i_dovoodoo Intersections (Door)
They were there. They were always there. Day labor was hugely important in the City - very little was accomplished in the slums without the steady hands of a man that spoke no English. Despite the fact that he suspected some sort of 'balance' issue at work, the City took all kinds. The famous, the infamous; the powerful and the have-nots. It was the have-nots that Midnite was pursuing, and it was not a hard chase. Most of them would die to work for him - both figuratively, and literally. The sun was only just beginning to rise on their last day, the sky still hues of red and purple as the sun began its long trek against the heavens.
He promised good money for their services, and often times he had very little reason to pay when their usefulness was done. The white van was nondescript, but he had no intention of lingering - ten or so, pile them in, and go. The slums were a good place for a meeting, and even better for finding cheap labor that wouldn't be missed, but the police still ventured into these parts every now and again. It wouldn't do to be caught in the act.
Idly, his fingers brushed against the charms around his neck. He tried not to use them too often - the more he did, the more they needed to be replaced - but they kept the voice at bay. And the visions. The waking nightmares that he'd only heard stories about; his entire family arrayed before him with blood streaked down their faces. The slaves. All of them. Midnite shook his head to clear it, his eyes seeking anything to change his train of thought.
That was when a girl caught his attention. Not very tall, not very pretty, not very... anything. She seemed hazy for a moment, before clarifying in his sight. That was his first sign that something was wrong. But while the men crowded around his van, she hung back; Midnite was intrigued by someone who would be at a day laborer's pick-up spot and yet not charge toward the highest paying employer immediately.
Leaving one of his employees - his 'real' employees - to handle the mass of laborers trying to scramble into the van, Midnite dropped onto the pavement and approached at a slow walk, a cane in hand and cigar clamped firmly between his teeth. Smoke trailed from his nostrils as he approached her, and at last she took notice, her eyes narrowing on him. There was something in that gaze that piqued his interest more than her stance ever could.
A hard woman, and used to hard conditions. Hard, of a kind, in any case.
"Relax," he said, holding up both hands with his most disarming smile. "I have only honorable intentions. I just wanted to make sure you're really this eager to avoid work that pays well. The name is Papa Midnite. Most people call me Midnite - what's yours?"
From: i_open Date: 07/05/2006 12:17:18
Wayne Manor had been a bit of a labyrinth, as it had happened. The note she'd left Sir Bruce had been polite and grateful, thanking him for his hospitality and his help. By the end of the evening, she'd been rather convinced - despite the strange disparities in him - that he was a good man who meant her no harm.
That only made it all the more urgent that she leave as quickly as possible; an well-intentioned Upworlder, no matter how important or wealthy, wouldn't survive Croup and Vandemar for more than a moment... putting him in that kind of danger wouldn't be right. So, first thing in the morning, her ankle now completely healed, she left him that note, and began tentatively exploring the doors of Wayne Manor.
She managed to find one to the Underside from one of the many, many doors in that manse. That Underside had been strangely familiar, even though this certainly wasn't London. It had taken her out into a part of town that consisted of an element to which she was more accustomed, as far as Upworlders were concerned. Not so many of the day laborers could see her, and it was strangely comforting to be invisible again. They all rushed for that white van, and so Door held closer to the wall... she didn't want to go anywhere, only to find the way home, and quickly.
But then, he saw her.
It was no surprise that he could. His mode of dress; that cigar clenched tightly between his white, white teeth in that black, black face; that glint in his eyes that was so familiar...
He reminded her very much of the Marquis.
It was this reminder that made his words quirk her lips into a skeptical, sardonic smile as she looked up at him with eyes that were, upon closer inspection, quite singular in their refusal to pick a color and stay with it.
"Honorable? I rather doubt that," she remarked in her proper British accent, with just enough cheek not to be offensive.
"My name is Door," she offered, the name easily mistaken for an abbreviation of Doreen. Wisely, she left out her family name and title. One never knew who a body might know or talk to, especially in a place like this. "And it's not so much that I'm eager to avoid work as it is that I'm eager to avoid trouble."
There was that hint of a cheeky smile shaping her words again, but something in her eyes let him know that he had been clearly labeled as "Trouble."
From: i_dovoodoo Date: 07/11/2006 07:35:34
The only thing that kept him from repeating her name dubiously was the fact that he was not really in a position to criticize the names of others. People still thought he was a pimp with tea for a middle name, even though it was Linton, not Lipton. But her words brought a smile to his face despite that sour thought. The voice of his sister was muted, hardly a buzz in his ear, so there was nothing to distract him from this interesting young lady. Trouble. He liked being troublesome, that much was true.
"You have me there," Midnite said, with a wicked grin as he plucked the cigar from his mouth. "I've never had honorable intentions. But I do provide work; the trouble comes later. Even better work, if you've any ... interesting talents."
The grin vanished as he said that last. He was not as greasy as other individuals when it came to young women - he would bed her, if she wanted, but he was not going to grope her in the street any more than he was going to make sexual demands so soon after meeting her. There were some things a gentleman simply didn't do, not if they wanted to continue calling themselves gentlemen. Hefting his cane, Midnite let it rest over one shoulder and hit the cigar again.
"Most of these people have never spoken a word of English," Midnite said, with a quick glance over his shoulder to the laborers that were clamoring into the van. "Whereas you're actually from England. I find it hard to believe you're here to lay bricks all day."
Very hard to believe.
From: i_open Date: 07/11/2006 09:39:01
The laugh that came from her throat was short but light - a little burst of levity before she spoke.
"No," she replied. "I'd find it a sight harder to believe myself. I wouldn't know where to begin."
For a moment, she looked at him, trying to take his measure. Interesting talents? It didn't seem as though he meant his proposition in an unseemly manner, but neither was she certain it would be wise for him to know of her "talent." He was dangerous - it was obvious. Charming, certainly, but that didn't mean he could be trusted. In fact, in Door's experience, the level of a person's charisma often had an inverse effect on his trustworthiness.
Who was to say that this one wouldn't sell her to Croup and Vandemar, tied prettily in a bow, if the price was right?
Absolutely nothing.
"Well, despite the temptation of working for someone wholly lacking in honorable intentions, I'm afraid I'll have to decline." The judgment of her words was contradicted by her tone, which might have been teasing, and lacked any indication of condemnation. Door had her own ideas about honor and intent, but living in the Underside taught her that everyone had his or her own way to go, and that trying to hold others to her own personal beliefs was not only dangerous, but rather stupid.
Slowly and vaguely, she continued, "Although I have a few talents... but I don't think I'll be staying in town long enough to seek employment."
It wasn't clear to her why she'd just said that. It probably hadn't been wise to do so. And now he was looking at her with greater interest, which wasn't quite what she'd wanted. He was just so damned familiar in that odd way, it had made her talk too much.
Edging to the left, she said uncomfortably, "So, I suppose I ought to be going then... but thank you for the offer."
From: i_dovoodoo Date: 07/11/2006 13:23:21
There was something odd about her, about the way she moved and spoke. Nervous, but not because of him. No, this one was not afraid of Papa Midnite - the thought was intriguing, that she wasn't afraid of him. Most people - even those who didn't know who and what he was - were nervous around him. Not that Midnite blamed them. He worked to make his image intimidating.
Then again, she gave him the perfect window to argue the point. Only... why did he want to? She didn't look like much, but the fact that she was here and obviously not as stupid as some of the others gave him a reason to think it was worth his while to convince her to come along. At least long enough for him to figure what talents, if any, that she might have.
"You won't be in town?" Midnite asked, with a short laugh as he spread his arms. "This is all there is, Door. I've tried - believe me, I've tried - to find a way back. But wherever we are, there is no way back to where we came from. That means we have to do what we can to scratch out a living, here."
Just the city, may God curse it. Or the devil, since he was more likely to answer such a call. Or any call. The thought of God and Satan made his blood boil, but there it was.
"This could be Hell, for all we know," Midnite muttered, after a moment. "How would I know what Hell is like? Only that there's no escape."
He shook his head to clear it, quite suddenly, and another thought occurred to him.
"You ran afoul of someone, did you?" Midnite asked, with a quirked eyebrow. "Someone dangerous? They won't cross me, whatever cause you gave them. That much I can promise you."
If his luck was in, she would have a talent similar to some of the other... talents ...the City's residents shared. Like seeing the future, or something to that effect. He was tired of rolling bones for the answers he sought, only to find they gave different answers every time.
From: i_open Date: 07/11/2006 14:35:18
The knowledge that he was from Somewhere Else, and had tried to return, was a bit more discouraging than she'd have liked to admit. Ever since she'd left Sir Bruce's home, she'd been trying doors here and doors there - none leading home - none yet. This man's eyes told a story of age and power, and if one such as he hadn't been able to find a way back...
But then, Door had been able to open passageways where even angels had failed. Her abilities weren't to be underestimated, and it was best if she remembered that - especially considering how high a price she'd paid - they'd all paid - for having them.
"We aren't in Hell," Door said quietly, more to herself than to Midnite. "There's an Underside here. There's no Underside in Hell."
There was utter conviction in her tone, though in truth, Door had had no experience with the realm. She only knew it existed, and that if she were there now, things would be much, much worse.
But his final words startled her in their perceptiveness, causing her to blink up at him with wide eyes. How did he know? Was he offering her protection?
More and more, she was going to have to accept the possibility that leaving here might not, in fact, be so easy as opening a door - no matter how singularly important that door could be. And if that was so, and she was trapped here for any amount of time, it meant that Croup and Vandemar could easily be on her heels at any moment - if they weren't already. After casting a paranoid look to her right, her eyes flashed back to his face for a moment. Now his offer was tempting. Safety - at least for as long as it took her to find her way home. He was offering a favor. And in return... in return, her anonymity, certainly. Once she revealed what she could do, which would expose, in effect, who she was, her life could very well be in his hands. But then, if he offered the favor of protection for proper payment, he couldn't very well turn on her.
At least not by Underside rules. And though this might not be the Underside - although there might not even be an Underside where he came from - everything about him screamed that he was one of its own.
Her voice was incredibly quiet, then she looked back at him.
"I open things," she said, still quietly. "It's what I do, it's what I am. Doors, locks, windows, what have you. And so I think if I can only find the right door, I might be able to find my way home."
A shudder almost went through her as she spoke. Her heart was thudding wildly against her ribs, or so it seemed, now that she'd exposed herself to this stranger. But it was necessary. Door was no fighter, and she didn't know this city at all. If the use of her talents might ensure her survival until she could find her way home, then so be it. And if offering this Papa Midnite passage home would earn her his protection, then fair enough.
"So then. There it is, I suppose," she offered.
From: i_dovoodoo Date: 07/11/2006 22:52:37
Vicious, horrid creatures.
She obviously didn't understand who she was dealing with, did she? Midnite smiled, even white teeth outlined by that dark face.
"Door opens doors," Midnite glanced over his shoulder to his people, who were quickly filling the van to capacity. "I wish my name were that clever. They named me Midnite because I was a 'nigger'. I'm sure you can appreciate the irony of a man in my business being named Midnite."
Vicious, horrid creatures. He doubted that she meant demons, or creatures of the night in the way that Midnite knew them. Something about this Underside she kept mentioning. Almost as if she thought it was a whole 'nother world. Midnite wasn't completely ignorant on the idea, but he'd never been able to accept it, personally. If it was to be believed, there was a mirror of this world that all manner of shady people resided in. It was called a ghetto, so far as he was concerned, and he had no desire to visit it again. In the meantime, giving her something to eat - and time to adjust to the offer he'd made - was in order.
"I think I could find a use for a woman of your talents," Midnite told her, and then his smile deepened.
"I pay well. Very well."
From: i_open Date: 07/12/2006 07:07:07
"It's a family name," she offered vaguely, slightly distracted by the pile-on in his van, then turning back to him. Racial epithets were a strange Upworlder phenomenon, as far as Door was concerned. In London Below, there were certainly different groups, categorized by different terms (some derogatory, some not), but they weren't based on anything so silly as race.
Not that class was much better, but there it was.
Getting paid didn't sound bad. The Underside here wasn't well-known to her yet, and she didn't even know if it was fully developed - most likely not, as no one here Above seemed to even know of it. While bartering was always preferred, she found herself without resources at this juncture, and a need to eat.
Though she had the strong sense that she'd find her home - or at least some version of it that this place had provided - fairly easily. Nonetheless, getting paid, even if it was in the form of currency that Upworlders preferred, would make sure that she kept her strength up enough to keep trying to find a way home, between whatever jobs Midnite gave her.
Opening the doors of Upworlders and their places didn't trouble Door overmuch. It was terribly easy, and she didn't really understand the ways they did things. They put so much value on these little scraps of paper that meant nothing at all, really. Imaginary worth, imaginary cost - and they killed and fought and died for it.
Upworlders didn't make much sense.
"I'm a useful sort," she said, her discomfort not even tugging at her tone. Her family's hereditary usefulness was exactly what had gotten them all killed. But there was no real need to get into all that. "How well is well?"
It didn't matter. Not really. He would probably give her those scraps of paper, and she'd have to figure out how to turn them into something useful. As long as she remained alive, fed and reasonably rested until she returned home, it would be all right. But it was never best to make it sound as though you didn't know your own worth.
A slight smile played at her lips as she looked up at him. "And what is your business, Papa Midnite? Aside from providing work for the unfortunate souls who've lost their way?"
From: i_dovoodoo Date: 07/12/2006 07:45:04
Well, now she was curious about what it was that he actually did. There were a thousand different answers to that question, depending on how he wanted to portray himself, but her ability overshadowed any desire on his part to obscure the truth. If it was true. That remained to be seen, but Midnite had no reason to doubt, given some of the other people with varied... talents ...that had shown themselves in the City. So how honest could he afford to be with her? Not so honest that he would tell her what was going to happen to these laborers, that much was certain.
"My business is making money, of course," Midnite told her with that smile still in place, taking another hit of the cigar. "Real estate, for the most part, though I have a club that I own. Of course, I don't need any doors in my club opened for me. How well I pay depends on the job, but I pay in percentages, and you can take that percentage however you want it."
She was eager, he could tell, but they were running out of time. Midnite didn't want to linger here, and be forced to kill a policeman in front of her. He cast another glance toward the van, which his people were securing even as he spoke. Those that were left usually ran off to find other work, but sometimes if a policeman was nearby that police officer would pay extremely well to find out where they were being picked up. Midnite didn't want that kind of trouble. Not even a little.
"Perhaps we can talk more at my place of business," Midnite suggested, gesturing toward the van. "If you don't mind a lift."
From: i_open Date: 07/12/2006 09:09:24
It would have been difficult to hold back the amused smile that came to her lips when he said that his business was making money. If the Marquis had operated in London Above, it was likely that his answer would have been the same, open end and all. Real estate was something completely foreign to Door's expertise, and clubs... well of course she'd been to them, but as he'd said, he wouldn't likely need her there. Which lead her to believe that her suspicions were right - he'd want her to get him into places that they likely shouldn't be, to "make money."
Percentages and pay were secondary to her, but she refrained from shrugging at them, since they were obviously important to him. At this point, she made note that he was looking around as much as she was, though likely for a different reason. When he suggested that they go back to his club, however, she looked at his van suspiciously. Riding Sir Bruce's car had nearly given her a heart attack. This thing looked more lumbering than that other vehicle, but nonetheless, she cast a glance from him to the van to Midnite. There wasn't much choice - not really. She didn't know where his club was, and so getting to it through the Underside that was unfamiliar to her was a risky move in the most polite of terms. Cautiously, she said,
"How fast does it go?"
From: i_dovoodoo Date: 07/13/2006 13:09:57
Midnite glanced over his shoulder, his expression betraying none of the surprise that he felt. She wanted to know how fast his van would go? If the police were coming, he would have heard about it long before this one could know. But then why? Well, it seemed like a harmless question, in any case - he might as well answer it. After all, what harm could it do to tell some wisp of a thing the top speed on a Ford van? Midnite couldn't picture any harm at all.
"Well, it isn't much to look at," Midnite told her dryly. "But it will push one hundred, one-ten if you're lucky."
Midnite was still looking over his shoulder, not really concerned with her reaction to that piece of news. They were locking up the van now, making sure no one could leap out of the back. Midnite heaved his cane to one of them, and slapped his hands together in an unspoken request for the keys. The fellow complied immediately, and Midnite smiled to one and then the other of his two employees.
"You're walking."
Then he turned back to Door, only to find a strange expression on her face. "What happened?"
From: i_open Date: 07/13/2006 15:16:38
The horror that registered on Door's face was as vivid as if he'd just told her that he meant to take that van to some voodoo workshop and transform all its passengers into undead zombie landscapers to do his bidding after they mowed his lawn and trimmed the bushes. Perhaps more vivid, at that. Standing stock still, she looked as though she'd rather jump off of the roof of the building in front of which they were standing than get into the lumbering device of destruction that loomed in front of them.
"One hundred?" she echoed. "One hundred kilometers per hour?"
The figure was mind-boggling. It was certain that through the right doors, one could travel that much distance in an even shorter time. It was also so that on a train, one could easily go so fast. But that was a train, a proper vehicle outfitted with proper seats, where there was plenty of room to move around and other things to do so that you weren't four inches from a pane of glass that could shatter in your face just before your most untimely demise.
"That can't be safe." She eyed the road, and the few other cars passing by on it, remembering how many cars there were when Sir Bruce had woven them through the dense traffic.
There had to be some other way. But she had no idea what that would be. Oh, Temple and Arch, how had she gotten herself into a situation where she was forced to use Upworlder travel again and again?
"How does anyone manage to survive up here, rocketing around in things like this at those speeds?"
She still wasn't moving.
From: i_dovoodoo Date: 07/15/2006 20:35:48
Midnite looked from Door, to the van, several times before he realized what was going on. She was afraid of the van? Midnite had met some strange persons in his lifetime - some that believed cameras stole souls, and others that believed placing a hat on a flat surface was inviting evil into your life. They were all valid superstitions, and worked around with haste because he needed certain skills. Just as he needed Door's. But the van? It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Midnite offered her his arm, and gestured toward the van with a smile on his face.
"I promise you. It's all a matter of control. Besides, if we stay here," and Midnite looked around to indicate the nearly-deserted intersection. "We're going to be much worse off. We're going to spend a few hours in jail. And you don't want that - not in this town."
She still seemed reticent - though her hand was on his arm, Door's feet were firmly planted in place. This was going to take a bit more coaxing, wasn't it? They didn't really have time, but they didn't really have another choice, either. His men had already started walking. They understood what an order was.
"Please, Door," Midnite said, still in that smooth voice that showed no signs of stress. "This van is very safe."
It took more words to get another step out of her. And another. Until he was talking almost constantly, just to get her to take very short and deliberate steps toward the van. They were off in short order, and none too soon.