Post by mavspade on Dec 19, 2021 10:02:00 GMT -8
The bus drifted slowly to the curb, letting out a gaseous hiss. It lurched to the side, dropping its door closer to the pavement before they swung open. The hunched shape of an older man wobbled down the short steps towards the sidewalk, grasping a grocery bag in one hand and leaning on a cane in the other.
Nestor paused at the bottom, letting both of his weary feet find balance before he raised his cane hand in a weak but honest wave to the driver. The trip had taken him longer than he had anticipated, and he was giving his knees hell for it. He wanted to complain and grumble about it, but no one was around to listen. So he started the slow shuffle home down the dark street with a huff and a sigh.
Behind him, just past his waning peripheral vision, a shadow emerged from the bus stop.
The walk was the same as it ever was. Nestor's minds danced to memories of his past; tonight in particular, he had a deep craving for a beer, not just any beer, but one at a dive bar, poured a little too foamy and accompanied by the smell of ash grease, and old alcohol. The sense memory tickled his mind, making the journey easier. He could almost see the bartender; what was his name?
"Excuse ussss, sir" Came a hiss of a young voice that warbled as if recorded on an old recorder.
Nestor's heart jumped as his memory was interrupted, almost losing his balance before a hand shot out and grabbed his arm, steadying him. But, unfortunately, he only caught a glimpse of the hand; its fingers stained black like ink, the index and ring finger a digit too long. Or he thought so, but it was quickly tucked away in a hoodie pocket of a teenager.
There were three of them, two teens, maybe a middle schooler. Nestor wasn't sure; all three wore black and had their hoods pulled up. He could make out the lower half of their faces, which looked filthy with grime. His heart raced, young people at night were scary enough, but something felt wrong here.
"Oh-oh, thank you-" he said, trying to find his wits.
"We want your cane," The oldest quickly interrupted, reaching out his hand, which in the streetlamp light appeared normal.
"what?" Nestor said anger appeared in his voice, spurred on by fear.
"Your cane, old man, give it to us, or we will take it," Replied the second tallest, a young woman's voice that warbled in pitch. A reflection of the halogen street light sparked as the teen produced a pocket Knife.
" The cane!" The first demanded.
Before Nestor knew what was happening, his assailants moved fast. The smallest of the three snatch the cane from his hand with surprising strength. The tallest quickly grabbed Nestor's shoulder, preventing him from moving, while the third flashed the knife in another threat. In less than a moment, they had moved past him in a distortion of laughs. His heart pounded as he tried to shuffle around to see where they went.
The street was empty.
Lucky Jack's message was simple; after brief research within the Freehold, he found candidates he believed would fit the need of the assignment. Then, a text message chain started asking them to meet him after work, sooner the better.
Lucky Jack sat at his desk nursing a cup of coffee and staring grimly into the middle distance when the first arrived. It was plain to see the man was looking tired. But, of course, it wasn't a surprise he looked so worn down, with everything that had been happening the last few months. The Holiday season probably wasn't helping either.
When the summoned lost for begin to gather, he greeted each in turn.
"Grab a coffee on me," he remarked dryly, gesturing to the pot of coffee on the back table across the room. Then, once the Lost had settled in, he began.
"Right, " He says mostly to himself as he removes a manila folder, producing photocopied maps of Summerlin. Several areas had been marked, clustering mainly in the southern tip.
"last month or so, we have had an increase of break-ins, muggings, and petty theft through the area. It's not unheard of but a bit more than we usually see.
The weird thing is victims and a few witnesses are reporting similar, uh, let's call them oddities. Firstly most reports sight the perpetrator as teens, maybe kids. They cover their faces, wear black, the usual. Surprisingly all reported stolen property has been of little financial value but hold emotional weight to the victims"
He pauses, taking a moment to take a sip of his cooling coffee.
"Interestingly, some witnesses claim they 'came out of the shadows, in a literal sense. Most wrote it off, but a few went further, saying the perps were wrong, too long, too short, moved in strange ways. Investigations have written it off as poor lighting, time of night.
However, the strangest one was a break-in with no apparent entry; the house owner thinks they may have left their door unlocked, but the spouse disagrees. You get my point. We haven't caught any suspects yet, and I am detouring resources from the investigation to more pressing matters. "
He looks to the three for a moment as if appraising his choice.
"Look, I don't think this is the next revenant crisis, but with how shit is right now, I rather not sit around and find out. That's where I was hoping the three of you would come in. I want to make sure this isn't visitors from the market, or one of our own stirring trouble"
He paused, giving the three lost a chance to ask questions and look over the map.
Nestor paused at the bottom, letting both of his weary feet find balance before he raised his cane hand in a weak but honest wave to the driver. The trip had taken him longer than he had anticipated, and he was giving his knees hell for it. He wanted to complain and grumble about it, but no one was around to listen. So he started the slow shuffle home down the dark street with a huff and a sigh.
Behind him, just past his waning peripheral vision, a shadow emerged from the bus stop.
The walk was the same as it ever was. Nestor's minds danced to memories of his past; tonight in particular, he had a deep craving for a beer, not just any beer, but one at a dive bar, poured a little too foamy and accompanied by the smell of ash grease, and old alcohol. The sense memory tickled his mind, making the journey easier. He could almost see the bartender; what was his name?
"Excuse ussss, sir" Came a hiss of a young voice that warbled as if recorded on an old recorder.
Nestor's heart jumped as his memory was interrupted, almost losing his balance before a hand shot out and grabbed his arm, steadying him. But, unfortunately, he only caught a glimpse of the hand; its fingers stained black like ink, the index and ring finger a digit too long. Or he thought so, but it was quickly tucked away in a hoodie pocket of a teenager.
There were three of them, two teens, maybe a middle schooler. Nestor wasn't sure; all three wore black and had their hoods pulled up. He could make out the lower half of their faces, which looked filthy with grime. His heart raced, young people at night were scary enough, but something felt wrong here.
"Oh-oh, thank you-" he said, trying to find his wits.
"We want your cane," The oldest quickly interrupted, reaching out his hand, which in the streetlamp light appeared normal.
"what?" Nestor said anger appeared in his voice, spurred on by fear.
"Your cane, old man, give it to us, or we will take it," Replied the second tallest, a young woman's voice that warbled in pitch. A reflection of the halogen street light sparked as the teen produced a pocket Knife.
" The cane!" The first demanded.
Before Nestor knew what was happening, his assailants moved fast. The smallest of the three snatch the cane from his hand with surprising strength. The tallest quickly grabbed Nestor's shoulder, preventing him from moving, while the third flashed the knife in another threat. In less than a moment, they had moved past him in a distortion of laughs. His heart pounded as he tried to shuffle around to see where they went.
The street was empty.
Lucky Jack's message was simple; after brief research within the Freehold, he found candidates he believed would fit the need of the assignment. Then, a text message chain started asking them to meet him after work, sooner the better.
Lucky Jack sat at his desk nursing a cup of coffee and staring grimly into the middle distance when the first arrived. It was plain to see the man was looking tired. But, of course, it wasn't a surprise he looked so worn down, with everything that had been happening the last few months. The Holiday season probably wasn't helping either.
When the summoned lost for begin to gather, he greeted each in turn.
"Grab a coffee on me," he remarked dryly, gesturing to the pot of coffee on the back table across the room. Then, once the Lost had settled in, he began.
"Right, " He says mostly to himself as he removes a manila folder, producing photocopied maps of Summerlin. Several areas had been marked, clustering mainly in the southern tip.
"last month or so, we have had an increase of break-ins, muggings, and petty theft through the area. It's not unheard of but a bit more than we usually see.
The weird thing is victims and a few witnesses are reporting similar, uh, let's call them oddities. Firstly most reports sight the perpetrator as teens, maybe kids. They cover their faces, wear black, the usual. Surprisingly all reported stolen property has been of little financial value but hold emotional weight to the victims"
He pauses, taking a moment to take a sip of his cooling coffee.
"Interestingly, some witnesses claim they 'came out of the shadows, in a literal sense. Most wrote it off, but a few went further, saying the perps were wrong, too long, too short, moved in strange ways. Investigations have written it off as poor lighting, time of night.
However, the strangest one was a break-in with no apparent entry; the house owner thinks they may have left their door unlocked, but the spouse disagrees. You get my point. We haven't caught any suspects yet, and I am detouring resources from the investigation to more pressing matters. "
He looks to the three for a moment as if appraising his choice.
"Look, I don't think this is the next revenant crisis, but with how shit is right now, I rather not sit around and find out. That's where I was hoping the three of you would come in. I want to make sure this isn't visitors from the market, or one of our own stirring trouble"
He paused, giving the three lost a chance to ask questions and look over the map.
