Summary:A pair of fox-style heorines meet in a stroke of luck… Vixens in the house! Just the villains aren't. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
  |
The building had been condemned for months, which is what happens when people find asbestos everywhere. Indeed the "Holland arms" was built back in the thirties with no small amount of bootlegging money, and for -years- now it's leaned on it's "authentic charm" which is a nice way of saying the hotel sucked. It's been a nasty place for like thirty years, but there are worse ways to launder money probably, right? From the street, it looks boring enough, boarded up windows and bright orange caution tape.
This late at night traffic is generally light, the sidewalks kept empty with rain that's been coming and going all day. This generally keeps even the bad guys away from idle villainy, but not everything that goes bump in the night cares.
The call had come in a few hours back but had been flagged low priority, a series of missing homelessness and now a building inspector had gone missing. What they failed to articulate was that his pickup was left parked out front, lunchbag and helmet resting on the bedrails and soaked clean through. So she'd shown when she was able, but well. Neat dark grey bodysuit, chest rig, gunbelt, holster, and boots featuring neat red contrasting stitching. Her trademark carbine cast in black, and decorated with the visage of a red fox across the magwells. Then comes the silver complex hilted rapier cinched to the side of her pack.
What people notice though, is the mask. Hell, it's more of a helmet really, a jumble of harsh angles assembled into a mess of uncanny shapes that doesn't quite resolve until she's looking directly at you. That delicate red glow pulsing in tune with her heart as she gives a slow study of the street, before heading inside. Rad, right? How many -other- Foxes in NYC can there be?
Probably there were some out there. After all, the fox was a staple of thievery. Or trickery. But for Junko not. Where Fox - just fox - had chosen a tight suit clad to her body, the Asian was wearing a dark blue Aikido gi with a red Hakama, a daisho tucked into a belt on her left side, a bundle of rope tucked into it on the right. Vulpine ears part her hair, matching in color, while a domino mask clung to the face.
Armed, she stood on the corner of the street, eying the abandoned building that had become a place for the unclean, slowly moving towards there, the left hand holding the saya of the longer blade.
Fox skulks, creeping through that ancient lobby with carbine tucked neatly to the pocket of her shoulder. The lights on that helmet gradually dimming before they fade out entirely, leaving her free to slip amongst the shadows. She notes the discarded toolbox, it's contents scattered across the floor. A hazmat mask discarded several feet beyond near a door marked "EMPLOYEES early".
She moves like a knife yo, sliding up to the doorway and posting herself beside it. There she draws as still as a statue, listening intently for the slightest hint of a sign of life somewhere beyond. This was supposed to be a short work day for her, she was supposed to be passed out on the couch by now. Yet no, hunting down god knows what in the dark.
After a minute or two, the Firefox started to move, dash to the abandoned building, jumping through one of the destroyed and missing windows, almost seeming to sail in the air before landing on the field of shimmering glass. Her masked eyes dart through the room, her feet crushing some of the larger shards, little low sound of grinding the fractured pieces into the wooden floor. Careful she poses next to the door to the hallway, listening intently before peaking her head around the corner to scan the scene, just some minute or two after Fox had moved upwards.
Fox indeed moves as slow as a noon day shadow, taking her sweet time as she slips up those stairs. Carbine held low as she pauses near the first doorway, peering back down over her shoulder for a few mute moments. A squint, before she half turns and flips a chemlight down the stairs. That helmet gently coming to light with an otherworldly faint green glow, seemingly all but levitating in the darkness.
"Well well, and here I thought I was the only one coming."The voice is digitized, run through filters designed indeed to create a more intimidating sort've growl. "Just in the neighborhood, or you got a dispatcher?"Carbine lifting to rest against her shoulder.
The head in the doorway pulls back quickly at the movement on the stairs, returning only long enough to scan for the general position again. Foxfire sighs a moment, pulling out the blade from the Saya, carefully positioning it in her hand. "Who's there?" she yells around the corner, waiting for an answer.
"Fox, I'm on the job."Comes the easy response. One hand lifting to key up her throat mic, and well yeah just a quick confirmation with dispatch that they hadn't sent anyone else in after her. "And chill out honey, whatever happened here went down hours ago."Casually glancing back up towards the hallway yawning behind her, before peering back after Junko. "We missed whatever happened here, by a few hours. Now I ain't got a problem with company, but not if you're gonna be creeping around behind me."
"I don't know no Fox," comes the answer from below, the blade slowly working out to use the side of it as a mirror, to try to see if the gun was still aimed at the doorway she hid behind. Not that the wall might capture all the bullets, but at least it would lessen their impact and stop some.
"Yeah well, I'm better known in Texas."Comes the retort, and a sigh. Carbine slung over her slumped shoulders, that polygonal fox mask cocked off at an oblique angle. Casual disinterest personified, it would seem. "You know it's -terribly- rude to ask someone's name before you've given them your own, I'm terribly offended."She sounds tired, not offended mind you. "And what am I to call you, sword woman number eighty-three?"
"Firefox." With the answer, she stepped into the doorway fully, the blade in both hands, the red hakama, and hair explaining the fire part while the ears and tail did for the fox. "What're you doing here? I was hoping to clean out a drug lab…"
"Firefox, alright so it's just us Vixens in here today."One gloved hand lifting to thumb over her shoulder. "Investigating a building inspector who's been missing, judging by the blood up here he's been dead for a few hours though."There's a little shrug there "No drug lab though, powers been off for days and they'll need that to cook."
"Depends on what they cook," she answers, the blade carefully lifted and then sheathed as Firefox moved to check out another room on the first floor with a quick glance, never letting the armed one fully out of sight. "But yea, without power most stuff can't be. Can't know that it had been out that long though. You found your building inspector?"
The body there is crumpled beside the stair rail, his head caved in from a single blow to the head. The details are, well unclear but then again Fox doesn't seem terribly eager to roll the body and get in the way of whatever evidence might be here. "What's left of him, afraid he's gone to visit the choir everlasting. Matter for the five-oh now, we don't need curious capes getting all wound up in an active crime scene."
Fox steps forward, casually reaching out to set a small origami fox on the handrail. "You can stay if you like honey, but I'm the wrong sort of blade to slice this mystery wide open."And well, off she goes back down the stairs, one hand lifting to her throat to call it in.
Firefox sighs as she eyes Fox waltzing down the stairs and to the out. "and there goes my chance to make the neighborhood a better place." She moves up to see the body there, and pull a simple cell. Just a picture or two to send to Homicide division from a prepaid card. But the Origami she picked up… after fox left through the door.