Summary:A couple of terrorists take a bank hostage… Dead Girl frees the hostages, but there was a price. Log Info:Storyteller: Jane Roe |
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The Burgherr Bank has had bragged in the last months that they can't be robbed. Of course they base that on the fact, that they have their whole buisiness model based on trading stocks, credit cards and online banking. They couldn't be robbed because they didn't have physical money to rob. But they had a main server, located in the financial sector of New York. And there lies the problem: they have a server.
About twenty minutes ago, the whole tower went dark as the lighting system shut down. A minute or two later, the generators kicked in to keep the servers running, but the short interruption had let a group of terrorists armed with SMGs into the secured sector and they had started to take the people hostages.
Now, the hostages have been herded into a conference room, the window blocked with the curtains - and a call was placed claiming that should the terrorists see so much as a siren, they'd blow the whole skyscraper up.
Dead Girl has all kinds of bank accounts all over the place. She keeps some of the money for The Store in Burgherr- largely that which she uses to pay various in city taxes, salaries to the people she employees, and utilities.
Dead Girl, however, is a little harder to make into a hostage than most people- she simply phased through a wall and was gone as soon as the trouble started. The conference room would be her next stop, after a pause in the kitchen to grab an orange.
Once everyone is 'safely' inside the conference room she casually approaches one of the guards, peeling that orange with a rather wicked looking claw. "Yo homeslice, what's up?" she asks as she delicately traces that razor sharp claw along the skin of the orange- making a very thin, very delicate spiral of peel. "Looks like you're causing trouble. Didn't you know this building is haunted?" she wonders- her eyes glowing red. Angry red. Like the balefires of the underworld themselves- here stands a very obviously dead woman. She's so still- apart from her slicing the orange.
WOrking for the God of Mischeif means off shore accounts? It means needing to shop around for THE RIGHT bank to handle the money of a being that plays oragami with the universe occassionally, but didn't have to creativity to think about making it a jumpy frog. Darcy will never let him live that down ever. So, dressed in a power suit, Darcy had come to this bank to ask some very pointed questions to see if she wanted to suggest it to Loki.
Darcy had not planned on being taken hostage.
She sat in the conference room with the other hostages, listening, being quiet, staying good, watchign to see if they'll ignore her long enough for her to play on her phone safely.
The two guys guarding the hostages turn at the voice, one of them grunting as he aims his gun at Dead Girl, the other doing the decidedly smarter move of aiming his weapon at the hostages - the one right next to Darcy - but he's not exactly looking over the sights to take aim. "It's not and you will do what I say. To your knees, hand behind your head or they die," he claims, while his buddy makes sure his gun is not safe. They are not dummies - their guns are loaded ready, they don't waste time to have to load ready with a menacy sound… or are they bluffing?
"You really think the Dead Girl gives a shit about people dying?" Dead Girl wonders, sounding a little amused. "Doesn't seem to bother me now does it?" she wonders, next, as she continues peeling the orange.
Dead Girl lifts the orange- leting the fruit fall free as she holds up the peel. "Pretty good spiral, don't you think?" she wonders next as she drapes the spiral of peel across her shoulders.
"Oh? Hands behind my head?" She brings her hands together, those claws striking at her own wrists. Dead Girl's hands fall to the ground- there isn't any blood.
The hands skitter then up Dead Girl's legs, sitting behind her head like crowns. "Like this?" she wonders next, as the air around her starts to turn colder. Colder. Eyes glowing brighter. "And my knees.. RIght." *CRAK. CRACK* Dead Girl breaks her own knees- they bend backwards. "Like this?" she asks- obviously not in pain as she stares at them both with those glowing red eyes. Angry eyes. "Oh, my dear- you're pointing your gun at someone innocent. I do not recommend doing that,." she offers over to the hostage taker, even as new hands grow on the stumps left behind- almost immediately regrowing, bones first, then sinew and muscle and tendons and finally blue skin.
Darcy stays still, continues staying silent. She watches that gun pointed at the person next to her, notes that the conference room chairs are those lovely office rollie chairs. Darcy loves those chairs. They are SO much fun to office joist with!
Very slowly, as Dead Girl provides a beautiful if creepy distraction, Darcy spins her chair to face that other person, brings her feet up onto the side of his seat and then…
Darcy shoves with her legs. Both legs. Fast and hard and with enough force to get the man clear and then topple him over so he'll be hidden by the table, while she herself tips herself out of her own chair and then scrambles for cover.
And for her phone, dammit.
Instead of answering to Dead Girl's taunts, the grunts look at each other a half moment, then open fire. Both. Bullets riddle the poor Herbert Washington, service accountant supervisor for the eastern coast callcenter, which was located in mexico. Holes appear in his chair and through one arm of him. Blood is thrown onto the carpet and glass behind, making him and Felicia Green right on his right scream in shock, drawing the muzzle of the smoking gun to her forehead. Herbert meanwhile collapses from the chair, bleeding over the floor. "SILENCE!" The mercenary that wounded the man yells, his free hand pointing at Darcy. "You there! Tie that arm off before he soaks the floor like a gutted pig!"
The other one empties a short salvo into Dead Girl's direction before yelling. "No tricks you moron! Do exactly as we say and just what we say or she dies next!"
Dead Girl is shot- chunks of body flying as bullets riddle her body. Her eyes grow all the larger. "I see." she says quietly. "Then I suppose it's time I did something about all this. I tried to be nice~" she chirps.
And then the movements happen. All at once, the pair begin to see The Dead. They get a view of Death from the standpoint of the living. They may not have been haunted before- but now, the dead come forth to do the bidding of the Dead Girl.
To most of the living this is a pants-shitting terrifying experience. And when it's joined by Dead Girl grabbing someone and bodily throwing them like they were toys, it's all the more terrifying. Dead Girl first grabs at the man who shot at her- attempting to just launch him through a nearby office's plate glass and into a wall. The other man would be beset upon shortly there-after, albeit by Dead Girl's severed hands. She moves with an impossible grace, and strength- with a speed fed by the grave.
Her two 'severed' hands fly from behind her head, launched with strength- one going for the gunman's throat. The other for his eyes, with claws out- Dead Girl isn't a killer- but she'll take a man's eyes for his sins.
As Darcy scrambles to try to help Herbert by tying off the arm as told, the one that shot him instinctively pulls the trigger the moments the ghosts start to appear as a mere movement as a well trained reflex kicks in. An instinct from a warzone, making him spraying bullets all over the room… and right through the head of miss Green, as her head is right in front of the muzzle. He does fill his pants before the hands go to dig into his eyes, but it's too late for miss Green. More bullets fill the air of the room as DG impacts his partner, his inertia pulling the trigger for him and turning the floor into a crater landscape while she throws him into the wall.
People die. It happens every day. Dead Girl more than anyone else, knows that Death Comes to us all. It is perhaps not surprising she doesn't blink at death, tragic though it is.
She's launched forward again, grabbing the man who's murdered another. He, too, is thrown like a bag of potatoes. Dead Girl looks down at poor, Ms. Green. Shaking her head. "Sad." she says quietly, as she leans down and brings Miss Green back- at least for a moment, and gives the woman her phone. "You're not going to survive this." She states simply.
"Say goodbye to your family and your friends." she offers simply, as she kneels back. "And then, you and I will avenge your death, yes?" she wonders- keeping Miss Green's soul from departing, for now. "Unless you'd rather just move on. Your choice."
As DG is doing her part to pretty much rescue most of the hostages save for one dead and one injured and work on revenge, there is a low boom some floors up in the building. Then another, making the ceiling shiver and shake. The terrorists had been more than two… and they had talked about blowing the building…
Dead Girl looks up. "Oh my." she remarks, "I think it would be best if we all got out of here as quickly as possible." she notes to the living. "Everyone get to the stairs." she says as she helps Miss Green do whatever she needs. "I'll help this one." she says as she picks up the woman to carry her out quietly. "It'll be safest in the stairwell." Modern buildings, typically, had reinforced stairwells to protect against major damages such as fires and earthquakes. It's the safest possible place if the building is coming down. "Quickly and calmly now, don't worry!" she offers as she begins to walk quickly (but calmly) towards the stairwell with the murdered woman carried.
Luckily for DG and her group of hostages, the ceiling stays up, even though there is a fourth explosion as they enter the stairwell and start to hustle down. There's no resistance from the other terrorists.
Once down stairs, Dead Girl will let Miss Green stay or depart as she decides- she'll have an hour left before she's gone for good. An hour to say goodbye, although she can always just… go any time she wants. Dead Girl doesn't leave the building- at least, not by the front door. She simply disappears now that the hostages are mostly saved. Away to do her own thing, wherever it is she has to do it.