|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Sept 18, 2011 18:52:17 GMT -5
Pamela strives for absolute silence even as she takes a deep breath of fresh air for the first time in... How long has it been? Seems like it's been weeks to her, but given that she's used to being the pampered socialite it was probably only a few days. And it really isn't fresh air that she's breathing, but Gotham's usual smog - especially thick in this part of town - but to her senses at the moment it's an improvement upon the warehouse that she's been imprisoned in.
"This way," she hears a voice urge in a whisper, and she quickly follows the man through the alleyway. It took awhile, but eventually Nightwing lost interest in keeping an eye on her personally and she was left alone with a few guards. And as confident as she is in her poison, bit by bit the thought that something funny is going on crept into her mind and wouldn't let go. So when she noted that one of the guards in particular looked easy to manipulate, she decided that it would be best to get herself out of this predicament rather than sitting around and playing this game with Nightwing.
"Are we almost there, Peter?" she whispers to the man now leading her away from the hideout. The fool thinks that she's madly in love with him and that they're running away together. Hah!
"Yes, but I'm James," he whispers back absentmindedly, behaving like a good little mindless puppet between her pheromones and the fact that his mind is on getting them out with neither of them getting shot instead of the inconsistencies in behavior by his new 'girlfriend'.
It certainly isn't her current acting job - having been kept confined in that stuffy warehouse for a few days seems to have sapped her energy. She hadn't really tested it before, but she was guessing that with all of the plant genes in her system that not getting enough sunlight is now bad for her. Theory confirmed: she's gotten all the food and sleep she could want while she was held captive, but she still feels tired. Convincing James to help her escape had taken some very real effort as a result. "I'm sorry, James," she replies flirtatiously, all too eager to be rid of this idiot.
That moment comes a few careful twists in their path later when they emerge out from among a small cluster of warehouses and reach a wider but vacant roadway. "As long as we keep moving, we should be safe enough now," James says in his normal voice, sounding both happy and relieved. Pamela hardly pays him any attention, momentarily enjoying the fact that the wide road allows the sun a chance to reach her easily. Yes, that was definitely the problem. "Pam, we've got to keep moving," he prompts again after a moment.
"Yes," she says faintly, before turning to him and smiling. "But first I should thank you for getting me out of there," she adds, her tone as grateful as any princess addressing the knight in shining armor who saved her from the dragon. Cupping his face gently in her hands, she gives him a tender kiss before they turn to start following the road.
Only a few moments later he slows, holding a hand to his forehead, "Just a moment, I..."
"Have a headache? Blurred vision? Muscle weakness? Lethargy?" she lists off as she continues walking as if nothing was amiss. He blinks in surprise at the woman now walking away from him. "Must have been the lip gloss," she comments without turning around or slowing, "Thanks for helping me find my purse before we left, by the way. But I'm afraid you're just not my type." She doesn't so much as spare a glance behind her as Peter (or whatever his name is) slumps to the ground.
Instead she continues to follow the road, certain that it will lead her to a more populated part of the city where she can catch a ride home or something. But then again, she hasn't the slightest idea how many people are looking for her.
|
|
|
|
Post by tiff on Sept 18, 2011 20:32:38 GMT -5
He'd read files, he'd memorized reports, and he wanted to see the subject codenamed Ghast in action himself, and by himself. Mathew Tiffany silently drove the sleek, black SUV into the dockyards following reports of criminal activity. He kept his eyes on the road, refusing to look at the thing in the seat next to him. In his opinion, Ghast is not a human being, he's an abomination, the devil in a clever guise (and morbid one at that). All creatures would bow down to God and he would keep an eye on Ghast, the devil only worked until it no longer satisfied him. Then he would do as he pleased. He'd seen the words on the corpse's forehead. Sinner, Demon, Lucifer.
"This is just routine, I want to see you at work." He explained, still not even allowing his eyes to flicker to the creature beside him. "That's simple enough for you to understand, I'm sure."
And he wanted to see him away from his handler, his previous conversations with the woman had left him displeased. She seemed too forward, too confident, too...masculine for him. She didn't understand her place. She thought she knew where she belonged, but she didn't even have enough mind to recognize his authority. That is the curse of woman; she wanted more than her place, that was their whole problem. Little Eves thought they could wind you about their fingers.
|
|
|
|
Post by ghast on Sept 18, 2011 21:31:59 GMT -5
Warren wasn't exactly pleased to be breathing the same air as the man. He knew from just the looks he was receiving that This agent showed nothing but hate for him. Typical. It mattered not, because hopefully the man would lose control of the Suv and flip it into a ditch and kill the both of them. In fact he was counting on it. A merely being belligerent in the fact of breaking the law and not wearing a seatbelt. What was the point? It was meant to save lives, Warren had plenty to lose.
"I may look dead but my brain's not, Jack-ass", Ghast retorted to the comment about it being simple enough for him to understand. Who in the hell did thus guy think he was just demanding to take him on a mission alone. An what the hell was Lyssa's problem by just letting him. The words themselves were of an uncommon breed of insult for him. Normally it was about his appearance not his mental abilities. If anything this guy needed to get off his high horse and quit flinging bibles around at everyone.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Sept 18, 2011 23:07:08 GMT -5
Pamela continues walking down the road, putting as much distance between the place she was held captive and herself as her sluggish legs can give her - though the sunlight and ability to stretch her legs is already making her feel a lot better.. She's probably an odd sight, still wearing the same skimpy dress that she'd worn to the charity auction that she was kidnapped from and slightly disheveled from not being able to fix herself back up properly since. Still, she's way too overdressed for this part of town.
She glances up when she spots a vehicle coming down the road but is only moderately concerned about that. While the odds of randomly getting shot are a lot higher in this part of town than elsewhere, someone looking like her is much more liable to get questioned just to see if she's worth something alive first. And in any event, she's sure that if any criminals come after her, she's unlikely to end up in a situation worse than the one she just escaped. Then again, as she's a member of Gotham's elite and has been completely out of the loop for the past few days she's blissfully unaware of the pace that the FBI has been setting in getting questionable people off the street.
Instead she just keeps walking, as if it's perfectly ordinary for her to be here. She's more inclined to wait until she's in a better part of town before she starts soliciting help, and if she's lucky whoever's in this vehicle will ignore her. The odds may be against it, but it's worth a shot at least. And she can afford to feel overconfident anyway since she has her purse with her.
|
|
|
|
Post by tiff on Sept 19, 2011 0:12:29 GMT -5
Tiff kept both hands on the wheel and turned to glare at Ghast. "You will not speak that way to me. You and your Handler need to learn to control your attitudes. And you especially your mouth, at least Agent Anders knew not to speak when I forbid her to accompany us." He was not going to be disrespected by this beast, a point he made clear by his leer. He did not look at the road, but instead kept his gaze steady and unforgiving.
"Demon."
|
|
|
|
Post by ghast on Sept 19, 2011 0:30:05 GMT -5
Warren just met the glare with a wicked grin. He was slightly amused that someone had called him a demon. His first handler use to call him that as a pet name. So to Warren there was no insult. "I hate to break it to ya but respect is earned not given. And you can thank our employer for how I am, I was weaponed to kill not sit and talk in little political tea parties. An I'm not the only one that needs to learn some, Tiffany. Last time I checked were on the same Damn side.
Warren caught a glance of something out of the corner of his eye. "Twenty extra points if you can keep her shoes in the same spot Clearly this man had some priority issues.
|
|
|
|
Post by tiff on Sept 19, 2011 0:46:15 GMT -5
He had a rebuke all thought out, about how it was a two-way street and how Ghast had yet to earn that from him, but it was the second comment that took those words from his mouth. He turned his head to stare at the road, and abruptly spun the wheel to his left in order to miss the woman he had been barrel at a speed of over 40 miles an hour at. Damn, that creature and his distraction!
|
|
|
|
Post by ghast on Sept 19, 2011 1:06:32 GMT -5
Warren continued to smirk at the man even when the Suv took a sharp left. Those things were not made to pull maneuvers like that. When the suv veered, the front right tire stopped moving. The went into the front passenger side wheel well pulling the Suv into pavement. Warren knew what was going to come and bothered not to brace for it. The front right corner of the car hit first, causing the windshield to crack and shatter. Warren was effectively dragged across the pavement until the material of his sleeve ripped from the shredded bloody mess that was now his right side. The nails in his hand sparking against the pavement.
He blinked a few times before he sat up looking at the continuing skidding suv with Tiffany still inside.
"well that was fun. He said lowly to himself sarcastically. All the while thinking that Lyssa was not going to be pleased by this at all. The just about the entire right side of his torso and arm looked about the equivalent to raw hamburger freshly ground in blood. One hell of a road rash. The socket joint of his shoulder could be seen in its now maroon covered pale bone. his elbow matched and the top of his hip bone was jutted out as well through the skin.
He did however get up and walk over to the Suv to check on Tiff. He leaned over to look through the now capsized car in the driver side window. "Did I get lucky and you die?'
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Sept 19, 2011 1:24:10 GMT -5
Pamela has little time to react when the SUV she was ignoring fails to curve away from her like she was expecting it to. By the time she sees that it's too late for that, any move on her part that would have saved her would require more reflexes than she has at the moment. Fortunately, the driver of the vehicle swerves at the last moment. 'Fortunately' for her anyway, since it appears that it was a most unfortunate thing for the vehicle.
She can only stand and stare blankly at what follows - seeing the heavily injured passenger and the toppled vehicle. Seriously, where did that man learn to drive? It's not as if she was walking in the middle of the road or anything like that. Even after the initial shock wears off she simply stands there - it's not like she has any emergency training. Or at least, that's what she'll say if she's asked.
|
|
|
|
Post by tiff on Sept 19, 2011 1:51:15 GMT -5
The world had spun and was still spinning for Tiff. He could only stare at Warren a moment as the disorientation wore off, and when it did he wished he was back in that state. His eyes certainly weren't drawn to the man's face, instead they trailed down his body and were met with blood, shredded flesh that hung off muscle like strips of beef (that made him gag) and bone. He turned his head away, closing his eyes. He would be sick, he would not be sick.
Ghast couldn't have a soul, no as child the devil must have blessed him. Or and he gasped, he was the rider of Death...the one with a pale horse who brought hell with him. He swallowed, could Ghast be an angel? That sign of the apocalypse?He had walked away from the crash, bloody and battered, and yet...Tiff reached out unsteadily and opened the door before releasing his safety belt. He climbed from the wrecked vehicle, head still slightly swimming, but he was able to regain himself swiftly.
"I'm fine," he told Ghast gruffly and began to search the road for the figure of the woman, who he saw standing in the road, transfixed on the scene. "Stay here." He said to Ghast and moved forward. What was she doing here? This was no place for a woman and already that made him suspicious. His gun was welcome weight at his side.
"Miss? You shouldn't be out here. I'm going to have to bring you in for questioning." And in Gotham now...there were no rights. She would be taken, without evidence because she was walking in a dangerous part of the city. It didn't matter if she was victim or not, everyone and anyone would be suspected of ill-will.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Sept 19, 2011 2:17:17 GMT -5
Pamela only snaps out of that blank stare when she notices the driver of the vehicle notice her. Her expression is confused at first when he talks to her, but then she blinks and she asks, "Quest- you mean you're the police?" A look of intense relief crosses her face as she adds, "Oh, thank God! I know that this is going to sound crazy, but my name is Pamela Isley, and I was kidnapped. I think it was three days ago - I'm not sure, they kept me in a warehouse and I couldn't really tell. But I managed to escape and I was just trying to find my way back to somewhere that I could get some help. I was worried that you were criminals - I have no idea where we are but this does not look like a good place to be." Her tone is equal parts naive, fearful, and worry - just an innocent woman who's glad that a terrible situation is over.
Of course, that's only on the outside. Carefully concealed on the inside she's stewing, noting quickly that he jumped right to telling her that she's going to be questioned. That in and of itself is not a worry - she's been grilled multiple times in situations where she can claim far less innocence than this before and come out unscathed. Nobody can fully cooperate with an investigation and lead the investigators astray quite like her. No, what she's worried about is the abruptness of it all - that can't be good, no matter what reason there is for it.
|
|
|
Last Edit: Sept 19, 2011 17:13:21 GMT -5 by tiff
|
Post by tiff on Sept 19, 2011 2:53:19 GMT -5
He knew that name. He recalled the reports of her kidnapping. He also knew about her from Police Reports, that she had toxic blood, but he showed no fear. He would be protected as long as he had faith. He looked about the area as he stepped towards her. There was nothing out of the ordinary, other than her.
"If you have nothing to hide, then the questioning will be routine, we do it for everyone he explains, that doesn't seem to be their right place."
|
|
|
|
Post by ghast on Sept 19, 2011 3:29:28 GMT -5
Warren rolled his eyes at the order to stay where he was but decided that it was inwardly for the better. No one was really supposed to know that he even existed. He reluctantly leaned against the wreck. Wondering how they were now even going to get back with out this making local news. He worried not about his injuries. In fact his in ability to feel pain allowed him to have above average strength. The ability to take his body three times farther then most humans, because he lacked the response mechanism that stopped his mind from allowing him to cause harm. In the same token it destroyed his body as well. pulling muscles and tendons past the breaking point.
He let his head fall to one side as he watched Tiff almost (much to his disamusement) vomit and then approached the lady he almost hit an possibly could have earned a un renounced 40 points. He caught clips of the conversation before he looked up and shouted a bit of wisdom.
"Hey Nascar. How are we going to go any where? The Suv was totaled.
|
|
|
|
Post by Pamela Isley - Poison Ivy on Sept 19, 2011 4:16:10 GMT -5
Nodding easily to the man, Pamela puts on an obviously faltering brave face as she says, "Yes, of course - I heard before all of this happened that the criminals were finally being cleaned up, so that only makes sense. I'd be happy to answer any questions you have - especially about Nightwing. After what he did to me and those poor people at the museum, he deserves to be locked up forever." Or at least the rest of the week. He'd die from her poison with no possible way to connect it back to her, her problems with him would be permanently solved, and she won't have to actually lift a finger. She suppresses a grin at that thought, carefully keeping her expression that of a mildly distressed innocent.
And she doesn't look the least bit nervous about his approach, though her eyes drift over to the beat-up man who speaks then. Apparently she has a stronger stomach than Agent Tiff, in spite of her 'innocence', though her expression shifts to one of disgust at the appearance of his injuries. Parts of that look even worse than the bad half of her ex-boyfriend at the moment!
|
|
|
Last Edit: Sept 19, 2011 19:09:33 GMT -5 by tiff
|
Post by tiff on Sept 19, 2011 17:13:00 GMT -5
His lips only twitched in displeasure at Ghast's words. He felt hot shame creep up his neck, flushing his cheeks, but he didn't speak to him. Didn't even turn his head to acknowledge him, at least not first. Instead he squelched thoughts about if someone had had the foresight to not call him a Jackass when he was just doing as he had been told, being only the servant he was meant to be, maybe that wouldn't have happened. Yet this wasn't vocalized; he just took a deep breath and addressed Pamela in a professional, albeit interested tone. Any information on the villainous rogues or their hardly better vigilante counterparts, who thought the law was a toy to mess with and who made a habit of challenging the orders of the glorious government of the United States of America would be helpful.
He nodded to her, “Your cooperation will be much thanked,” he told her and then and only then did come to answer Ghast's irritating observation. “I will need to call in for another vehicle, but as long as you're with myself and him,” he gestured to Warren, “you'll be fine, Miss Isley. I'm Agent Tiff. Ghast,” he again introduced Warren.
|
|