Who: Felix [Narrative] Where: Pam and Kris's house, then the Greenhouse When: approximately 11:30pm
Being stuck underground really hadn't been all that bad so far. Of course, that was probably easy to think as a privileged, successful white man in the tiny community. The odds were so stacked with him that it might have been boring as fuck if it weren't for Audrey, and his current plan. The instant those baby dolls had entered the equation, Felix had decided they were the only things in town currently worth fucking with, and if he was going to do anything he should go big. He'd been playing nice otherwise, following the rules and remaining in character even for most of his interactions on the network, and that included both his marital status, and the fact that he and Audrey had somehow agreed that nothing in their combined bio stated they couldn't actually be happily wed, secret psychopaths. Like a child-murdering Bonnie and Clyde. The casual way they'd discussed their plans at home over dinner, or just relaxing in the livingroom was both fun and hilarious, and he doubted there was anyone else he could have been paired with that would have gone with it so smoothly. Well, Daphne, maybe. And Madison, he supposed, though he wasn't sure if he could add fire into the equation for her sake, or how safe that would be considering their underground status. So, Audrey. Beautiful, talented, dangerous, wonderfully-warped-in-the-head Audrey. The sex had been a bit of surprise, but certainly enjoyable, and doubly fine considering it was in character. He doubted it would last beyond their roles here, and that was absolutely fine with him. They were, if nothing else, dedicated professionals.
He'd taken a few breaks the day before to head down to the group's duplicate batcave to enjoy a few minutes of relative normality, and to get a feel for the patterns and schedules of everyone in town. The most attention went to the ladyfolk with little ones to tote around while their big, breadwinning hubbies labored away. Even before he'd calculated who the likeliest targets were going to be, he'd singled out Kiley as having the one baby he might just as well leave the fuck alone. Part of him was curious to see if Kiley might take advantage of the situation to dispose of her colic-ridden bundle of joy herself. Mostly he just liked watching her deal with the thing.
And then there was Pam. Loud-mouthed, over-dramatic, hyper-sensitive and effortlessly-offensive Pam. As one of the only moms that had a nursery she was an obvious first choice, but the impending drama volcano he was sure would follow made him almost giddy as he dressed in the darkest clothing he could find in his wardrobe. He also dressed in layers, and padded his shoes as much as possible, doing his best to obscure his shape and add a little height. He slicked his hair back and up, hiding as much of it as he could under a dark golf cap, padding the space between his head and the hat with a couple handkerchiefs to add a little more height. The finishing touch was to secure one of Audrey's generously donated dark headscarves over the lower half of his face.
It was rare for him to even consider such effort for a job, and he knew that there was plenty about his outfit that didn't look authentic, particularly the hat. It didn't need to look good, it merely needed to obscure or confuse the perception of anyone who might catch a glimpse of him in transit. There were too many people in too small a place, people who saw him every day, and no way to escape if he got caught. Better to be safe than sorry.
With most of the population either at the bar, or asleep for their early days of work or baby coddling, getting to his target wasn't terribly exciting. He stuck to the shadows, moved quickly and quietly, keeping himself as fully aware of his surroundings as possible. When he made it to the Rietsveld abode, he did a quick scan of the path he intended to take up to the nursery window. It didn't seem as if he would be much harder than when he'd scaled the mansion last time, and he'd climbed through enough windows in his life to figure out where best to place his hands and feet without creating too much noise. At the top, he pressed his palm against the glass of the nursery window and pushed upward, relieved when the whole pane slid along with it.
In the darkness of the room, he loomed over the crib to stare in at the thing inside. Damn, the dolls really were lifelike, so much that it was creepy. Not having personally interacted with one yet, he wasn't sure how sensitive they were, and he took a few seconds to decide what exactly he wanted to do. He was careful and quiet as he tucked the blue blanket in the crib around the doll's form, gently picking it up so as not to get it wailing. After pausing to listen, he moved quickly, wrapping a free section of the blanket around the doll's head to stifle any noise, then gripping through the material to pop its head off. He froze, listening for noise from the house, or the doll, or outside, and heard nothing.
With the silent, headless doll corpse wrapped neatly in the blanket, he threw it over his shoulder like a Santa sack and quietly headed for the window again. It reminded him of kidnapping the octopus, though at least there was no chance of something else actually dying like poor what's-its-face had. He exited the window as swiftly and quietly as he'd entered it, keeping as much to the shadows as he could as he slithered away from the upper class neighborhood and began to head back to his own abode. His plan had been to store wee baby Emil in his space in the batcave until he was ready to use what was left for more fun, and wait to watch the chaos unfold in the meantime. Now that he was thinking about it, however, that wasn't really in character. Sure, a psychopath might find some nook or cranny to hide his dirty deeds in, away from the eyes of the rest of the compound, but the batcave had been given to them. Despite the fact that he'd been using the areas assets to his advantage to spy on people, it felt like poor sportsmanship to depend on it for everything.
With that in mind, he changed his trajectory and headed for the greenhouse, sticking to the shadows and ducking and waiting at even the smallest sound. The greenhouse was locked at night, because who would want all Them Horrible Minorities getting to the goods with the current price hike. The tools he had now weren't even as good as the ones he had back at the mansion, not having had time to alter them properly. Picking the lock took a little more time than he'd wanted, but he managed to get the door open and slink inside.
Heading toward the freshest plants, which had the darkest, loosest and still relatively disturbed soil, he crouched in the shadows and began pulling the baby doll apart. Two arms and a leg were each neatly deposited into the bottoms of separate pots, while the torso and head were burrowed deep into some of the ground soil in the fresher patches on the the floor. Eventually something would be found, he was sure, and that made him feel more giddy than anything. The last leg and the blanket were things he felt were better stored in the batcave, a happy medium rather than depending on the ExB sanctuary solely. He spent a good amount of time covering his own tracks, cleaning up any traces of misplaced soil or footprints, and remembering to lock the door behind him when he finally left to return home.