. That should give her plenty of time before he got back. A moment to get herself properly under control, and then she twitched the curtains closed and got to work.
She'd expected there to be something she could use amongst the clutter. She hadn't expected nearly as much as she found. It made her skin crawl, but she sifted methodically through it all anyway; tapes, notebooks, the occasional object she figured was probably Rachel Berry's, and lots and lots of photographs. A lot were of Rachel; Rachel in Glee Club, Rachel in the hallways, Rachel in the lunch room. She put those in a neat pile on his desk, then spread them out so they were all at least partially visible, and turned her attention to the other photographs.
These were more varied, and they made the skin on the back of her neck rise. Some were similar to the pictures of Rachel, but of different girls; Quinn, Santana, Brittany, Tina... A lot of them were relatively harmless, panty-shots and close-ups of low-cut tops, and with those she was able to swallow her disgust and spread them out in a third pile on his desk, next to the pile of Rachel and the pile of other Glee girls.
Significantly worse were the fourth set. They had all pretty clearly been taken in places he had no right to be; some looked like store changing rooms and others she recognised as being taken in the girls' locker room at school. They showed girls in various states of undress, mostly either in underwear or wrapped in towels, but a few, mostly blurry, fully naked photographs as well. That was bad enough; she felt dirty just touching them. But when she came across the first one of herself - mostly from behind, so it could have been worse, but still mostly naked and still definitely her - she dropped it like it had burnt her and lurched halfway across the room, gagging.
Great. Now she was really tempted to just break his face and leave without getting what she'd come for.
It was just lucky he wasn't there to beat the crap out of, so she could focus instead on forcing herself to calm down. It took a long time, and when she straightened up, checking her watch, she found she didn't have much more than ten minutes until what she'd figured to be his ETA. Forcing herself to detach and not give more than a cursory glance to any of the photographs as she sorted them quickly into the piles on the desk. She'd got most of them in place when she heard the door open downstairs, and abandoned her work. Disappearing out of sight behind the bedroom door, she slipped her helmet on and zipped up her padded jacket. She'd considered conducting this business as herself - and then considered it again when she'd seen that picture - but that just didn't add up. The vigilante was an enigma. If he was caught, let him remember an enigma.
And if he figured out it was her, then she'd have to decide whether he could live with that knowledge. She'd never killed anybody, but if she had to...
She shook the thought away, and slipped her hand in her pocket, her breathing soft and barely audible as her gloved thumb ran over her switchblade.