2007-12-10: Give Me Everything You Have



NPCs portrayed by Serotonin

Summary: He demands everything she has. Jane gives it to him.

Date It Happened: December 10, 2007

Log Title Give Me Everything You Have

Greenwich Village, NYC, between Cutting Edge Recording Studios and the High Rise Apartment Building

It's the tenth day of December, and night has fallen on the city of New York. Her iPhone's display shows the time as 6:05. The streets in the area of Greenwich Village where she's walking now, on the way from the Cutting Room studio to her apartment building are sparse but not devoid of people. Ahead of her, also, are the entrances of several alleyways. She's a woman in her twenties, walking alone after dark in this city, but it doesn't seem to disturb her. She isn't wary of those dark place between buildings on her path.

One shoulder holds the guitar case, the other her backpack. Clothing is jeans, boots with two inch heels, and a not cheap winter coat. The iPhone's earbuds are in place, she's currently enjoying the sound of Simon and Garfunkel's Sound of Silence. That's what came up last on the shuffled contents.

The streets aren't quite empty. Across the street from Jane, shuffling along with the hood from a baggy sweater underneath a bulky coat disguising his face in shadow, is a man. It's cold out and his clandestine attire seems fairly unintentional; and for all intents and purposes, maybe it is. A good many paces behind the woman as he walks in the same direction as her, he's a distant parallel.

He, too, is unaware of the other man waiting in the alley ahead of Jane.

Closer and closer she gets, not aware of the man shadowing her across the street and not concerned about what may be in that alley up ahead, just half a block further. Her boots alert that man to her nearness, they tap on the pavement in the way that lets the perceptive know the source is female. Mere seconds later, less than thirty, and she's passing the entrance.

It's a complete coincidence that some random, desperate man slides along the grimy wall of the particular alley Jane walks past, his back to her, so that he can watch her. In a state of scruffy-faced disarray, with bloodshot eyes, the man, younger than the woman on the street by several years, rushes out behind her.

For the other man across the street, it couldn't be more opportune. Instead of doing anything to help what he sees coming before Jane does, the hooded fellow ducks into an alley himself and takes a handheld video camera out of his coat. It turns on, and Danny Ferrera's blue eyes zoom in on Jane.

Jane's would-be attacker lashes out for her arm, his hoarse voice insisting, "Don't scream, bitch." Little does he know! "Give me everything you have."

She's surprised by the arm which grabs at her and pulls her into the alley, her eyes widen, but when he speaks her jaw sets. She moves to yank her arm away from him and harshly retorts. "Give you everything, or what?" She's looking at him now, trying to see what if any kind of weapon he's got in the mix. Absent such a convincing possession, she doesn't seem at all inclined to do what he wants.

Rather than a gun, it's a knife that the man has buried in his pocket, long and wicked. He has a tight-handed grip on it when it's revealed and pointed at Jane's throat. "I said give me it."

* Rec. The red recording signal flashes as Danny spies on the encounter from across the way, eyes wide. He starts to sweat in the cold winter air. He has half a mind to call 911, but if this girl isn't normal… no, he keeps recording.

Her mouth opens when he displays the knife, and she draws in a long breath, the better to use for sonic effect when she lets it out in her defense. Something like this had happened once before, but that guy had used a broken bottle to threaten with. Now, she's practiced and worked at sharpening her ability, to make it into a concussive force when needed, or to cause disorientation. Her choices are simple: attack or surrender. Jane chooses attack.

The mouth opens as if she were screaming, but no sound emerges. She lets loose with a long assault at a pitch perhaps four octaves above high C.

The mugger's mouth is open too, to accost Jane for opening hers - he said not to scream, damnit. What happens next, he could never expect. He shoves at Jane, backing away — his knife clatters to the pavement when his hands start to clutch at his ears, his hair. His eyes shutting tight. "Ahhhhhhhhh!!" It becomes more clear that he didn't back away so much as he was forced back, and now he hits the wall, hard.

Danny frantically toys with the settings on the camera. More light! More sound! Zoom in closer! The recording feed shakes in his hands, but he only misses a few seconds of the action.

She's quick to seize the opportunity. Soon as he grabs his ears she's moving forward, that sound still being emitted, and goes to grab the knife. Jane's intention is to brandish it from a distance far enough away where he can't try to take it back; she stays out of his reach. The ultrasonic assault ceases when she feels the strain on her vocal chords, and at that point she speaks sharply. "Get up. Leave here and find a real fucking job. Try to rob anyone ever again, I'll come back and make you beg a cop to lock you away!"

She doesn't know if he can still hear her or not, she may well have shattered his eardrums, she had something to say and spoke her piece. Entirely oblivious to the man with the camera.

Even if his eardrums aren't shattered, the foiled mugger is not sticking around to have any sort of conversation with this chick. He's gone from desperate but confident criminal to a just a terrified man in pain who is completely disoriented in a matter of seconds. Looking up to stare at Jane in abject horror and confusion, he just takes off running down the alley. His ears are bleeding.

In light of the man's departure, the amateur videographer ducks further into his own alley, trying to hide in the shadows. The camera's viewing window is flipped shut, it's turned off and tucked away. Danny flattens against the wall and waits, taking stock of what he just witnessed.

Her features remain grim as she watches the man depart, staring at him and still brandishing his weapon until he's well and truly gone. Jane relaxes a bit then, and mulls over what just happened. "That was new. He actually fell back." But can she do it again without the effect of adrenaline from being in danger? Time to find out. Items are looked for in the alley near her, like discarded cans or bottles, things that won't shatter. It seems safe enough to practice here, she has no idea anyone is watching.

Once some plastic and metal targets are assembled, she faces them and draws in deep breath to use for the effort. Then her mouth opens and she lets loose at the same pitch and volume as before, to see if she can knock them over.

Though the impromptu practice goes unrecorded, Danny peeks out of the alley, pulling down his hood all the more and rubbing his hands together in the cold. He watches Jane, but can't see much — or hear much. Ultimately, he turns down the street, casting wary looks at the woman over his shoulder until she's out of sight.

It fails. She doesn't try again tonight, not wanting to strain her voice by repeated and extended screaming at that pitch, but she knows it's deep in there, somewhere. There shall be practice and eventual mastery, of this Jane is certain. The knife is kept, tucked into her backpack, and she walks away. Alleys are considered cautiously until she makes it home.

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