2007-07-31: Big. Mistake.


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Summary: Yeah, but who is making it? Two people are after the same thing and only one can come out on top.

Dark Future Date: July 31st, 2009

Log Title Big. Mistake.

Location The Office Building - Somewhere In NYC

The streets and buildings of New York City are mostly cracked and destroyed. However, there is one or two streets spared some damage, the buildings having either been built up in the interim or kept free of damage in the first place. One of these is an inconspicuous looking facade. Steel and glass all the way up however many floors. On one of those higher floors, a door remains ajar. Everything else in the hallways seems normal other than a few specks and streaks of blood on the floor leading to that door. Inside, shows a different story. Bodies of guards, all dressed in uniform are strewn about. All have been shot with exact aim, all in the same place - center mass, as if no matter where the guards stood, the shooter knew exactly where they were. A large landscape painting hangs open and a young teenage girl with short blonde hair stands keying open the safe. It's so high up and she's still short enough that she needs to stand on a chair in order to reach it. Almost out of nowhere, she raises her gun and points it behind her. She doesn't even look back.

Blood. Broken glass. The occasional empty clip or handful of shell casings. These are signs that someone beat Jack Derex to his objective. Someone got here first, and he doesn't like that one bit. He ducks into an unoccupied office space and rubs his gloved hands together, readying himself and gathering his will. The corded muscles and veins stand out at the sides of his neck and he lets out a grunt as he waves both arms, relocating an enormously bulky assault rife into his grip. It has two saperate clips and barrels. It looks like nothing so much as a cross between a nightmare and a Nerf gun. After ensuring that it's properly locked and loaded, he shoulders the weapon into a ready position and continues stalking through the building in search of his competition. "I'm coming for you…" he whispers to himself, his gravely voice a low, mean mockery of singsong. "I'ma find you, an' when I do, I'ma…" BAM! He kicks in the door to a large, lavish office. "What the shit? What are you, like… ten?" His head bobs and weaves back and forth, but no matter how mobile he tries to be, the barrel of the gun tracks every movement. "Shit!"

"Does it make you feel like less of a man? Being beaten to the prize by a little girl?" Molly doesn't even turn around. There's the faint sound of something pinging, probably the code. "Is it because I'm blonde? That seems to make some boys uncomfortable. There's this stigma against blondes." The gun continues to follow Jack around. She doesn't even spare him another look. "I'd put down whatever that thing is. Not only would I shoot you before you even thought about pulling the trigger, it's ugly and I don't like it." A soft clicking sound and the safe is unlocked. She didn't even miss a number. It's like she knew it all along.

"No! Sexism is bad. What… You're… Shit!" Frustrated, Jack tucks his legs and springs several feet to one side. When the girl tracks his location like an expert skeet shooter, he lets out a throaty, displeased growl. "Fine. You win. Bernice isn't ugly, though. She's cute. What's wrong? You got somethin' against fat girls?" The Irishman's eyes narrow as he manuvers the two-barred weapon around behind his back and lets it hang from it's canvas sling. He holds both gloved hands up with his palms unassumingly facing his tiny competitor. Empty.

"No no, of course not, they're much easier to hunt down. Harder for them to run." Jack's frustration only further amuses Molly and she actually laughs at his swearing. "Oh, you are too much fun. I didn't think you'd be fun." Finally, she spares him a glance over her shoulder. Nothing lingering, just enough to show her impish grin and bright blue eyes. Then, she pushes open the safe and pulls out a strangely empty seeming bag. There's something heavy at the bottom of it, though, that makes a strange shape in the fabric. Finally she turns around and kicks the door shut with her foot. The gun finally held out in front of her the proper way. "Now. What to do with you, Mister Shepherd Man. Hmmmmm. That's always the question. Clean up. I do hate to leave a messy room. I was brought up with manners and they're hard to let go of."

Jack's breath catches and rattles in his throat. Shepherd Man? He gulps and holds his hands up higher, consciously changing his position from potentially threatening to completely unassuming. "Who the hell are you?" he queries incredulously. His eyes linger on the package. He wants that package. He wants it very, very badly. More than that, he wants to know that he hasn't unknowingly compromised the members of his crew in some way. Reluctantly, he tears his eyes away from the parcel. "And how the hell do you know who I am? That's not a name a lot of people have heard."

Molly saw that. And she likes it. Grinning, she hops down from her chair and bounces a little. It's like a little girl who got something she really wanted for her birthday. "I'm no one, really. I just happen to know people. Powerful people." Lots of them. When she notices how intent Jack is about the bag, she holds it up and swings it a little, mockingly. "Eyes on the prize? Can't say I blame you. More than a few people want this little beauty." Swinging it around in a circle, she laughs. Let's hope it's not delicate. "I know a lot of things. But, most of all, I make it my business to know where everyone is and why they're there. Like, you, for instance, Mr. Derex. Mr. Jack. Jackie. Can I call you Jackie? It makes me feel like I've known you all my life. You could be that crazy uncle everyone's supposed to have that gives me what my parents won't let me get."

Uncle Jack? That's cool. Jack can do that. It's a familiar role for him. Still, his eyes follow the sack as the girl swings it in a lazy circle. "Don't—" Unable to help himself, he reaches out ineffectively from across the room. He could use his ability to take it away from her. She could also shoot him and take it back. "Goody gumdrops," he murmurs. "Sure, kiddo. You can call me Uncle Jackie." The freedom fighter's voice is rough, but held carefully emotionless. "Just be careful with that, okay? Tell you wot… Why don't you tell me what you want, and I'll get it for you just like I was your real uncle. Maybe we could make a trade? I'm very good at finding things. After that, you could put the gun down and we could be friends again."

"Oooh. A trade. A trade sounds like fun. I like knowing what people value more." Waggling her eyebrows at Jack, Molly tosses the bag up into the air and then catches it. One handed. Just to see how he reacts. His already furtive attempt to stop her playing with it obviously made no difference to her. In fact, it made her the more playful. Keeping her distance, she just sits down in the chair she had wheeled over before and crosses her legs elegantly. "What would I want for this? That /is/ the question. I know." She smiles coyly. "Your first born child." Immediately, she interrupts herself. "Nah. You don't seem like the man with the babies. I can do it one better then. A playdate with your ladyfriend. What was her name? It was a weird one. Trina. Yeeees. Trina. We'd have some fun times, Aunt Trina and me."

"Big. Mistake." With a snap of his fingers, Jack relocates Molly's gun from her hand to his. Yes, she's a child. Yes, she's a girl. Yes, Jack is advancing on her with a very angry look in his eye. "I've been doing this longer than you, so let me give you some advice. Always leave family out of things. You add family to the equation, you never know how people might react. Now give me the fuckin' bag."

Giggling, Molly stands up and tosses the bag at Jack roughly. "Oh, you did /not/ disappoint me, Jack Derex. You're going to be a fun one to watch." Because now she knows his face and how he moves it will be much easier to track him. Using the time it takes him to get the bag, even if he relocates it, she dashes out the door. The bag holds nothing but a huge piece of cement from outside. "I'll be seeing you!" the girl's voice echoes down the hallway.

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