I, Chimera: Appearances Are So Deceiving


vette_icon.jpg scrivner_icon.jpg

Scene Title I, Chimera: Appearances Are So Deceiving
Synopsis Scrivner and Vette go hunting for the infamous Louie in the streets of the Bronx. They have probably bitten off more than they can chew. Shou was the storyteller for this scene.

The Bronx

It's loud, it's dangerous, and it's dark.

The night air is cold and crisp. Autumn's well and truly in full swing here, and that means Rufus can pull out his black leather trench coat. For once he's forsaken his business suit. The man's learning. Every time he goes out on these excursions, his clothes end up shredded. So now he's just wearing blue jeans and a tee shirt. Walking down a street in the Bronx at night, searching for this dealer named Louie, is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Rufus is well aware of it. He's also well aware that the guy likely knows they're looking for him, and he'll either show up to have a little "chat," or he'll avoid them and they'll never catch up to him. Still, Rufus figures, they have to try. As he walks beneath the glow of a streetlamp, he quietly tells his companion lady, "So, I caught up to Dee at the Java House earlier this afternoon."

"Did she have anything interesting?" In jeans, a heavy jean jacket and a white t-shirt, Vette doesn't look much differently dressed than Rufus. Her hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail and she's got on soft running sneakers. She is letting Rufus choose where to walk, primarily because he's alert, and she's not good at alert.

The Bronx is as it usually is. Loud, dark, and dangerous. People watch the couple pass, some with envious glances, others with more suspicious eyes. There are several groups that look typical of the kind of people that might know where this 'Louie' is.

Most of the people Rufus passes by. Slowly, though, he winds his arm around Vette's shoulders, all too keenly aware that there are glances often being cast their way. Right now, he's on high alert, and even as he talks he watches the shadows and the ruffians. "Somewhat," he says quietly. "She says that the problem isn't occurring in New York City alone. She couldn't tell me how widespread it is, but it's not of a global proportion yet. I suspect it may be throughout the state. There's no electronic trail. Transactions are all kept as hard-copy. There's tainted ichor in it too." Eyeing one group that /might/ fit the stereotype for what he's looking for, he comes to a stop some distance away and contemplates his strategy of approach.

Vette's eyes widen slightly to hear that, but as Rufus stops she stops too. She falls silent, waiting. She doesn't ask anymore questions lest someone hear who is not supposed to and she gives something away by chance that she did not mean to.

The group in question is made up of two large Hispanic guys, a slim, bucktoothed white girl, and a large black guy with a bull-ring on his nose. The bucktoothed girl slides back at Scrivner and Vette approach.

Here goes nothing. Rufus very gently pushes Vette back a little, to make her walk somewhat behind him and off to one side. Then he approaches, his steps calm and casual, head held high like he's meant to be here. "Good evening," he calls out. "Sorry to bother you chaps, but I'm looking for a man named Louie. Known to work with certain …. pharmaceuticals." His gaze sweeps over all in turn, but focuses for a moment on the shying buck-toothed girl.

Vette settles into a guard stance, using the shielding of Rufus' body to conceal the fact that she's ready to pull her gun at any second if things turn at all nasty.

Rufus' intent question of the girl has the guys all standing up to snarl at him. "Hey," the bull-ringed black man says with a snarl. "Back off. You ain't welcome here." He rolls his shoulders back and bares his teeth at Scrivner. The other two guys stand up, too, and one of them even pops a switchblade from his pocket.

Behind them, the girl just tips her head at Rufus and grins a bucktoothed smile at him. She shakes off whatever he was trying to do to her, and starts walking away, with the three guys standing in the way.

Yeah, yeah, his blade is much bigger than theirs. Rufus resists the temptation to whip it out. He holds up his hands, however, and he backs off a single step. "It was just a question, gentlemen," he says mildly, though his eyes are following the girl as she walks away. He'd rather /not/ involve the men if he can avoid it, so he looks past the girl instead, trying to gain some idea of where she's walking and if he can find an alternate route there.

Vette doesn't realize that Scrivner's trying to figure out where she's going. Instead, a flash of anger fuels her as she suddenly twirls like the dancer she is, zips around the group, and snaps out her leg in a dance move that just happens to be aimed for the back of the buck toothed girl's knees, with full intent of knocking her on her butt and back to the ground.

The girl's reaction is typical of someone that's surprised. She buckles and falls, hitting the floor with her knees. She hisses out, and rolls forward, something flashing from inside her coat. She pops it into her mouth, and smiles.Rufus doesn't even have /time/ to see what's happening before the other three guys are also popping pills into their mouths.

What happens next is monstruous. Literally. The girl's jeans rip as a tail sprouts out and her teeth grow longer, sharper, and her nose elongates, and her hair grows into fur and turns a matted black. Her pink tail swishes as she looks back at Yvette with beady black rat eyes. As for the guys: the one with the bull-ring rips through his shoes as his feet become hooves and his face morphs into something bull-like. He slams a fist into his open palm, grinning at Rufus as the horns rise from just above his ears, pointed and lethal. The Hispanic guys both shimmy back and burst into an explosion of fur, fang and claw, growing snouts, ears, and the acquiring the ferocity of wolves.

A ratgirl, a minotaur, and two werewolves. Don't you just love New York?

"Oh… Bloody fucking Hell," Rufus breathes, staring at these little mortals popping their happy pills. And he /can't kill them./ In the span of a heartbeat the ichor in his blood wells up to coat his skin, giving it a finish not entirely unlike pewter. He steps back another few paces, and clearing his throat, he states, still sounding ever so mild and prim and English. "Gentlemen, you may wish to rethink the course of your action, as I only want to /talk./ And I can, as you local Yanks say, fuck your shit right up." Then he settles into a stance, taking up a guarding, defensive position.

Both the Ratgirl and the Minotaur react first. The Ratgirl sidles towards Vette, launching a vicious bite attack at the redhead's thigh, but Yvette's ichor-fuled defenses are too fast for her to get a decent shot in, though it came very close. As for Rufus, well, he gets decked in the face by a rather angry looking Minotaur. Fortunately, his ichor-infused skin is too tough for the blow to have much effect.

Vette plunges her hands down onto the concrete and liquifies it with the power of her earth shaping. For a moment it seems like she's thrusting her hands into it. Then she raises them up, holding slithering snakes of greasy liquified stone. Contemptuously, she flicks them, sending them winding around and around the monster-girl's thighs. "We said," she says coldly, "That we had questions."

As Yvette pours her shaping over Ratgirl's thighs, the two werewolves launch themselves at Rufus. One of them is unsuccessful at slicing through the Englishman's thigh, his claws swooshing through the air nearby; but the other leaps over Scrivner and digs his claws against the Aesir-child's shoulder, drawing blood.

As Yvette pours her shaping over Ratgirl's thighs, the two werewolves launch themselves at Rufus. One of them is unsuccessful at slicing through the Englishman's thigh, his claws swooshing through the air nearby; but the other leaps over Scrivner and digs his claws against the Aesir-child's shoulder, though it has no effect.

When the men come rushing at him, Scrivner bows his head and takes the onslaught with only a gritting of his teeth. Then he looks up, eyes narrowed, and he barks a sharp, contemptuous laugh. "Is that all? I felt something, but it was like, 'So what?'" His eyes flicker to Vette, noting what she's doing in an instant, and he decides the best thing he can do is keep the men busy so she can work on the next sodding bastard. Moving quickly, he suddenly lashes out at the nearest man, spinning on the ball of his left foot and lashing out with a hard kick, aiming at the Minotaur's right knee. But he might as well have just playfully nudged him for all the good it does.

Ratgirl hisses when Yvette imprisons her, and lashes out with a vicious swipe of her claw. It doesn't land, fortunately, as Yvette is much too quick for the girl's attempt. Scrivner is not so lucky. The Minotaur snatches his leg after the ineffective kick, and lunges forward, one of the bull-horns ripping into Rufus' shoulder with surprising ease. Sometimes you're not as invulnerable as you think you are.

As Yvette traps one of the werewolves, it takes a swipe at her. She's too fast for him, but not his companion. Even though she suffers no harm from either attack, the second one draws long lines along the back of her shirt, ripping it over. That bastard!

Vette has rolled away from snake girl, but she plunges her hands right back into the concrete. Again those liquified snakes reach out, wrapping around his thigh and his waist to trap him before solidifying again. "Bad dog, no biscuit," she sneers.

Rule Number One with Rufus Scrivner. Don't touch his girl. When he catches sight of a werewolf ripping down the back of her shirt, even though she doesn't appear to have been hurt by it, his rage flares and breaks through the crust of self-conrol. In less than a second that gash across his shoulder knits itself back together, not completely, but enough that it's no longer enough to slow down the man any. He turns his eyes upon that werewolf and stalks after him, lifting his sword. "You son of a /bitch!/" he snarls. Then he brings the blade slashing down in a broad arc, aiming for the werewolf's chest.

As the sword digs into the werewolf's shoulder, a voice rages over the alley. "ENOUGH!" It's a thundering, booming sound. It stops the hybrids in their tracks as they all turn to look at the source: a stout, chubby-looking man in his twenties, in a pair of flip-flops, baggy shorts, and a hawaiian t-shirt. "I need better minions," he adds in more of a mutter.

Vette keeps one hand on the concrete, staring daggers at this fellow. Clearly she's ready to keep right on going, but she glances at Rufus. That one is his call; she'll only hold her action so long as Rufus thinks it's a good idea. If it's not, she's happy to continue turning them all into street sculpture.

The call snaps him out of his rising bloodlust, and Rufus backs off a step, then strides quickly over to Vette. The remainder of the gash heals upon his shoulder, leaving his skin whole and unbroken. When at her side he spins around to face the newcomer, tilting his chin slightly upwards with contempt so ingrained he doesn't even need to think about it. "The infamous Louie, I presume," he states.

"Infamous?" Presumably Louie raises a brow and chuckles. "I guess that's me. You must be Mr. Scrivner and Ms. Adams." He makes a motion to the Minotaur and the unhindered werewolf, who immediately proceed to try and wrench their companions free from Yvette's sculpting.

Vette smiles faintly. It's concrete, and maybe he can, but she trusts it's going to give him something like trouble. She keeps her hand on the concrete, just hanging out there on one knee. She'll let Rufus talk to the bastard. If she talks right now she's liable to put a spike of concrete between the fellow's legs.

He doesn't let the metallic armour fade away, because he doesn't trust getting out of here without someone trying to shoot him in the back of the head. However, Rufus does let the sword's tip come to rest upon the ground, and he folds his hands one atop the other over the pommel. "One might suppose so," he evenly says. "Though I'm curious as to how you came to know our names."

Louie eyerolls a little. "Mr. Scrivner, do you really think that you could do the things you've done, interfere the way you have interfered, and investigated the way you have investigated, without my noticing?" Louie brushes his hands together softly. "I know all about you. You, and Ms. Adams, and your parents."

The Minotaur is /strong/. Concrete or not, after a few slams of his hooved feet, it gives way, anmd the Ratgirl and werewolves follow the Minotaur to stand behind Louie.

The smile fades into something like annoyance from Vette. She stands up and rests her hand on the grip of her Colt instead. She doesn't draw it, but she makes it clear she's ready to as she stands behind and to the right of Rufus, eyes glittering with barely restrained fury.

"Then I expect you'll know what I intend to do about you and your drug operation," Rufus calmly answers, though his fingers tap restlessly against the pommel of his sword, eager to take hold and start cutting up for real. "It will, however, go easier for you in the long run if you decide to cooperate and tell me where and how you got this Chimera and who /else/ has been assisting you."

Louie looks at Rufus and tips his head slowly. He presses his fingers together at the tips, and smiles at the Aesir-child. "Cute." He licks his lips, and then parts his arms, bringing them together with a sharp, sudden collision. The resulting effect is like being too close to a lightning strike; the thunder slams out from Louie's palms, tossing his minions behind him back into the alley wall, and tossing both Rufus and Yevette several yards backwards. Trashcans fly, bricks crack under the auditory pressure, and windows shriek into a million pieces.

Vette lets out a shriek of surprise as she goes flying backwards, and throws up her arms against flying debris. For a pudgy guy in a Hawaiian shirt he sure knows how to make an entrance. She lands with widened eyes and a little more worry than fury.

Rufus doesn't yelp, but he does go flying back to hit the ground hard, rolling with the momentum. Dazed for a second or two, he clutches at the hilt of his sword and gets up to all fours, then lifts his head and bares his teeth at the man down the alley. This is where someone more intelligent might /run./ Walk away and live to fight another day, yes? With his ears still ringing from that blast, he settles into a stance and brandishes the blade of his sword in challenge. "Well, now I'm not sure what the purpose of /that/ was, except to deafen me slightly."

"It's unfortunate that I had to step in and handle this. I was hoping that my underlings would be enough to deter you. Please take this piece of advice," Louie says, eyes narrowing dangerously at Yvette and Rufus: "Leave. Don't come back. Stay away from my business." He smiles, friendly like all of a sudden. "I have nothing against you. But I /will/ kill you if you don't back off."

"Uhh, Rufus?" Vette murmurs quietly as she comes to her feet. Maaaybe they ought to take the reprieve…and come back with back up. Lots and lots and LOTS of backup.

He doesn't lower his blade, but Vette will see the tension in his jaw that hints there's a great deal more emotion brewing beneath the surface than he's showing. His own eyes narrow, never wavering from the enemy across the alley. Scrivner doesn't answer straightaway as the urge to rush forward in mad, bellowing defiance wars with his redheaded Voice of Reason. It's the fear in Vette's murmuring that finally tips the scales, and he slowly sweeps up his sword to sheathe it in the scabbard across his back. "Understand," he snaps, "we will walk away tonight, but you have scarcely seen the last of me." Then he turns to Vette, reaching out his arms to her to scoop her up and then leap up several feet into the air. He intends to fly away from this confrontation, but he's watching Louie all the while.

Louie slowly tips his head back to watch them go, that disturbingly friendly smile still cocked on his face. He gives them a little finger wave, and then turns to his 'minions'. "Oh get /up/ you World of Darkness rejects, we need to figure out how to soup your transformations up."

Vette is still staring down as Rufus flies her away. She lets out a long breath. And wets her lips. Outnumbered and outgunned, for sure. Live to fight another day can be /her/ thing, she doesn't mind. She hugs Rufus tightly as he flies her the Hell /outta/ there.

Shou was the Storyteller for this scene.

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