Post by Restless on Jul 20, 2018 20:21:12 GMT
Location: Seattle
Time: 2 A.M.
Objective: Perform a Crime
Difficulty: Easy
Pushing off of the curb, Vincent hurried through the throng of passersby, bumping shoulders with a man halfway across. His blazer was open, face flushed as he stared... almost at Vincent with a slight scowl and a drunken yell already escaping his lips. Raising his left hand in an apologetic manner, he fished inside of the stolen wallet, grasping the bills as he let the leather booklet fall from his right hand towards his waiting foot. It flew across the short distance between them, slapping against the man's slacks, catching his attention as Vincent pulled his black ball-cap further down over his face in a mock hat-doff. By the time the man looked up from his emptied and returned wallet, Vincent had pushed further ahead to vanish into the crowd.
It wasn't his first time lifting valuables, but the game always got his blood pumping anyways. Still, it was best to start small, so Vincent simply walked along the slowly quieting streets of Seattle. It was nowhere near lifeless, however - neon signs advertised everything from Chinese cuisine to casinos, strip clubs and bowling alleys. Mostly Chinese food and strip clubs. For some time he walked, peeking into windows that caught his attention, until street lamps were the only light sources available. By now, his attire had become less of a profile-obscurer than it was an attention-grabber, so Vincent pulled his hat off, folding it up and slipping it into his pocket as he rolled the jack-o'-lantern-print bandanna up to show only black and left it resting around his neck. Slowly, though, the number of people Vincent encountered diminished. When he saw the same patrolling cop a second time, Vincent waited for them to turn the corner directly ahead of him, and booked it as soon as the front window vanished.
After running eastward several blocks, Vincent reached the residential district, and took a deep breath as he ran straight at the fence, jumping and firing air from his calves, leaping the 9' fence in one motion, and coming to a rolling stop in the wet grass on the other side. With a deep sigh, he heaved himself up and looked around the yard. An old lawnmower, sagging from a wet holding bag but otherwise dry, sat in the middle of a sea of knee-high grass. With a shrug, Vincent turned to the back door as he pulled simple black gloves on and tried the handle, but while the handle turned, the door resisted. He tried it again, but it still didn't budge, so Vincent looked around for anything out of place, and his eyes came to rest on a medium-sized and small rock several feet away. Shaking his head in disappointment, Vincent retrieved the worn key from beneath the smaller rock and unlocked the deadbolt. Sniffling, Vincent replaced his bandanna and hat, breathing low and slow as he turned the handles and swung the door open.
The hinges squealed as the heavy wooden door opened inward, and Vincent winced as he stepped inside. After a few moments of silence, he was pretty sure nobody heard, and his eyes soon acclimated to the darker interior. Stepping lightly, he made his way further into the large house. The mudroom was connected by a short hallway that opened up into a decent-sized kitchen. Though with nothing worth carrying, Vincent headed into the den, and scoffed. A flat-screen TV the size of a refrigerator sat in the room, coated in dust. Squeezing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, Vincent groaned quietly, stepping to the side to leave the way he'd come in just in time to avoid a spray of shells rip through the space he'd just been occupying as it turned the TV into scrap metal and destroyed the walls behind it.
"Gah! Shit! Easy, old man!" Vincent shouted, throwing his hands up in surrender. Though he got no response, as the short old man turned his double-barrel onto Vincent. Inhaling sharply as his eyes widened, Vincent turned his hands to face left, and released a burst of air from both, throwing himself to the side in time to live to hear the pellets hit another wall. "All right, my turn," he muttered, grabbing a chair and rushing the man, pinning him down with the legs. Rather than struggle, he simply wheezed from the strain as he held the shotgun up defensively. He made a disgustingly wet noise with his nose, and spat out an ooze that spattered the chair and began dissolving it. Cursing under his breath, Vincent released the pressure on the chair, opting to throw it to the side and landed a single punch to the old man's nose. His head snapped back, eyes closing before he even hit the floor.
Stepping over the man's body, Vincent headed up the stairs that the old man had apparently entered the room from, moving slowly as he kept an ear out for any other signs of life. At the top of the steps, Vincent was ggreeted by a long hallway full of closed doors, and one at the far end, slightly ajar with weak light streaming through. Instinctively touching his face to ensure the bandanna was in place, Vincent crept down the hall and listened at the door. The sound of light, frantic, rasping breaths reached his ears, and he kicked the door open to be greeted by an old woman's cry of fear. Leaping forward, Vincent shot forward as air erupted from his elbow nozzles, thighs, and feet, throwing him forward the extra distance needed to stretch out his right arm and land a single blow on the surprised woman's face. She fell backward into the headboard, and was out cold. For a few minutes, Vincent rummaged around the home, pocketing the pearls, gold-leafed earrings, and various other bits of jewelry he found in the woman's jewelry box. The old man's wallet and his wife's purse were emptied, and it wasn't until Vincent found the safe that he had any trouble.
This is a combination lock, I don't have time for this, he thought to himself, looking around the room for any clues. Eventually, he ended up bringing a wet towel over to the woman and woke her up with the cool water he squeezed from it. Before she gained her senses, he clamped a hand over the woman's mouth, pulling her face to look directly into his eyes. "The combination - I need it. I was hoping you'd have a little more on hand as I'm... kind of strapped for cash right now." He smiled, a genuine smile that would be pleasant in nearly any other circumstance. "Well, so I was hoping you could help me out. I figured this place'd be a bit more lively, but, uh... yeah. So, tell me. Don't worry," he winked, "I don't plan on doing anything to you just yet."
Moments later, Vincent was pulling an old shoebox from the closet as the old woman sat in the corner, immobilized by fear and hastily-tied knots. A slip of paper was pulled from inside, and Vincent turned the knob accordingly: 37 - 12 - 58. With a click, the safe unlocked and it was emptied in moments. Without a word, Vincent left the house, closing the back door behind him and re-locking it before placing the key in its hiding spot once more. Clambering over the fence, Vincent disappeared into the night in search of a Sherry's to eat at.
Time: 2 A.M.
Objective: Perform a Crime
Difficulty: Easy
Pushing off of the curb, Vincent hurried through the throng of passersby, bumping shoulders with a man halfway across. His blazer was open, face flushed as he stared... almost at Vincent with a slight scowl and a drunken yell already escaping his lips. Raising his left hand in an apologetic manner, he fished inside of the stolen wallet, grasping the bills as he let the leather booklet fall from his right hand towards his waiting foot. It flew across the short distance between them, slapping against the man's slacks, catching his attention as Vincent pulled his black ball-cap further down over his face in a mock hat-doff. By the time the man looked up from his emptied and returned wallet, Vincent had pushed further ahead to vanish into the crowd.
It wasn't his first time lifting valuables, but the game always got his blood pumping anyways. Still, it was best to start small, so Vincent simply walked along the slowly quieting streets of Seattle. It was nowhere near lifeless, however - neon signs advertised everything from Chinese cuisine to casinos, strip clubs and bowling alleys. Mostly Chinese food and strip clubs. For some time he walked, peeking into windows that caught his attention, until street lamps were the only light sources available. By now, his attire had become less of a profile-obscurer than it was an attention-grabber, so Vincent pulled his hat off, folding it up and slipping it into his pocket as he rolled the jack-o'-lantern-print bandanna up to show only black and left it resting around his neck. Slowly, though, the number of people Vincent encountered diminished. When he saw the same patrolling cop a second time, Vincent waited for them to turn the corner directly ahead of him, and booked it as soon as the front window vanished.
After running eastward several blocks, Vincent reached the residential district, and took a deep breath as he ran straight at the fence, jumping and firing air from his calves, leaping the 9' fence in one motion, and coming to a rolling stop in the wet grass on the other side. With a deep sigh, he heaved himself up and looked around the yard. An old lawnmower, sagging from a wet holding bag but otherwise dry, sat in the middle of a sea of knee-high grass. With a shrug, Vincent turned to the back door as he pulled simple black gloves on and tried the handle, but while the handle turned, the door resisted. He tried it again, but it still didn't budge, so Vincent looked around for anything out of place, and his eyes came to rest on a medium-sized and small rock several feet away. Shaking his head in disappointment, Vincent retrieved the worn key from beneath the smaller rock and unlocked the deadbolt. Sniffling, Vincent replaced his bandanna and hat, breathing low and slow as he turned the handles and swung the door open.
The hinges squealed as the heavy wooden door opened inward, and Vincent winced as he stepped inside. After a few moments of silence, he was pretty sure nobody heard, and his eyes soon acclimated to the darker interior. Stepping lightly, he made his way further into the large house. The mudroom was connected by a short hallway that opened up into a decent-sized kitchen. Though with nothing worth carrying, Vincent headed into the den, and scoffed. A flat-screen TV the size of a refrigerator sat in the room, coated in dust. Squeezing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, Vincent groaned quietly, stepping to the side to leave the way he'd come in just in time to avoid a spray of shells rip through the space he'd just been occupying as it turned the TV into scrap metal and destroyed the walls behind it.
"Gah! Shit! Easy, old man!" Vincent shouted, throwing his hands up in surrender. Though he got no response, as the short old man turned his double-barrel onto Vincent. Inhaling sharply as his eyes widened, Vincent turned his hands to face left, and released a burst of air from both, throwing himself to the side in time to live to hear the pellets hit another wall. "All right, my turn," he muttered, grabbing a chair and rushing the man, pinning him down with the legs. Rather than struggle, he simply wheezed from the strain as he held the shotgun up defensively. He made a disgustingly wet noise with his nose, and spat out an ooze that spattered the chair and began dissolving it. Cursing under his breath, Vincent released the pressure on the chair, opting to throw it to the side and landed a single punch to the old man's nose. His head snapped back, eyes closing before he even hit the floor.
Stepping over the man's body, Vincent headed up the stairs that the old man had apparently entered the room from, moving slowly as he kept an ear out for any other signs of life. At the top of the steps, Vincent was ggreeted by a long hallway full of closed doors, and one at the far end, slightly ajar with weak light streaming through. Instinctively touching his face to ensure the bandanna was in place, Vincent crept down the hall and listened at the door. The sound of light, frantic, rasping breaths reached his ears, and he kicked the door open to be greeted by an old woman's cry of fear. Leaping forward, Vincent shot forward as air erupted from his elbow nozzles, thighs, and feet, throwing him forward the extra distance needed to stretch out his right arm and land a single blow on the surprised woman's face. She fell backward into the headboard, and was out cold. For a few minutes, Vincent rummaged around the home, pocketing the pearls, gold-leafed earrings, and various other bits of jewelry he found in the woman's jewelry box. The old man's wallet and his wife's purse were emptied, and it wasn't until Vincent found the safe that he had any trouble.
This is a combination lock, I don't have time for this, he thought to himself, looking around the room for any clues. Eventually, he ended up bringing a wet towel over to the woman and woke her up with the cool water he squeezed from it. Before she gained her senses, he clamped a hand over the woman's mouth, pulling her face to look directly into his eyes. "The combination - I need it. I was hoping you'd have a little more on hand as I'm... kind of strapped for cash right now." He smiled, a genuine smile that would be pleasant in nearly any other circumstance. "Well, so I was hoping you could help me out. I figured this place'd be a bit more lively, but, uh... yeah. So, tell me. Don't worry," he winked, "I don't plan on doing anything to you just yet."
Moments later, Vincent was pulling an old shoebox from the closet as the old woman sat in the corner, immobilized by fear and hastily-tied knots. A slip of paper was pulled from inside, and Vincent turned the knob accordingly: 37 - 12 - 58. With a click, the safe unlocked and it was emptied in moments. Without a word, Vincent left the house, closing the back door behind him and re-locking it before placing the key in its hiding spot once more. Clambering over the fence, Vincent disappeared into the night in search of a Sherry's to eat at.
