hellfireprince:

The room above the Eighth Street Bar was rented under the name "Robert Frank" and when Julian entered that night, he looked nothing like his usually clean-cut self. He'd forced himself into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt (horror of horrors) and mussed up his hair. He looked like a cross between a broke frat boy, a starving artist and a college student who'd been in a few years too long.

Minnie would receive a voice mail early in the day from an individual on Julian's payroll, directing her on where to meet him around eleven p.m. this evening. When she shows up, the door is unlocked and Julian is sitting in a wood chair at a desk across the room.

"You're here." is his greeting. He offers her a smile.

yourtruecolors:

It hadn't taken long to figure out the nature of A.C. Whitman's... heroism. A few admiring questions, a little quiet following. The twit wasn't too careful with his computer, either. Weapons deals. It figured.

In the meantime, 'Minerva' never let up with Zothelle either. She gave a proper impression as a classy little harlot with a good head on her shoulders -- though there was never any impressing Patty. Can't play a player, perhaps. But she'd give just enough insight about financing, just enough help organizing a few little things, just enough subtle hints about ways of improving A.C.'s gun-running. Just enough to make herself seem like she could be quite handy, if they kept letting her in. And in. And in.

She missed Julian so much it hurt. But she had nearly all the information he'd asked her to get. She was almost done.

yourtruecolors:

A LOHN event, full of music, food, and wholesome, smiling faces. Minnie hated them so, so much. She longed to run back to Julian and watch as he brought Zothelle's little empire crashing down.

But for now, she watched, and smiled, and charmed, and lightly flirted, and filed away every single piece of information she heard.

yourtruecolors:

Minerva del Garda is out for dinner with some of her new associates again, gleaning little bits of information here and there. How funding works in the LOHN is slowly starting to come into focus, but she'll need quite a bit more, and that means more schmoozing in all levels of the organization.

And so she giggles at the lightly veiled genetics-based jokes, and flirts just short of shamelessly, and files away their information, and reminds herself that they will pay.

yourtruecolors:

There was garbage burning a hole in her pocket, but she'd think about that later.

"She's ready," Minnie told Julian when she came into his room. She'd pulled the strings and crossed the Ts to create the cover identity of Minerve del Garda. She reached behind her neck to try to take her choker off.

your_talents:

"Well Miss Graves, you're an interesting case study." Dr James Bradley, a.k.a. Dr Nemesis, commented, browsing through some data as Lisa got herself dressed again. Julian had been asked to wait outside the room they used for her exam, and once she was decent enough for anyone that might have been passing by, she opened the door to beckon him back in.

"Well that's encouraging.." She mutters in response to Bradley's analysis.

"Honestly, I was just making small-talk. I've seen much more radical and interesting genetic deviances than your personal stepping stone to reality tv stardom, oxymoron that that is, and a trendy new addiction. You're relatively pedestrian." He shrugs, tipping his hat slightly as he double-checks something. "You can come in whenever you want, corporate overlord. Your girlfriend's a tad edgy."

yourtruecolors:

There. That had finished the business they were working on for now. Julian's posture was sifting as he looked ready to settle in for some private time. Time that Minnie wanted. Time that she wasn't sure she could get enough of, when soon she'd be beginning her "errands" with the LOHN in earnest.

But she had to tell him. She'd been reviewing her memories, and she had to tell him.

"Julian? I need to talk to you about Lisa."

whosperfectnow:

Justin hadn't been gone for long, but he already seemed to be a world away.  He was busy, very busy, and she knew that, but it was still sad and depressing that he was barely even responding to text messages.  Having grown accustomed to having Justin around so much made his absence even heavier and time seemed to drag.  Tina could feel the sadness pulling at the corners of her mind and knew that the longer she sat and thought about Justin's absence the lower she was going to get.  To that end she decided to get off of the couch and do something.  The closets hadn't been touched in ages, after all.

She'd hauled a hefty load of clothing (mostly dresses) and shoes in and lay them on the counter.  Vincent's Tailor and Shoes was a little, almost hole-in-the-wall place but it had a mighty reputation for being the absolute best.  Tina trusted their staff and genuinely enjoyed going there, the little old grandmother who did most of the alterations always ready to give Tina a compliment about her figure or tell her to drink more water.  It was a kind of gentle fussing care and attention that Tina had missed.  It'd been a long, long time.

Tina had signed off on her customer slip and was turning to leave when the bell on the door jingled with the entrance of another patron.

weighed_down:

Edmund was on the outskirts of Jerome Howard's home, scanning the area. He had a few guards, but nothing that couldn't be handled. For such a big man, Edmund could be deceptively quick and quiet when he needed to be. From the cover of a nearby bush, he waits for the first guard to get close. When he got close enough, Edmund grabbed him, quickly snapping his neck. He hid the body, quickly filing away where he put it, before moving in closer. He slinks along the back of the house, making his way toward the front door. He sees another guard by the entrance. Using his power, he forces a piece of wall tile to fall lightly, but audibly, near the guard. The man turned at the noise and went in the direction it came from. Perfect position. Edmund sends another tile down, but with much more significant force as it cracks the man's skull on the way down. With the front cleared, Edmund snuck inside. Someone must have heard the second tile come down as another guard raced around the corner. Edmund didn't hesitate. He flung a right cross at the man head, and just before his fist connected he increased it's mass. The man's face caved in from the impact, instantly killing him.

"What the hell's going on out there!?" Edmund sees the man, Jerome if Minnie's description was accurate, who raises his gun upon seeing him. Edmund extends his hands, forcing the gun down on the man's feet like a stone. "Fuck! You mutie freak!" the man writhed on the floor, the bones in his feet crushed. "You're with him, aren't you!? That freak wants to take what's mine!"

Edmund raised an eyebrow at that, the only indication that he put the pieces together. Looks like he'd have something to talk about when he got back to New York. He looked back down at the man. "Yeah, he did.  He says to see you in Hell." And then he brought his foot down, finishing the job.

-15 minutes later-
He had gathered up all the bodies, cleaned up any remains, and loaded them into his car. He loaded some of the late Jerome's furntiure into the back on top of the bodies, making it look as if he were either moving or delivering orders to someone. He then took a series of alternate routes to avoid as many potential law enforcement and checkpoints as possible. Those few he did he maintained his calm and went by with no fuss. He reached the Atlantic Ocean, having had a boat prepared ahead of time. After some more lifting, he put the bodies on board and sailed out a ways. He dumped the bodies overboard, using his power to force them to sink to the very deepest depths. As the last one sank, he though again to what Jerome had said. Edmund had an idea of who the "freak" was, but he would see for himself. Time to go home.

weighed_down:


It was around 8:00 in the morning after Edmund's encounter with the femme fatale at the burlesque club. ( http://www.scribbld.com/users/weighed_down/719.html)  He hadn't gotten dressed yet when he checked his labtop for new messages. Apparently Minni was quick to respond.

yourtruecolors:

Minnie had been running countless background checks, but her hands were empty as she knocked quietly but distinctly on Julian's door late one morning. Anything her Julian might need to know was in her head.

She'd already knocked when she noticed the colors bleeding through the door didn't seem right. Was he not there? And whose was the pattern that was?

yourtruecolors:

Minnie was wearing the choker Julian had given her for her 18th birthday. It and a few other added elements classed up her dance clothes enough for the club she was in. It wasn't one of her usual clubs, but all the better. She'd snag the Black Queen at her tattoo parlor later. This one had to come first. She made her way quietly towards the glistening beacon across the room. "Ms. Frost?"