|Allana Solo (sanguinesolo) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2011-03-29 18:57:00
|Entry tags:||allana solo, clark kent/superman|
Who: Clark and Allana (and the unluckiest NPC muggers in Lawrence)
What: Muddled heroics
Where: The apparently sketchy streets of Lawrence
Warnings: Violence, language
Most people did not respond to mysterious threats on their life from unknown sources by going out for coffee at 3am. Then again, most people hadn’t grown up in a royal court and then in an ex-senator and ex-smuggler’s home knowing, through instruction repeated so many times the rules became intuitive, never to sit with your back to a door, never to turn around until someone had completely left the room, and to always mark the entrances and exits to a space when you entered it. If Allana reacted to the possibility of attack or assassination with fear, or even with what most people would have considered appropriate caution, she would have long ago have given up going out all together, and would probably have been regarded with puzzlement by a family that compared kidnappings of its children the way some people compared bouts of the chicken pox. Besides, she’d missed the diner this past week or so when Jen, with her bullet wound and then her mysterious inability to heal and subsequent return to the desire to snack on the living, had taken up most of her mind. It was still a present worry but, for now, there wasn’t much she could do about it.
So she’d gone out to the diner for coffee around 1am, Dance, Dance, Dance by Murakami tucked under her arm, and let the grumbles of slow-moving waitresses, muttering workers on break from their night shift jobs as janitors or security guards, and slurring of college students from KU grabbing a coffee to sober up before they headed home wash around her in a soothing hum. The waitresses and regulars had smiled and waved at her, she’d gotten some reading done, and she’d just been Allana Smith for a little while, completely unremarkable aside from some apparent insomniac tendencies. It had been nice, definitely the sanity-saving part of her day, but 3am brought the onset of drowsiness and she paid for her coffee and headed out into a light drizzle, pulling the hood of her jacket up so that it hung over her face and hair and putting in her ear buds to listen to her ipod on the walk home.
She was about halfway home when she felt it, a disturbance in the Force that came from fear reaching its breaking point and the malice that had caused it. Slowing her steps she pulled out her headphones and put a hand on her lightsaber, tucked away safely in a pocket, edging towards the disturbance until she could actually hear the voices, hushed and rough, at the mouth of an alleyway a few feet in front of her. A woman, a night worker at the nearby hospital judging by her scrubs, probably on her way to the bus, was surrounded by three men in hooded sweatshirts. As Allana approached, still feeling out the presences around her to make sure there weren’t demons nearby, that this wasn’t a trap, the woman tried to dart around one of them and he cursed, catching her arm and swinging her around so that her back hit the wall with a dull thud.
“Look,” the man started, “just give us your fucking—“ and then grunted in surprise as Allana collided with him, doing her best to imitate the drunken stumble she’d seen the college students in the diner modeling. The woman reacted instinctively, grabbed Allana’s shoulders to steady her and pull her back, and Allana locked eyes with her for a moment, put the full force of her compulsion behind a whispered command—“You’re going to run until you’re somewhere safe. You won’t look back or worry about me.” The woman took off without so much as blinking, streaking past a bewildered, and rapidly becoming irritated, group of muggers and disappearing around the corner.
All of which left Allana standing in a semi-circle of angry criminals. She was certain she could deal with them, would even enjoy doing it after the week she’d had, but if she was going to take out a lightsaber or use the Force it was probably better not to do it on the sidewalk and so she began backing away into the alley, pretending to be scared enough not to realize she was trapping herself.
“Um, look, I’m really sorry. I only have like a dollar on me, so, um, just let me leave maybe?” she tried, pitching her voice higher as she backed away, drawing them after her. That sounds helpless right? Kitten up a tree? Come on just follow me, just a couple more steps…