[IC] .:: Crime & Devilry ::.

[c3p-0h]

Welcome to the city of Yeojin...

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It was a rainy night in Yeojin. The raindrops smacked and reverberated against the pavement, the rooftops, the thin umbrellas, the soaked cloth of hoodies pulled tight overhead; layers and layers of the rain's music filled the air with whitenoise. It was punctuated by the city sounds of cars, horns, and footsteps, as dancing languages that flowed between the clank and clamour of urban life. Even at night, the city was bright and loud, alive in every way you could count.

A traveler stepped out onto the sidewalk, emerging from the subway tunnel. She paused before stepping out into the rain. She could hear the slight halting of the footsteps behind her, the low gasps and grumbles as people caught themselves before walking into her and course-corrected.

She looked up, her face stained by the city's neon lights.

She was exceptionally tall for a woman, cutting a slender silhouette made up of long limbs and gentle curves. Dressed in over-priced designer clothes, she seemed like any young, affluent, urban woman with too few cares and too much time to spare.

A man roughly knocked against her, pushing past her to exit the tunnel as obnoxiously as he could. The woman's sharp eyes locked onto the back of his head, following him as he trudged through the rain.

The corner of her mouth quirked up.

Opening a clear umbrella that she'd picked up in the subway, the woman stepped out from under the awning and into the city. Rain drummed against the thin plastic as she joined the city folk hurrying in the rain. She passed a homeless lump huddled on the steps of some abandoned shop and tossed a wallet at it -- the wallet that'd belonged to the man who'd so rudely shoved into her.

She continued walking, weaving through soaked pedestrians as she made her way further and further into the city. She didn't have a destination -- she'd never even been to Yeojin before.

She was hungry.

She slipped into the next restaurant she came across, a bustling fast-food joint. She closed her umbrella without bothering to shake it off and slid between patrons. It was loud and bright in the restaurant, competing sounds and smells warring with each other under the bright flourescent lights. The woman pushed her way towards the front of the restaurant, grabbing a discarded receipt off of a table as she passed.

"Order for Frank!" one of the girls behind the counter called out, dropping a paper bag and a cup on the counter.

The woman reached the counter and skewered the receipt on the small metal pole, laden with previous receipts. Smiling at the girl (and trusting her to be too busy to inspect the paper she'd been given) she grabbed the bag and cup before turning and making her way back to the door.

A man stepped into her path.

"Hey, uh --" he paused as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "I'm sorry, but was that order for Frank?"

The woman opened her mouth to respond. She was cut off though by the sound of the worker calling out behind her, "Frank? Order for Frank?"

The man looked up, surprised. He looked back down at the woman and the bag in her hand. She'd started sipping from the cup's straw, a chocolate milkshake making its way to her lips. Her eyebrow raised.

"Uh, sorry, my bad."

She winked at him and the two stepped around each other, one moving towards the counter, and the other towards the door. A smile pulled at the woman's mouth as she hurried out of the restaurant -- best make herself scarce before he realized the worker had never called out at all.

Frank. It would do. She could be Frank. Frankie, maybe?

Frankie popped open her umbrella again as she moved back onto the streets of Yeojin.

Time to see what fun could be had.

[Red7VII]

Jason Locke

"Jason."

The voice was like soft bells chiming. Everything was soft and warm. He didn't want to move.

"Jason!"

It was getting louder, closer. He began to feel pressure. Something was wrong.

"JASON! He's here! You've got to go!"

Jason's eyes bolted open. He found himself staring at a young woman's face with a ceiling fan orbiting in the background. He sat up, his heart beginning to pound quickly as he surveyed the area, trying to recall what mess he just got himself into. He found himself on a bed in the corner of a small white room, his clothes laying in a pile on the floor, a young woman clad in panties and an oversized shirt standing there with a look of panic on her face. She looked familiar, but her name was escaping his memory. As he was putting this all together, he replayed the last words she said in his mind. He's here... Oh shit! He's here! Jason didn't even know who He was, but when a girl wakes you up and announced that, you really only need one guess.

Jason pushed himself off the bed and started trying to put on his clothes as quickly as possible. He shoved his stubbly face through the neck of his t-shirt before hopping on one leg, trying to get his pants on. He wasn't remarkably tall, but no one would accuse him of being very short, either. He was built enough that he could throw a good punch, but he was in no shape to be a street fighter. Confrontations with boyfriends was something to be avoided entirely.

As he got his legs situated, he heard stomping coming from the other side of the bedroom door. He was coming. Jason looked around for means of escape. There was one window by the bed, but he remembered needing to take an elevator to get here. He was going to have to learn to fly for that to be a viable option. There was a closet, but that hiding place never worked out. He looked back to the bedroom door and could see the shadows of feet coming through the bottom.

Out of time and options, Jason threw himself to the wall just behind the door as the knob turned and it opened up. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, hidden by the door itself as the man entered the room. The girl, Justine... Jennifer... something with a J... She greeted the man with dramatic excitement, using skills that befitting a seasoned thespian to keep her significant other distracted. As Jason edged around the door, about to make a dash for it, he realized his shoes were still at the foot of the bed. He ran both hands through his short cropped brown hair as he tried to figure out the move here.

"How was work, baby?" Jolene... Jessica....? asked. The big lug sauntered over to her and gave a hug. She tried to hold him in longer than what was typical, keeping his back to Jason as she watched him, shooting figurative lasers from her eyes, hoping he would take the hint and leave while she had her man distracted, but he couldn't just abandon his shoes. They were his only pair. With a look of panic, he pointed at them, giving off an exaggerated worried face to try and wordlessly explain the predicament. Julie's face went red, her demeanor rigid as she silently snarled and pointed with her head toward the door.

The boyfriend pulled away from the hug. "Same shit, different day. How about you," he asked Jane as he took a step back and stretched. Jason was out of options and nearly out of time. A sudden sense of composure fell over him. He reached out with his hand toward the shoes and extended his will. At first, the shoelaces themselves gave a little wiggle. Jason closed his hand into a fist, took a slow, quiet breath, and tried again.

Jason had some power in him. It was untrained, unrefined, and ultimately wasted on him, but he had it. With a second, more focused attempt, he tried to pull the shoes toward him, hoping they would move without catching Boyfriend's eye.

"Oh, just another day," Jasmine said, a nervous tone in her voice. Finally, Jason just forced the command. PULL! Immediately, both shoes went airborne, speeding in his direction to the point that he got nervous and ducked. With twin THUNKs, the two shoes embedded themselves into the apartment drywall just behind him. Jason looked on in horror as Boyfriend turned around looking livid as his eyes fell upon this barefooted intruder.

"Joy, what the fuck is this?!" JOY! That was it! Jason had to make a move. He turned around, pulled the shoes from the wall, taking them both in one hand while the other was pointed, palm out, at the boyfriend. More precisely, the boyfriend's junk.

PUSH came the command of will. What was once a look of anger on the boyfriend's face became a visage of concern and fright as Jason's spell took effect. The boyfriend's knees went weak and he erupted with gasps and labored coughs. Jason quickly gave Joy a two finger solute before dashing out of the room and quickly out of the apartment. His feet slapped on the tiled ground as he made his way to the elevator, pressing the call button mercilessly until the doors finally separated and allowed him access. Once inside, he performed the same feat on the botton that made the doors close back up. As soon as he felt the elevator move, he sighed deeply with relief and began putting on his shoes.

The night was young and this was just the start. He'd have to call Eric soon. Jason had already taken care of his pleasure, it was time to take care of his business. Hopefully his handler had a job for him. With his shoes laced, Jason stood tall as the elevator doors opened up to the apartment lobby where the urban nightlife could be seen out the glass windows and double-doors ahead. Jason thought to himself, I love this city.

[c3p-0h]

Frankie

Frankie licked her fingers, tossing the empty paper bag in a trashcan as she walked down the sidewalk. The rain had let up, and the umbrella hung from her slender wrist. Over the past fifteen minutes she'd made her way through the city, turning around corners on a whim, taking in the sights and sounds of Yeojin. Her fingers went up to her necklace, an iron chain with a large white pearl dangling from it. She toyed with the pearl in her fingers, warm and smooth. It was an active metropolis, diverse though still segregated it seemed -- though that wasn't noteworthy. Frankie was apparently in one of the older commercial districts. The population here seemed to be almost entirely human, though she'd passed a dwarf who'd looked terribly out of place. She was on an emptier street now, free of the people that seemed to litter everywhere else in this city. Frankie looked through the windows of brightly lit shops as she meandered, for now content to --

She froze. Her eyes locked on to a familiar symbol: a circular crest of a butterfly, wings outstretched. Above it was an inclomplete circle, representing the moon. Frankie stepped to the shop window, fingers grazing the glass. The crest was gleaming brass, old but clearly cared for. It adorned the hilt of a tanto in a simple black lacquered sheath wih a red tie.

Frankie hadn't seen that crest since...

Well.

Th corner of her mouth quirked up, her eyes bright. Steping back, Frankie looked up at the shop's sign. Sparrow's Antiques. The window was cluttered with various other bobbles, a music box, a terrifying porcelain doll, shining jewelry... but Frankie only had eyes for the dagger, tucked to the side.

The light was still on in the shop. A stooped old man was inside, cleaning up for the night and counting his money. Frankie moved to the door. Finding it locked, she started knocking. The man looked up and made a disgruntled expression. He waved her away before turning back to his money.

Frankie's eyes narrowed. She started knocking again, the sound inside the shop louder and more incessant than it'd been before. The man's eyes snapped up to her, looking affronted.

Frankie smiled sweetly. She pointed down at the doorknob.

The man gave a great heaving sigh and rolled his eyes. Placing his money back below the counter, shuffled through the shop towards the door. Frankie's smile grew as she heard the lock click free and the man pulled the door open.

"We're--"

There was a great crash in the back of the shop, through the doorway that Frankie assumed was storage. The man's eyes went wide.

"Damn it!" he cursed, slamming the front door shut and turning to hurry to the site of the crash. Frankie brought a hand up to stop the door just before it closed. She waited until the old man was out of sight before slipping through the doorway. She moved to the window, grabbed the tanto, and stuffed the much larger umbrella in its place.

The old man's confused muttering drifted through the shop. Frankie looked over her shoulder with a smirk. He moved faster on those old legs than she'd expected. Seemed he already realized there was no crash.

Frankie slipped back out the door, closing it behind her and started walking down the street again. She held the tanto up, admiring the way the city lights played on the shining black sheath. She looked at the crest again. He would've absolutely hated that she had this. With her other hand she grabbed the hilt and pulled the blade an inch free of its sheath. The dagger's metal gleamed at her, the hint of some etching on the blade just below the sheath. Frankie pushed it closed again.

Content with herself, she lowered the tanto and continued her exploration of the city.

[Red7VII]

Jason Locke

"You'll won't be able to hit the target head on," Eric explained. With dark brown hair that flowed to his shoulders and a scruffy beard that decorated his face, Eric looked like a tall, slender patchouli aficionado. Dressed in dark jeans and a buttoned up collared maroon shirt, he was a fairly unintimidating individual but his reputation certainly preceded him. He dealt with the all sorts of the city's scum and they all respected him as being an untouchable source of income. If there was a job, he was the one who made it happen and also the one who picked the team to do it.

His blue spectacled eyes looked intently at a short, plump man who could easily be mistaken for a human hedgehog. The latter had enough body hair that outer clothing was strictly worn out of societal expectations. He could survive the winter in his birthday suit without issue. The two of them were looking at a collection of pictures that were scattered over the felt of an unused pool table in the middle of a dark, hazy bar where there were no walk-in patrons. The Alibi was a bar for Yeojin's seedy individuals, providing a place for them to network and consort. "The glass is going to make it one of the toughest grabs anyone has ever been tasked with pulling."

"What glass?" Jason entered the room in a half jog, raising two fingers to the bartender across the room, greeting her. "What did I miss?" Eric looked up to the young man, his face looking stern. The furball with him grimaced as Jason approached, clearly not happy to see him. Jason's approach slowed to a walk and eventually halted completely as he scanned the table and glimpsed over all the pictures, his eyes zoning in on one of a decorative hour glass. "What's that?"

"You missed your deadline," Eric answered, annoyance in his voice. "And that is no longer any of your business. I don't work with amateurs and if you can't even get to a briefing on time, why would I trust you with a job of this caliber? You snooze, you lose, Locke. I'll call you when I get something else." The corner of Furball's mouth raised into a crooked smile as he clearly relished in Jason's humiliation. Eric turned his attention back to him and placed a burner phone on the table. "Wait for my call and we'll hit the finer details," he continued, ignoring Jason's presence completely.

"C'mon, man, I got hung up. What's the job? You're not seriously going to pick the Tasmanian Devil over me, are you?" Jason looked at Eric with a sense of confusion and slight disbelief, nearly scoffing at the possibility. Eric's eyes were answer enough; he shot Jason a look that wordlessly said You fucked up and this is what happens. After a beat, Jason switched tactics. "Eric, you know I need the money, bud, and you know I'm equipped to do the job better than this asshole... (No offense)." At that, Furball took a leading step, his mouth curled in a snarl as he looked nearly ready to swing on him. Before it could get much further, Eric placed his hand on Furball's chest, calling for him to cease.

"Locke, you're probably right," Eric digressed before giving Furball a crooked shrug, "But this operation needs to be executed meticulously and-"

"Okay, great!" Jason shouted with glee as he extended his palm toward the burner phone on the table. With a force of will, the phone leapt from the felt and into his hand... and then out of his hand... and then bobbled in the air as Jason performed an awkward, clumsy juggling act in his efforts to catch and secure the device. Finally, he managed to wrap his fingers around it. He held it up with glee as if it were a trophy. "Call me with the details!" Eric just looked on, finding himself impressed, dumbfounded and embarrassed all at the same time. Jason gave one more wave to the bartender before jogging back out toward the exit, jumping into the air and clicking his heels before shoving past the front door and into the street.

Furball slowly turned his head to look at Eric, who could only give another shrug. "Go magic that phone back out of his hand and we'll talk," was all the consolation he was willing to give as he walked back toward the bar. Though he'd never let Jason see it, he couldn't help but smirk.

[c3p-0h]

Frankie

It didn't take much wandering for Frankie to find herself on the brighter, richer, funner side of Yeojin. Neon lights flashed and enticed towards bars, restaurants, galleries... there was the smell of searing meat and crushed herbs, gasoline and drying rain on the pavement, perfumes and collognes on every over-dressed person she passed...

But the sounds -- Frankie could lose herself in a city as loud and layered as this. Hundreds of voices laughing, shouting, demanding attention, the satisfying hum of cars with too many cylinders, pavement crunching under their wheels, the clink of jewelry, the swish of clothes, music pounding from every other building, the sizzle of cooking food, and clank and clatter of silverwear against ceramic dishes...

Frankie couldn't help the smile on her face, her pupils blown wide with glee. Energy hummed under her skin, through her blood and bones. She wanted to play.

There was a crowd of people lined up in front of a building half a block away, with a twin mob on the other side of the street in front of the building directly across from it. Frankie'd passed a number of groups on the sidewalk, waiting to get into this club or that. She paused though as she drew closer. She looked up at one of the buildings they were gathered before. It was tall -- at least fifty stories high, with pulsing neon lights, flashing blue then pink then purple then orange then back again, coming from the top floor and the roof. The glass bottom of a pool jutted out over the street, connecting and continuing over to the roof of the building across from it where the party seemed to continue. Daredevil swimmers -- the majority of them slender women with long hair and tiny bathingsuits -- swam over the street between the two rooftops.

It wasn't this display of decadence that caught Frankie's attention, though. It was the soft hum of magic. Even far away on the ground, Frankie could hear it, unmistakable in its gentle music. Her grip tightened around the tanto in her grip, knuckles turning white. Her smile turned sly.

Frankie made her way towards one of the crowds. There were two bouncers, large men with earpieces and three-piece suits, standing between the crowd and the glass doubledoors of the building. One stood watch, checking people in and nodding them forward, while the other instructed hopeful partygoers to raise their arms as he waved a security wand over their bodies. Frankie stood to the side of the line (really more of an organized mob than a proper line) taking in the crowd and the bouncers with sharp eyes. Her gaze fell on a woman near the middle of the mass, wearing high stilletto heels, too much eye glitter, and a high, sleek ponytail at the top of her head. Long plastic nails tapped impatiently against her thigh as she rolled her eyes and shifted her weight from one foor to the other. There was another woman in front of her, equally made up with luscious barrel curls and a dress that barely covered her body. Her eyes were glazed over with boredom as she looked down at her phone and swiped at the screen.

"...If this ho would just move up and give me some damn breathing room," came a muttered voice between them. The woman with the curls froze and whipped her head around so quick her hair bounced against the heads of the people around her.

"What did you just call me?" she spat at Ponytail.

Ponytail instinctively flinched back before narrowing her eyes. "You better check your tone with me because I didn't say nothing."

Frankie smirked as she made her way forwards to the door, the argument between the two women quickly growing louder and more heated. People turned their attention to the women, people trying to get involved and break them up, or stepping in for one or the other's honor. A few more voices, a few more biting words, and soon enough it was a full blown scene. The bouncers straightened up, one staying at the door as the other lumbered forward to try and break it up. Frankie walked in an arc towards him, out of the doorman's line of focus as he watched the mob. She drew closer.

The bouncer's earpiece all but exploded with feedback, the dull sound of whitenoise fed into his eardrum increasing exponentially. He doubled over, flinching in vain at the sound as he let out a sharp cry of surprise. His thick fingers fumbled at the earpiece, trying to dig it out. His eyes squeezed shut at the pain.

Frankie slipped by him, through the door.

The commotion behind her grew muted through the glass and Frankie walked through the brightly lit lobby, her heels giving a satisfying clack against the white marble floor that reverberated through the building. The magic was louder here. Frankie walked forward, towards a set of elevators, one of them already open with a man in a sharp crimson uniform already standing inside. Clearly, they had money to burn.

"To the party, miss?" he said in a crisp voice. She smiled at him as she stepped into the elevator.