.

[jackal bones]

◄ LOCATION : Foxtrot Lane owl ◄ COMPANY : No one owl ◄ MOOD : Focused owl ◄ INK : 17%


Expectation and irritation all wrapped up into one, there was a fluttering tap to one set of her toes as Red tried her very best to wait with patience. But anyone who even slightly knew the girl was aware she lacked even a shred of a capacity for waiting, or waiting quietly. "Well?" She let the single syllable drip off her tongue with a lash of venom, and though only a full moment had passed, it was far too long for her liking. Nothing. Just as Red had suspected, an utter and terrible waste of their precious time. There was also a new issue of what should be done with a house ransacked by thieves (all of which had been politely knocked unconscious). Her lip twitched into an irked grimace, a callous chuckle forced up from somewhere at the back of her throat. "At least you got a gun out of it." And just as Red was about to add a little further on that note, she stiffened up into silence.

Her bird constructed of ink hit the forefront of her mind. Mentally linked, its view of the skies and rooftops had gently been out of focus for Red-- until just now. Some figure had vaulted a fence before taking off across a backyard, only to clamber over another fence and into the next yard. The path itself was an intriguing one, red flags metaphorically snapping up in the girl's mind. What's more, the figure was dressed from head to toe in clothes that rang more alarm bells. A hat, giant sunglasses, even a scarf in such nice weather! It seemed a little much, even to Red, but it was a welcome bait clue that she was more than willing to take chase for.

Blinking back into focus, the girl lifted her gaze back up to Isaias with a shudder racing its way down her spine. "Leave them. Someone outside." With a flick of her hand as a summoning gesture, it was not only meant for Isaias, but also her ink. The binding hardened and wrapped around the punched out male had liquefied before shooting towards the girl's fingers, seeping into her skin. Seamlessly launching herself into a sprint, Red rounded out of the living room, bounding down the hall, and in the next moment, had spilled back outside into sunlight.

(Un)fortunately, Red wasn't like most kids. There wasn't any bumble, or awkward fumble, in her steps. She was far more practiced and graceful than any other her age, having had years to perfect and hone her small form. So it need not be said that when Red bolted down from the doorway, she was just like a bat out of hell. With her bird to guide her, she took a sharp left as she crossed a lawn before vaulting herself effortlessly over a fence (thanks to her ink to support and empower her), and off she went in chase. Following a similar path, Red had crossed by hedges, slipping beneath what she could fit or launching herself over them. Casting a fleeting glance over her shoulder, Red had a small moment to lament her group's lack of communication-- no walkie talkies? nothing? --and that whatever she faced may be alone. Well. As the younger generation so aptly begun to say: YOLO.

owlsoulowl◄ OOC : ♫

[farewell sweet prince]

STOP. EVENT TIME. (SUBURB FUN)



In the first moments after, the figure paused for a second: someone was following.

And then, as if they had been waiting for this moment the entire time, picked up the pace. They ran faster. They scaled another fence, but before disappearing over, looked back. Their expression was completely hidden—courtesy of the glasses and scarf—but there was a distinct impression that they were smiling.

It was as if this whole thing was a challenge.



* * *



1. This is a response to Elsa's post.

[jackal bones]

◄ LOCATION : Foxtrot Lane owl ◄ COMPANY : Mystery Man owl ◄ MOOD : Focused owl ◄ INK : 17%


He paused? ..He paused! Just enough, but her bird had caught the momentary halt, and it gave Red the single moment to catch up enough that the guy was just in view. Guy. She was mostly certain of that, though the attire made it just a bit too much of a challenge to really say for sure. With her ink wrapped around the skin of her legs, it gave her just a bit of the boost that she needed to leap over the next fence--

What? He was looking back at her! Watching her! There was a strange boil to her blood, not because they had any meaningful exchanges between their looks.. But this meant that the guy knew Red was after him, and he bolted forward even harder! Another fence scaled, another yard torn across; the gap was there between them and Red suddenly wasn't so sure she would ever catch up.

Of course, there were options here. Red always had options. She could simply.. tail him for awhile. Maybe sometime eventually her comrades would show up and be of some use-- but that was an uncertainty Red couldn't put much hope into. Had she been given the chance to restock her ammunition, Red would have been much more confident in catching this guy. Such a measly amount was pitiful! So, it was time to be carefully reckless, a beautiful oxymoron that Red was wildly sure would work.

Still chasing, still running at full speed, Red brought her inky winged creature down from the sky-- not of much use now that she could see the masked figure for herself --and aimed to fly it right into the guy's face. Distract him just enough so she could catch up the rest of the way.

owlsoulowl◄ OOC : ♫ short posts tiem!

[farewell sweet prince]

STOP. EVENT TIME. (SUBURB FUN)




They crossed the backyards without any great difficulties—even managed to avoid several piles of uncleaned dog waste.

It was either because they had been in the yard before or they were simply a master of reactions. Either way, other than some dirt and grass, nothing else met the underside of the shadow's boots. Of course, avoiding stationary things on the ground was easy; it was another story with aerial collisions.

They noticed it too late and anything they tried to do didn't seem to be enough. The bird smashed into the person's forehead, knocking the cap loose, knocking the glasses off. They staggered to the left, momentarily disoriented.

And then he looked back. Yes, he looked back.

He had short brown hair—choppy and uneven—and watery blue eyes that didn't scream: crazed, psycho murderer. It didn't even look like the face of an accomplice to an evil mastermind. No, he looked painfully average.

There was nothing overtly suspicious about him other than the fact that he had pulled out a gun and, with familiarity only a trained man would know, fired off three rounds. If he was afraid, there wasn't even a hint of it on his face.


* * *



1. This is a response to Elsa's post.

[jackal bones]

◄ LOCATION : Foxtrot Lane owl ◄ COMPANY : Mystery Man owl ◄ MOOD : Focused owl ◄ INK : 17%


As Red dashed after her mysterious target, it had become something less of a wild run and more of an elegant dance full of meticulous footwork. On the masked figure's end, he seemed to know precisely where to step and how to launch himself past obstacles; and Red was miserably behind. She was beautifully graceful, that much was still certain, but when it came to the layout of the neighborhood.. She was regretfully lacking. And for the longest moment, it just seemed Red would never quite get the edge she needed to catch herself up the few meters between them.

But her bird was a success! Not even Red could stifle the triumphant hiss of a yesss! that escaped her. It was a bull's eye too, striking the guy smack dab in his forehead. A stagger, a few articles of clothing lost, Red pushed herself forward to close the gap and--

He wasn't at all what she was expecting to see. Sure, plenty of times on missions, the ones that the Reapers were after were just your average Joe's. But this was supposedly someone that Red thought to be working for the Red King. With all the hype surrounding this villain, she thought that.. well, he would look more.. evil. Maybe one of those twisted and well-groomed mustaches that he would pinch between his fingertips while he cackled maniacally. But this was just some.. blue-eyed, brown-haired nobody.

Still a bit taken aback by appearances, Red relied far too heavily on her reflexes alone as the male whipped his arm up, gun abruptly in hand. She flinched, her ink shooting up to form a shield-- but closely grouped shots won out over her measly creation of protection. The second shot brought the hardened material to a buckle, and the third snapped through. Hot lead embedded itself into her shoulder, causing her to reel backward as a sharp yelp wrenched itself free of lips. Blinded by unbearable white-hot pain, it was right back to innate instincts, the rudimentary need to survive, that had Red acting and reacting.

Her bird, back on the offensive, dove towards the male's hand as its shape melted. Just like earlier, the ink wrapped itself around the gun, sharp yank coming next to seamlessly disarm him. Red, meanwhile, dropped into a pained crouch with a thin barrier of ink hovering in front of her. At the very least, Reapers would heal fairly quickly.. It didn't stop the pain, nor the adrenaline that sharply pumped through her veins.

owlsoulowl◄ OOC : ♫

[VaniIIa Rice]

MY ODDS ARE STACKED, BUT FOR YOU I'D LOSE IT ALL xxx MY ODDS ARE STACKED, BUT FOR YOU I'D LOSE IT ALL
MY ODDS ARE STACKED, BUT FOR YOU I'D LOSE IT ALL xxx MY ODDS ARE STACKED, BUT FOR YOU I'D LOSE IT ALL
▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

XXXIan's eyes widened at the sudden revelation.

XXX"You're kidding. This is your first mission... ever? Wow... well I'm definitely not young--just a handful of decades. If you want old, you should talk to Red."

XXXHis attention was suddenly split between his thoughts on Metamorphous and the mission at hand. There was no real reason that someone like Gail should be on a mission to apprehend the Red King of all people... not unless they were keeping something from him.

XXXOrion followed the young rookie into the house as the scent of burning curry instantly hit them like a punch to the face. He did not expect that. As he slowly eased himself into his investigation, he decided to give the fellow Reaper a quick rundown of his abilities. Flashing the deck of cards holstered to his body, he quickly drew one of each suit.

XXX"It's my ability. See when I made my contract, my soul was bound to this deck of cards, and each suit has its own nifty little trick." As he explained, the diamond and heart each began to glow bright purple. "These guys are my personal favorites. They let me deal some pretty heavy damage at range." Next he allowed his five of spades to morph into an arm-length hilt-less blade. "And as you saw before, my spades turn into swords, daggers, and knives of varying lengths." Last, but not least, a six of clubs floated out in front of him before it grew 50 times in size. "Finally, I use these for shielding, but they're pretty great for transportation, too." As he reached the conclusion of his crash course, he realized he had nearly forgotten his two most important cards.

XXX"I almost forgot!" he exclaimed as he held out his black and white jokers. "These two jokers give me the dexterity and resilience I need to hold my own against demons, spirits, etc. Without them, I might as well be an average human with glorified playing cards." He winked as he finally concluded his 'lesson.'

XXXHis hands hovered over various objects within the household, seeing if he could pick up on the same energy he had sensed clinging to the mail from before, but to no avail. He began to diligently search the household, not being very careful to keep things tidy. He had already broken the lock off the front door, so if it was going to look like a home invasion either way. As he continued his investigation, it was clear that whatever energy he was sensing before was completely absent from the house itself. For all intents and purposes, they seemed to be in the presence of a run-of-the-mill Indian household.

XXX"I must've made a mistake... Wait, wait, wait. This is your FIRST mission?" He basically repeated himself. "Metamorphous assigns new Reapers to veteran agents at the start of their careers. Who's your handler?

XXXUnfortunately, he didn't get a chance to hear her answer as three successive shots of gunfire echoed off. At the same time, he caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye. Peering out the back window, he witnessed Red chasing after some mysterious figure in what seemed like a game of backyard tag.

XXXAt this point, he didn't seem to have a lot of options. The house they were currently exploring was a certainly a dead end and Red seemed to require his help. "Gail! Follow them on foot! I'm headed for the roof." Reacting instantly, Ian bolted up the stairs and climbed his way up to the rooftop. Elsa was just on the perpetrator's tail, but if Ian took advantage of his increased agility, he could take to the roofs and help her cut him off.

XXXAs he began leaping, flipping, and vaulting across rooftops, he held a long black weapon in the shape of a kampilan, minus the hilt, in preparation.

[walking distance]

Between the events of the day, breaking into the house and Ian’s crash course on his contract deck, Gail’s mind was positively swimming. Though her own ability came with a large amount of freedom it was certainly easier to deal with than such specifics, and as soon as Ian had finished explaining she was, unsurprisingly, brimming with questions. Straightforward as he had been, what happened if the spades broke? Did they just regenerate when they were used? And if so, did it happen right away or over a span of time? Most importantly—what happened when you played fifty-two pickup?

Gail didn’t know exactly what she was looking for, but when she finally decided that she didn’t find it in the master bedroom she went out towards the hall once more. Her brows furrowed when she heard Ian’s question; wasn’t it obvious enough that he was her handler? Did he need it spelled out for him? The brunette was about to voice her thoughts, albeit in a much more respectful way, before her attention was snatched away by the sound of gunshots. In her short life, she’d never heard gunshots before, or even watched enough violent television programs to know what they would sound like. But the explosive pop sounds were exactly how Gail would have imagined them. And if the way Ian reacted was any indication, her wild imagination was probably right for once.

“Yes sir!” Gail shouted in response to Ian’s words. Making her way out the back door (and shutting it for her conscience’s sake), she ran across the lawn, only to be stopped by a fence. Of course, she thought, frustrated with herself for not taking the normal way out the front door. But who could blame her? The back door was the quickest way, but it seemed to be even more of a dead end than the house was. Her mind raced as she pushed against the fence for any loose boards, but it was sturdy and new and refused to budge.

Under the pressure, her mind raced, eyes darting around as she considered her options faster than a card dealer dealt out a deck. Axe, hammer, chainsaw… Gail looked at her gloved hands, feeling the iron in her veins distorting their shape underneath and malleable like putty. Realistically, a chainsaw would be the fastest way to go about things, but her moral priorities made her minimize destruction, even if it meant sacrificing speed. Finally, she took the shoes off and took a deep breath, allowing the iron that had gathered at her hands to relocate through her arms, down her torso and legs and to her feet. She knew she was taking a chance, not having as much experience with her feet, but it was a gamble she was willing to make.

Gail’s feet seemed to elongate and grow slimmer, turning silver at the toes and curving until they coiled. Metal spread to her ankles and it looked more painful than it was, although it was difficult to suppress at least a wince when your feet were turning into springs. She gave a light experimental bounce, her face expressing all kinds of awe at how her body had complied so well with what she had pictured in her head. Finally she pushed down against the ground, aimed, and kicked off.

Perhaps she kicked off too hard. She couldn’t help but give a scream when she found herself airborne, jumping over the fence and the next—only to nearly crash the third. Gail had very little control and slipped then, falling on her behind and onto a hard concrete floor. But there was no time to linger on the pain, and noticing there was a door in this fence, she pushed it open and ran with her bare feet.

This backyard was different from the others. Standing in the middle of it was a man, or boy—it was difficult to tell from her angle—but all Gail could see was the gun in his hand. She didn’t know whether to thank her feet for bringing her here or turning to sprint in another direction. Instinctively though, she removed one of her gloves, pointed her index and middle fingers at the person, and fired. Maybe he was just an innocent, or a petty thief. Either way, her body had reacted largely on its own, and she fired three shots, feeling the iron leave her body and knocking her back with both recoil and exhaustion. But she couldn’t bring herself to look; couldn’t bring herself to see if she had hit or missed the man she had targeted without thinking.