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.
