2014.4.2:Ivan
| Ivan | |
|---|---|
| Ivan the Not-So-Terrible | |
| IC Date | Thursday |
| IC Time | 3:00 PM |
| Players | Velok (Storyteller) and Locke and November |
| Location | Kerch, Crimea, Ukraine |
| Prp/Tp | The Usurping of Ukraine |
| Spheres | Changeling and Demon and Mage |
Log
(Enter Locke and November)
Once the plane landed in Turkey, the hard part began. Never mind that the plane had to stop twice for fuel, and by fuel I mean MORE FOOD, but they certainly made it. Hopefully well rested, the trio depart the plane and head immediately towards the pre-arranged boat. "This country blows." Velok's quick to comment as the boat starts up and they start to head across the black sea. Ukraine is cold, and the sea doesn't help that at all, but anyone taking a look around can see a surprisingly large military buildup. Russian destroyers casually dot the water, as if the whole sea was just a marina. They are, amusingly, 'challenged' by the Ukrainian navy, much smaller by comparison, but no one at least is firing shots yet. The stage is set for another global conflict, but no one's fired the first shot. Despite a close call with a patrol boat, the team goes undetected, and lands in Kerch.
"I'll go find where he is, and text you. I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a girl who knows a surprisingly spunky puppy that should know where everyone is." Velok says, handing November the picture of Ivan (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/3/33/Lundgren_Ivan_Drago.jpg) before disappearing. It takes about an hour of November and Locke getting to do whatever they want, before November's phone beeps. "Traktir na Pyatnitskoy" Is all the first message says, then the beep happens immediately afterwards with another message. "Pyatnitskoy is the street name. Traktir is tavern. I hate this fucking country. <3" November, not long after, gets one more text message. "Also? The puppy is an asshole. I'm glad we're getting a cat."
Fucking cold. That's what it is. November is a teeny, tiny, itty bitty girl. She's COLD. Very cold. She bundles herself up in all sorts of things there on the plane and on the boat.. well.. she doesn't BITCH exactly, but she isn't happy. Her only comment, "And I thought Indiana got cold. At least it wasn't wet, too." She doesn't seem to have any problem with language. She speaks in English to them, but they seem to have no problem at all understanding her. She could be a native speaker, for all they know. Now, whether that actually helps or not, who the fuck knows, but at least there is no language barrier. She reads the first text. "The fuck does that mean?" Then, "OH. Okay." So she relays the information and takes a deep breath. "So we need to find the Track-teer tavern on Peeatnitskoy street." She sends a smiley to Velok and looks up at Locke, then up at the signs. "Should I ask for directions?"
Locke doesn't seem to make much fuss about the cold... the man seems to enjoy the cold which is the oddest part of it all. Heck he seems to be used to it! For living in Southern California it doesn't make a whole lot of sense but there is a lot of that going around. He wanders down the streets with his hands in his pockets, the crunch of snow under foot while he follows after November like some kind of chaparone. When she speaks he eyes her for a couple minutes as if he's not sure just what in the hell she's talking about before giving a shrug of the shoulders, "Well... unless we use google maps." He offers to her as if that's totally a valid way to go about it rather then talking to people. People are gross you know. He takes a deep breath of that crips air before turning his eyes toward November, "Up to you if you want to. But if they send us on a wild goose chase then it's your fault and you're picking up the bartab." Cause apparently there is going to be more then questions at the tavern.
Kerch has seen better days. While most of the protests and the riots happened elsewhere in the country, Kerch itself seems to have taken a pretty brutal beating. While they walk, they pass numerous pairings and triplets of special forces soldiers with no markings. The soldiers pay them absolutely no attention at all, but it would be very easy to assume that the region is under martial law...or occupation. Fitting that it's a former soviet country. A couple people don't even stop and keep rushing away from the two, though one old woman does stop and stare at November. She's about the same tiny height, but she looks back. <<Yea!>> She says back in bitter Russian dialect. <<Is shitty place, that way.>> She points off towards a cross street. <<Very close. Mean men but...You no go there.>> The old woman shakes her head several times. <<Is military pub now. Occupied. Mean men. Mean. I hit them with my purse.>> She holds up her purse and shows November eagerly, as if November was the first person to actually talk to the poor woman. <<Full of Rocks, but they don't know.>> She winks and continues off.
If the two happen to head the way she pointed, they'd pretty soon find the tavern. It's a cozy looking place with no bouncer and a closed door.
November spends a couple of moments talking to the woman. She even admires her batting skills with the purse. Once that's all done, she translates for Locke. SHE never stopped speaking English and the woman never spoke Russian. THat's kinda odd, but whatever, right? SO information relayed, she looks like she's going to head that way. Oh, also, under some layer or other, November has her sexy ass sword. Of course she does.
What happens when the little old lady talks? Locke just nods his head, yup total understanding. He just nods to November when she translates like he totally didn't need it... but did need it at the same time. It's a look only a belligerent man can pull off really and what would Locke be without that? Pfft, swords who needs a sword! Locke brought his stick! Which he was very strict about no one else touching. Not even a little. Strapped to his back (cause HE'S HAD IT THE WHOLE TIME) he never seems to walk with the... walking stick, but whatever there is more oddness then that. He looks over to November and offers, "Don't screw with the soliders." It's a simple bit of advise which would seem rather 'Captain Obvious' but for the way he says it. There is a slight tension when he even mentions that last word as if he expects it to set them off while they wander down the street.
The bitter chill in the air bites against the pair. As they wander down the street, a large truck turns the corner. It's a military troop transport truck, giving off a rather loud rumbling as another turns the corner and follows it. And then another. Aaaand then another. Each truck is carrying about 10 soldiers in those unmarked uniforms, cloth balaclava making only the eyes visable for each one. The four trucks are followed by a very distinct metal grinding noise, then a long metal barrel comes down the cross street, quickly followed by metallic treads. It's...yep. It's a tank. The trucks slow as the tank very slowly makes the turn, then a jetting of black smoke puffs out of the exhaust and the tank proceeds along the convoy. When the two near the tavern, any attempt to step inside is immediately interrupted by the door quickly swinging outwards. Two soldiers step out with two AK-12's hanging on their front, hands idly resting on them. November and Locke get brown eyeed stares before the two step off to the side, allowing Locke and November to enter the tavern, should they wish.
"Don't fuck the soldiers. Got it." She snuggles herself a little further into her dead baby seal unicorn leather fourteen geese leprechaun rare endangered <now extinct. Thanks, November> fox fur coat that SHOULD be ZOMGwarm.. but it just makes her aware of how much colder her feet are.. and heads on through. She offers a polite smile to the guards and looks up at Locke like HE's in charge, then waits for them to be admitted to the pub. Once they're inside, she steps away just a little bit and murmurs VERY softly, "Do we know what we're loooking for yet?"
Locke tilts his head to the side while watching her for a couple long moments as she tries to hide in that coat he just adjusts the strap across his shoulder and heads into the tavern with her. There is a nod give to the soldiers out front but he doesn't seem to be pausing. Always act like you're suppose to be there 9 out of 10 times people will think you do. When the men move off to the side he nods his head toward November as if she's suppose to follow him and he slips into the doors letting them close behind him his own benie is tugged off his head once inside... it's a black one, not a red one.. that one is tucked neatly in his jacket where it stays until someone pisses him off. Looking back over his shoulder to November he eyes her a couple moments, "You're the one with the pic space cadet." Nodding toward her pocket, "Pull it out and lets see if we can find this Ivan dude."
The soldiers just stare. They're really really really good at staring, and they stare. They don't talk, weirdly enough, but they stare. The tavern itself looks exactly like how the old lady describe it. A shithole. Tables look like they were built in the 1700's, along with chairs. The bar is at least 1800's, for sure, with an old looking fat gross bartender behind it. There's a faint musk of cigar smoke that weighs heavy on the air, attributed to a few tables that have various civilians that are smoking. There's about 7 soldiers lounging about at various tables, their masks pulled down to reveal some men and some women. They speak in very hushed tones, but anyone that comes close would hear Russian. The oldness of the tavern is in stark contrast to the newest of things, several hi definition TV's sit upon walls and behind the bar, some tuned in to soccer matches, and some tuned in to what looks like news programs with cryptic writing scrawling across the screen. Out of the civilians, practically NONE of them look like the picture November was given, 1 old man is sitting with 1 fat man at a table, 1 seems like he just got out of highschool is sitting with a young woman, and then there's a man in the corner.
This man has seen better days, obviously. His cheeks are chubby, hair growing this way and that. He looks like a man who previously has taken several poundings and has decided to just let himself go. On the table in front of him is 5 empty beer pitchers, and the man is just lounging around in the corner all by himself.
Well once they're inside it's quite the charming place. Locke isn't unused to such establishments in the slightest. The man sets his 'don't fuck with me (intimidation 3)' look on his face and starts wandering through the tavern heading toward the bar, "Common, November. You need a short hand by the way. Or I'm going to start calling you Member." He tells her with a chuckle rolling from himself, he amuses himself at least! His eyes flit through the bar but he can't seem to place the picture to someone in there and then he's starting to doubt that SOMEONE did recon properly! He can't even order a damn drink in this place without November so it's up to her to do the talking as his hands are shoved back into his pockets again with a low grunt of annoyance. This was suppose to be the easy part of the job.
Locke may have the Don't Fuck With Me look. November has a look that says 'Please don't hurt me.' <Innocent.> "How about Nova. Or Ember." She says this quietly and slinks herself up against Locke, sticking close. It isn't an intimate thing. Not by a long shot. He would be pretty easy to hide under/near/in his pocket. The less they are noticed, the better, right? She eyes everyone, everything, taking notice of the man sitting by himself. She glances briefly at her phone one more time, just to be sure and then leads/is led up to the bar where she orders a couple of beers in her non-threatening, perfectly natural, I belong here tone.
Any new entrance to the tavern is going to get looks, and that's what Locke and November get. All of the soldiers take special notes of the pair, but Locke's intimidation seems to work, as they look away a bit quicker than they should. Intimidation successful! In Velok's defense, he did say his source of information was a spunky puppy, and he seemed pretty dead serious when he said it. So recon is a pretty...loose word for what was done. Nevertheless process of elimination should help them out with that. The combination seems to confuse most of the soldiers. Locke is intimidating, which makes them a little tense but backed down, and then November is innocent, which makes them relaxed and powerful. The bartender doesn't seem to care any which way, just trying to survive. Several of the beers are put down on the bar, but he doesn't even ask for money, just moving away and wiping the bar down without saying a word.
Locke chuckles when she offers those words to him, "I dunno, I kinda like my thought." He offers back toward her with that amused grin pulling at his lips while they head up toward the bar waiting for the bartender to head over he looks back toward Novemeber and says, "Can you get him to tell us where the dude is at? Cause I don't see him and Velok sucks at recon." OH YA! He said it! Leaning forward his hands on the top of the bar as he takes that slow breath in before letting it out trying not to let the... aroma bother him too much. His head turns this way and that though as he looks over the whole of the tavern still trying to pin down where this man could be hiding before tacking on, "Or possibly when this guy shows up so we can go wait for him elsewhere."
November shakes her head. "Call me that and you'll find yours missing," she says goodnaturedly, keeping herself nice and close and small. She leans on the bar, coming up to her tippytoes to make her.. you know.. five two. "Excuse me," she says when the bartender comes around again. "We're supposed to be meeting Ivan. Do you know him?" She offers up the picture briefly, along with a nice, large bill. <Because Aleksei's rich and he's funding this gig and you don't go into stuff like this without cash to fling around.> She doesn't make a big deal of it. It's the whole 'Oh, I'm his niece and I'm just meeting him here. Could you help me please' sort of tone.
The bartender does come around. He doesn't speak English, nor does he have any idea at all who Velok is, so he can't call Locke a biggidy bitch. Instead he looks November directly in the eyes, leaning forward on the bar to get a very obvious, not at all modest peek at her chest. <<Yea, I know him>> There's a gruff laugh and the bartender shakes his head. <<He certainly doesn't fucking look like /that/ anymore. That was his glory days.>> The laugh lets him smack his hand down on the bar...directly over the money. When she looks again, his hand is retrieved, and the money is gone. He makes a gesture with his head towards the lonely man with all the beers in front of him. <<Dude comes in here all the time, and never shuts up. NEVER. Also pretty lonely, so I'm pretty sure a girl that looks like you will be a welcome sight in his life.>> The bartender looks over to Locke, scowling a bit. Intimidation doesn't have a happy tone for him. <<Him...not so much. Tell your dad to smile more.>> The bartender waits and, if Locke doesn't do anything, goes back to what he's doing.
Locke grins back toward November when she offers those words to him in turn though that seems to be all about it for now as his attention drifts back toward the bartender as he speaks. The man really is starting to hate this country. Not because it's cold, or violent, or the center of the looming world war three... nope it's the fuckers that speak this gibberish! It's bullshit that's what it is. Locke doesn't know what the man said or he'd might had to have sent him back where he came from, it's good to be a Redcap. Eyes turning back toward November then looking toward the direction picking up on the gesture at least he asks the girl next to him, "That our guy?"
November frowns slightly at the bartender, then looks down at her camera, then over toward the man. Really? Sigh. She nods, offering the man a pleasant, even happy smile. "I didn't even see him over there. Oh, my goodness!" Like she recognised him. No, really. She nods up to Locke and heads over that way at a casual, but straightforward step.
Turns out, the picture Aleksei gave Velok and Velok gave November was of Ivan's glory days, and those days are long, long, LONG gone. The man is mumbling in Russian something inconsequential when the pair walk up, and immediately he looks up towards them. Locke hears "poshel na khui!" but November hears it much clearer. "Fuck off!" That seems to be poor Ivan's default reaction to anyone that comes up to him, because immediately afterwards he seems to notice they aren't people he recognizes. "No wait. You are hot." He says, this time in Russian accented English, staring directly at November. His head continues to sway back and forth, those eyes keep focused on the little nothisniece. "Very hot." He adds on, then turns his eyes towards Locke. His lips part, and it's clear Ivan is missing a couple teeth. Probably knocked out earlier in his years. "What do you want?"
Locke looks back over toward Ivan a brow arched for a moment as he dwells on man's antics when he speaks staring at her he does his best to play nice though when he gets the clipped answer. He could attempt to bend his will probably wouldn't take too much but he doesn't want to deal with the trouble of it. He slips his hands into his pockets again before looking back to November best to let her speak rather then ask first and have him lock up about it. So he doesn't say a word just yet while he watches them.
Indeed. Old picture. November stares at the man blankly for a moment, trying to reconcile old and new. Finally, she smiles and slides into the seat across from him, putting on her very, very best smile for the man. "Ivan? Finally! We've been looking for you for... so long." She lets out a happy little sigh and looks up over her shoulder at Locke. "Isn't that right?" She looks back to him, crossing her arms over one another on the table. "My name is Nova Lewis. I'm SO glad to finally meet you."
Ivan leans back in his seat. He's apparently not too happy with that position, as he then leans forward towards November. Apparently that's not very comfortable either, so he leans BACK against his chair. Squirmy little fucker. "Is that so? Well, you've found me, sexy lady." That lackofteeth smile comes back, before his eyes stare up towards Locke. The smile is gone, and there's a bit of a scowl. He quickly looks back to November and nods a few times. "My name is Ivan, but you can call me whatever you want." He looks towards her hands, then back to November's face. "Do you want an autograph?" He seems surprised, but ecstatic, nodding. "It's from a while ago, yes, but I still look a bit like that!" He burps rather loudly, distinct ale smell coming out. Gross.
Locke eyes the man for a few long moments as he stands there behind November starting to weigh his options of just how useful ol' looney toons here is. The scowling doesn't seem to do anything for his mood while he shifts his arms a bit on his chest letting them resettle as he lets out a low rumble toward November the words quiet for her to hear not wanting Ivan to hear the, 'Less get the shit and go' comment he makes to her not wanting to stay any longer here then they have to. His eyes flick out across the rest of the military filled bar as he shifts his weight on his feet to a more comfortable stances while he lets November do the talking.
"I'd love one, yes!" November exclaims, reaching into her pocket to grab a pen. Too many years waiting tables. Of course she has a pen. She grabs a napkin and slides it over to him. "I do have a question for you, though." She leans forward just a little bit, folding her hands together on the table. "You have access to a little piece of information that I desperately need."
Ivan's eyes flick back and forth between Locke and November. It becomes increasingly clear that Ivan isn't a man that gets company often, as he seems to be lapping up the chance to talk to November and Locke. Ivan doesn't catch what Locke commented, though he very clearly doesn't look at where Locke looks. The rest of the soldiers in the bar don't seem to be paying too much attention to Locke, though the man can catch a few odd glimpsed. Variously eyes will flit over towards Ivan's table, linger, then jerk away a little too quickly and suspiciously. The general mood of the soldiers was relaxed when Locke and November slipped in, but now Locke can see that things are the tiniest bit more tense for whatever reason. Maybe because the two clearly don't look like normal Ukrainians.
November's leaning in lets her get a closer look at Ivan, who reaches forward and takes the pen. His hand is shaking very very slightly as he retrieves it. Though he's smiling, the twitches at the side of his mouth might show that perhaps it's not as real as it seems. Very occasionally his eyes will flit over to his peripheral vision, then back to November. "Wonderful, wonderful." He doesn't write on the napkin, taking the photo she dropped down and scribbling a large sprawling name in the corner. "Is it my size? Bigger than anyone you've seen. Is it my phone number? You can have that too." He scribbles some numbers down underneath his name with a big ole' heart around them. "Your friend looks tense." He says, glancing towards Locke and peering at him. "Perhaps you should sit down, relax. Have a beer." He returns his gaze to November, that smile widening a bit more. "Did you chop your friends balls off and lose them? I won't know where those are."
Locke takes a look toward the others that fill the bar and his expression goes from flat to 'I will peel your face off and eat it while you scream' as he leans forward slightly eyes narrowed his words growled out toward Ivan, "Who the fuck are you talking about, drunk?" He snaps back toward him with the crack of knuckles as they tighten. Breathing in slowly as he lets it out this neck snaps as he tilts it to the side, "I ain't in the mood for a pissing contest." He says while the Redcap leans forward slowly eyes remain locked back upon him as he lets out a slow breath keeping himself calm as glares back to the man, "Keep your fucking comentary to yourself." Straightening back up again his arms fold across his chest as he waits for him to answer November's question once he's made his point.
Good cop, bad cop. See? LOCKE is the big bad man. November is the soft spoken, INNOCENT, sweet little girl who only wants to ask the man a question. She looks up at Locke. Even she can't help but wince just a little teeny tiny itty bitty bit. She looks back to Ivan and shakes her head just a little bit. "He's very sensitive about his genitals," she offers quietly. She looks the man in the eyes and those strange shifting colors within seem to dance hypnotically. "What he meant to say," she murmurs to him softly, is "Where is the Zykov Family's vault? <<Tell me where the vault is in perfect detail.>> Please."
Ivan's eyes focus squarely on Locke as the man starts to lean in, and Ivan's eyes go /wide/. He tries to start leaning back and away from Locke the closer he gets. Despite being a former heavyweight boxer and Russian, Locke wins, and that chair tips back. The look of fear on Ivan's face is fairly priceless, one might even suspect pants to be soiled. That fear translates directly to November when he turns to look into her eyes, becoming rather mesmerized. He hears the words, quite clearly, resonating in his head. Unfortunately with Locke leaning in and Ivan leaning back and November hypnotically demanding, the chair tips and Ivan loses his balance, falling backwards and crashing to the floor. His leg bumps the table, causing the glasses to rattle a bit but not fall over (That would be a waste of beer.)
The sudden gruffness of Locke draws quite a bit of attention, as well as Ivan falling backwards. Several of the soldiers whip their heads over and stare at the table, most of the conversation dying out at the commotion. They stare, though many aren't looking at Locke, but are watching Ivan. Only the soldiers seem to care, the bartender and what few civilians are left going about their business very quickly. Ivan scrambles a little bit on the floor, reaching a battered hand up to cling at the edge of the table and pull himself up, resettling his chair. As he does so he finally glances over towards the soldiers, that look of fear maintaining as he resits in the seat. November's evocation works, and almost entrancingly "Frabrychna St. In house 3359. Behind Bookshelf. Down stairs. Left Right Left through Door." He responds, staring directly into November's eyes. While he seems fairly entranced, as he says it, a tear wells up in his right eye, starting to break the boundry and fall down towards the table. The commotion caused the Ambiance to die down, and Ivan isn't exactly muttering, so it's reasonable to assume the words could have carried.
Locke nods his head one as he lets out a slow breath, content with the fact that he got his attention though he looks at his hand for a moment with a frown pulling at his lips. Fortunately for him Nova isn't looking when he curls a single finger back before dropping his hand. Looking back to Ivan when the man says those words in the silence of the room and he lets out a quiet, "Shit. We should go. Before they get any more curious then they are." He points out back to Nova while his eyes flick to the nearest table of shoulder and gives them the single upward head nod, guy speach. Attention turning back toward the pair at the table before him while he waits for November to wrap things up so he can drag her off and out from the place. "Send that text too." He offers the thought. Worst comes to worst and the third member goes after whatever it is while they're busy.
November blinks at Ivan as he falls and she moves like she's going to help him up. When he gets up on his own, she says, "Are you sure you're okay?" Like there's real concern there. There isn't. She starts to get up and turn away when Locke speaks, but she turns back to Ivan. "<<Forget our faces>>." She says this with a wink and pulls her phone out of her pocket, snatching up the picture. She shoots off a text. "Boris will be so excited that I got to meet him. He'll be mad, though," she says, shooting off a text as she heads out with Locke
Most of the bar goes back to what it was doing except for the table Locke looked at. The three masked soldiers are all staring directly at Ivan until one of them nods. "Da." One of them manages to say. All three look towards November for a moment, then away. As Locke and November start to move away, Ivan continues to stare straight ahead. "I have failed, he will find it now." He says quietly, reaching forward towards the beer glass and bringing it up towards his lips. His hand is shaking, and he takes several sips from it. When Locke and November near the door, that's when all three of the soldiers stand up from the table. One of the soldiers unclips his sidearm from his belt, pulling it from his holster and taking several steps towards Ivan. All three of the soldiers stare towards the drunken former boxer as the main one approaches Ivan. The bar hears Ivan saying 'prosti gospodi', but November hears it much clearer. "God forgive me," as the soldier starts to raise his arm to aim.
November hears the words, turns around, PEERS at the soldier who is raising the gun. "<<Protect that man with the gun pointed at his head at all costs.>>" She gives Locke a likely inneffectual shove in the opposite direction. She doesn't stick around to make sure that the command takes. She gives it an effort. She can honestly say that she tried to protect him.
Did someone leave the window open? Oh wait November is pushing him and Locke looks confused down at her but she seems to be trying to go his way so he just pushes the door open, when someone pulls a gun out the party is over. Dipshit should be looking for cover rather the being a little girl about it all! So he is heading out the door not having a clue what's about to happen but no doubt it's gonna get pretty ugly in there for a couple moments that much is obvious, no matter what happens there is about to be some blood splatters that start flying.
There's a bit of confusion amongst the ranks at November's command. About a third of what she wanted works, as the 'leader' turns to look towards November, as well as another soldier before the two of them are out the door. One soldier doesn't look, however, and the door closes just in time to hear a few things. *POP* goes one gunshot, then another immediately following, then three more, a very very girly scream, some yelling from a masculine voice in Russian followed by another gunshot, and then silence. Cold, bitter silence from inside the tavern. The gunshots were all loud, loud enough that the sound echos a bit along the street.
Well... what the fuck. November pauses and she turns her gaze back to the tavern, but unless Locke wants to go back, she keeps moving. She really did the best she could in the situation. With a frown, she keeps moving, not having a clue just yet where she's going TO
Locke looks back toward November with a small frown tugging at his lips. Whatever that is in reference to isn't spoken while he watches her for a few longer moments. After a moment though he turns and heads back down the streets the direction then came to where they ended up parting with Velok or whatever their meeting point was. Trudging through the snow at a quick pace to try and make their way back before anyone comes looking to see what all the shooting was about.
Once they're a good distance from the place, November stops and sighs. "I can't. We need to go back. Not like they'll remember us anyway. We'll be brand new faces."
It's been four minutes since they left the tavern with all the gunshots. There doesn't seem to be that increased of a military presence once they're back outside, though the same remnants of what they saw earlier remain. They've taken a couple sidestreets, but it's not very hard to remember where the tavern was. Just to add to the slightly somber mood, a very light snow starts to fall from the sky.
Locke just STARES back at November when she says that. "Are you -kidding- me? You're the one that shoved me out the door now they're all amped up and we have to walk in on a bunch of itchy trigger fingers." He mutters back down to her and he lets out a huff as he reaches into his jacket and tugs out his a benie but it's the same one from before. It looks like a fair price item for him their is even a little disign running around the bottom of it. Yet perhaps the most eye catching part is the color. It is a bright crimson red, it looks like the color of blood. Not the brownish dried gross color but that of thick, pumping life blood bled from a creature. Something about it just seems... off a bit. He tugs it into place on his head and tugs off his walking staff using it to 'navigate' through the snow and he stomps back toward the tavern.
"Well, you seemed like you were ready to leave." She sulks a bit, but she's already turning around, backtracking her way through the side streets. "They won't even recognise us. I'm sorry." She looks over and up.. up.. up at the man as he puts on his beanie cap and wrinkles her nose just a little bit. "Not sure that's your color. And I'm sorry. I'll speak up next time." She bumps up her pace to keep up with his stride.
The air grows a bit colder around the pair of them as they start trudging back. The streets are clear of the snow, but the sidewalks are still fairly covered by it, their footsteps given way to a slight crunching sound. The odd part is not necessarily what is going on nearby, but what is NOT going on nearby. Their entire walk back to the tavern, not a single siren has gone off. No police, no ambulance, no trucks, no tanks, no cars, and especially no people. It's eerie, especially considering the semblance of life they'd seen on their first trip up to the tavern.
When the pair approach the tavern, it still has some signs of life. There's still smoke coming out of the stack on the roof, and there are flickering lights coming out of the stained windows. AROUND the tavern there's a significant build up of snow, but coming from the door the snow is flattened. There's a very wide flattening of snow coming from the door and dragging along the sidewalk towards the alleyway. There's a red streak in the flattening, as if someone was dragging a body from the door towards the alleyway.
Locke lets out a snort at her words, "That is my color exactly." He tells her with a roll of the eyes, apparently she's utterly insane in his gaze. "Well next time you shove me out of a room have your damn mind made up." He tells her while stalking toward the door using his staff to find his footing while he goes though he makes his way toward the front he'll peek in through a window/crack in the door/nearest easily way to look and remain hidden from what could be inside. "Sure they'll still be amped to hell and back again though." He murmurs toward November quietly as he tries to get that peek.
"Well, I THOUGHT I had." She reaches beneath her jacket, down through the back of the collar and messes with.. something or other, adjusting it just a little bit. She leans up to peek in through the window as well, then nods to Locke. "Really sorry. This fucking cold. You know? I hate it. Makes me a little crazy." She glances over toward the blood and rakes her hand over her face. Dare she? Not yet. Not if she can get a good peek.
Oh shit, Schrodinger's Ivan. Locke peeking into the tavern would draw a fairly odd view. It looks pretty similar to what they were just in with a couple pretty extreme differences. For starters, the table is sideways and broken in half where Ivan was sitting, with no sign of Ivan. Another table where the soldiers were sitting is also there flipped onto its side. Oh, did I mention the blood? Yea, there's blood all over the floors. A dried up congealed pile of it near Ivan's table, and another near the soldier's table. From the pile near Ivan's table towards the door is a long red streak that tapers off the closer it gets to the door, then stops. The bartender is behind the bar, casually wiping at the bar as if nothing happened. The other half of the bar is not visable from Locke's hiding place.
Locke leans back against the wall as he looks the place over and he lets out a grunt doesn't look like that's a very useful view he looks back over to her and asks, "Front or back?" Yep, letting her pick which way she wants to go cause apparently she's getting blamed for it. He shifts across the front of the doors to try and peek in through the other window to see if anything is happening on the other side of the bar but from the look of the blood trail someone was drug out and not seem to have been alive during that dragging.
"I do love me some back door action," November snarks, following him, moving along to the other side for a peek before she continues on around toward the back, moving with a careful step, just about gliding along the ground when she slinks into predator hunter thingy mode. Once they're out of street view.. if that actually happens, she'll whip out her big-ass sword, struggling briefly to pull it up through the back collar of her coat and tucking it underneath, keeping her hand on it. But only if there aren't people around.
What does that Locke guy see when he peers into the other windows? Ivan is gone, and the three soldiers that stood up are gone, but thankfully there are three other soldiers at a different table! It's hard to tell if these are different soldiers or not given that their face is partially masked, and as we all know from super hero movies, once your cheekbones are disguised, no one can tell the difference. All three soldiers sitting at the table look completely clean, no blood or anything near them. They each have a clear pintglass of golden beer in front of them, but none of them have taken a sip.
The only way to the back of the tavern is through the alleyway. It's pretty easy to follow the streak of red through the alleyway towards a very large dumpster. The dumpster is closed with a padlock on it, though one half of the dumpster has disturbed snow on top, indicating it was recently used. Opening the back door to the tavern shows a long hallway with two obvious bathroom doors on either side. Curiously, a look towards the floor shows little red dots staining the otherwise nicely cleaned wood.
Well since the room seems to be clear of Ivan and those hostiles Locke heads to follow after where November went meaning to slip into the alley. Once he spots the dumpster a frown pulls at his lips and he looks back toward November when she pulls out that sword he just eyes her for a couple moments before motioning toward the lock on the dumpster. Apparently she got assigned 'break this' duty since all he seems to have is a stick. More like he doesn't want to have to summon his stuff if he's not going to use it. Waiting for her to check that out he peeks around toward the door that leads into the tavern but doesn't make move for it yet. If Ivan is in the dumpster then mission complete and he blames Nova. Totally the plan.
November isn't... very tall. She pulls out the sword and it... isn't a very scary sword. It's SUPPOSED to be a scary sword, but it isn't. She grabs the thing and holds it in both hands, muttering... something... and frowns. "Fucking sword," she mutters. She steps back a little bit and takes a swing
So the poor, innocent dumpster is there. It's just doing its job, minding it's business. Sure it has to deal with its fair share of vomit and gross trash, but overall it enjoys its life. Why shouldn't it? It provides a useful service. Of course, then NOVEMBER came. If inanimate objects could scream, the Dumpster would. Especially when it saw that sword. Instead it just stays there silent, probably shedding an imaginary tear. The first hit of the sword gets muffled by the snow on top of the lid, even as November hacks away at it to try and split it and allow it to bypass the metal bar. There's pretty loud WUF noise from the plastic being hit. The dumpster would probably laugh, but it's a dumpster. It sure does make her look badass when she pulls it out, though performance...B-. WHAP comes the second swing, this time seriously calling the plastic lids structural integrity into question. It takes one more swing before there's a big enough crack in the plastic that a manly man like Locke and November could pry the thing open.
Locke... Locke just stares while he watches November 'hack' at her the dumpster. "So... you just going to poke it or you actually going to cut it?" He asks her between the second and third swings of that sword at the dumpster. His head shakes a couple times and he moves over to yank on the plastic nad peel it away enough so she can peek into it, "The lock might have been easier." He murmurs to her quietly not wanting to be alerting everyone in the bar what's going on. Peeling enough of it back so that she can see if Ivan is in there or now, there has to be some body in there but just who that might belong to is the question.
November hacks away at the lid, apparently. MUCH more embarrassing than three hits to the lock. She wipes her brow and PEERS at the sword a time or two. "Fuck you too, buddy," she mutters, not to Locke, but the the sword. She flicks her hair back out of her face and leans up against the dumpster, because she's FUCKING SHORT and a BIG MAN like LOCKE might have done a much more effective job with the sword.
Some/body/, I'll say! When that plastic gets lifted back enough it provides a pretty nice opening for anyone to look into, or crawl into or reach into and drag things out if they're weird like that. Instantly upon the plastic being opened comes the wretched smell one might expect from a dumpster outside a tavern. Several flies pop out of the dumpster. What light shines in reveals pretty gross caked on sides of different various bodily fluids over the years. That smell gets mixed with a very strong smell of blood. Through some more workings and peerings, they'd see what they no doubt expected. The bottom layer has various assorted tavern garbage. The next layer up has two bodies. One is in the soldier uniform they've been seeing everywhere, except the mask is pulled up. This soldier is apparently a pretty hot...yet dead...blonde woman. Her hair is matted red and her open blue eyes are lifeless, staring across the back of the other body to the side of the dumpster. Various flies have landed on her face, and as the pair look, one decides to head up into her nose. Gross. The other body is face down next to the sideways one. The head is pressed down into a pile of discarded food waste. The back of the head shows matted, messy hair similar to their Ivan in the bar, messy and everything with a bit of blood on the back of the head. The clothing the man is wearing is brown, the same vest Ivan was wearing, except this time from the back. The pants are black...the same pants Ivan was wearing in the bar. The shoes...black...the same ones that yea-you-know-where-this-is-going. The man is pressed face down into a pile of garbage, and it looks like someone has kindly poured even MORE food waste onto the back of his vest. Banana peels, half-eaten meals, at least whoever brought the bodies out was nice enough to also bring out the trash.
Locke just keeps the plastic hauled back and out of the way for November to take that look at letting her peek in there, isn't he sweet? Letting her half climb up in to get a look at what's going on in there. He tries not to breath he doesn't want to smell the nasty ass dumpster but he does hold onto it long enough for her to get a look letting it drop back once she finally pulls back otherwise he'll just hold it, "Are you good or do we need to head inside?" He asks her with a tilt of the head his gaze lingering upon her.
The smell doesn't bother her, actually. Too many years hunting monsters. You don't even KNOW what got tugged out from under her trailer that day. She sighs quietly as she sees the man and shakes her head. "Gotta make sure." She hauls herself up even more, balancing her belly against the dumpster, feet dangling. She hauls up the man's head just as gently as she possibly can. Her problem isn't being grossed out. She's just not very strong. And that sucks. She's actually pretty damn weak. Then put her to dangling over the dumpster like that, it's just pretty sad.
It's almost just bad at this point, but at least November seems to have the right idea. Unfortunately, she apparently forgot balancing day. Never forget balancing day. Maybe it's a gust of wind, maybe it's a bump in the dumpster or Locke being evil. November is able to balance for a little bit on the dumpster, enough to reach down into it and try and grab at the face down man's head. Unbeknownst to her, it's not exactly snow, but ice. Only seconds after she's balanced precariously into the stretched out plastic does November realize she's made a terrible mistake. The center of gravity shifts, and into the dumpster slides November, face first into the pile of discarded pasta dish and spoiled meat. Somewhere in a galaxy far far away, Han Solo is saying 'And I thought they smelled bad on the outside!' because this trash can smells like the drunken vomit and spoiled food and recently dead bodies it's contained. She loses her grip on the man and his face plops back down into a squishy mess of discarded soup.
Locke rolls his eyes as she goes slipping through the hole pulling herself in rather then the dead body back. He reaches out another hand trying to snag her with the other hand meaning to haul her back by the back of her jacket/pants whatever he can really grab ahold of and yank her back with, "Oh for the love of all taht is good in this world, woman!" He calls down to her as his eyes roll seems she's losing quite a bit of street cred with the man after these last two displays!
November is VERY capable, dammit. She makes a squeak sound and she flails, shoving back from the dead body, but going down anyway. Yup. Going down. Down... "Mrphrfrkr," she mutters and jerks her feet in, maybe even just as Locke reaches to snag her, getting her feet under her and trying to keep her face from going into the... well... that doesn't work. "Well, goddamn it," she mutters, getting herself righted. "I just need to make sure it's him." Thank god for layers. Holy SHIT thank god for layers. She tugs the man's head up. Is it him? She hops out of the dumpster and pulls off that outer jacket and wipes her face with it, mumbling to herself. "I'm LITTLE."
Perhaps it's salt in the wound, or just an angry storyteller, but when November finally gets a chance to pull up the face down man, she comes to that awful stunning realization. It's not Ivan. It's certainly a man, one she doesn't recognize even though the eyes look familiar, but it's not Ivan. Just someone dressed in the same clothes as Ivan. It's easy to tell at least, so she can quickly start to jump out of that dumpster, but when she comes out of the dumpster she /reeks/, similar to someone that hasn't bathed in a while. Her clothes are wet from the various food products and other such mixtures, and even the most vigourous of self-brushing can't seem to get all the pieces off.
Hauling November back out of the dumpster and letting it drop closed and ya... he pretty much just tosses her back into the snow to clean up. "Want to head into the back and wash yourself off a bit?" He asks her, it might not help a LOT but really at this point every little bit helps as Locke studies her for a couple long moments. His head leans out looking around the corner toward the back of the place making sure no one is coming out of the door before his eyes turn back toward November to see just what it is that she is up to.
"It isn't him," says November as she picks up handfuls of snow, wiping it all over her face and in her hair. "Yeah. I'm going. Goddamn it." She tucks the sword back into its sheath. Surely she managed to NOT put that into the dumpster. That's her baby. Even if it did betray her and make her look stupid. So it's into the back door then.. quietly.
There doesn't look like anyone is coming, or anyone heard the sounds of a sword slamming against plastic, or anything. They seem to be pretty clear, despite finding out the two bodies in the dumpster isn't Ivan, just someone dressed up to look like Ivan. The back door opens without any problems showing November exactly what she saw before. The sword wasn't dropped into the dumpster, lucky for November. When she slips into the bathroom there's everything you'd expect from a unisex bathroom in a cheap tavern in a dirty part of the world. A toilet that doesn't look all that clean, a wastebasket next to it with what looks like used toilet paper, a sink with two knobs, and a cracked mirror above it. Not all the best way to get cleaned up.
Locke watches her for a couple moments as she tries to clean herself with that snow then heads into the bathroom. Ya, the Redcap doesn't stay outside though he doesn't really want to be seen by these people because he doesn't know what the hell it is that she did so best not to test it. Slipping into the bathroom after her he locks the door and leans back against it as his eyes settle upon November when he asks her, "Alright, you ready to head out to that place then?" He asks her with a tilt of the head as he thinks about it for a moment.
November tugs off a couple of layers, right down to just a tank top. She turns the outer layer inside out and gets it wet, then uses that to clean off her coat. The next layer down used to wipe her face off. She dunks her head under the sink to wash off as much of the funk as she can. Then... air dryer? PROBABLY not. She doesn't really care how she LOOKS.. so long as she's mostly clean. She gets all this done and puts back on whatever she can, making sure the sword is clean. Hood up. She'll freeze to death otherwise. "Ready," she says. "Let's go there.. then we'll find Ivan. He's being protected - clearly. That's good."
Inside the tavern seems fairly quiet, but their view from the hallway doesn't really allow them a great visability into it. The TV's are still on providing that idle mumbling of various news programs, and the clinking of glasses can be heard. No one comes back to the bathrooms though during their discussion.
