Closed RP Who's gonna drive you home (tonight)?

This RP is currently closed.

Ban Bean

Active member
Beatrice wanted to run once the shooting started. Her powers had been fuck all useless in preventing the gunfire, and the second the first round popped off, like many of those around her, she dropped to the ground and covered her ears. It was louder than she expected- she hadn't exactly grown up around firearms.

Bea waited a few moments, trying to take control of her thoughts. Any hallucination, any deer, and the situation could go from bad to worse. They needed help, but no one was getting anywhere- except maybe her. It was an unusual use of her power, but it was effective, and it would at least get to a place she could call the police. She turned herself invisible to those around her, and prayed no one would take notice of her sudden disappearance. With everyone distracted, she crouched behind the counter, until she was out of the line of fire, and ran for the door.

Once outside, Beatrice fumbled for her phone, with thankfully in her pocket, and dialed the police. It was simple enough, she simply pretending to be a bystander, who merely heard gunshots, and bad people walking into a bank. She hung up, and looked around, not entirely sure of what to do. Beatrice figured she'd wait somewhere safe until the cops showed. When she looked across the street, for a spot to wait, she saw it- the van. A greenish astro idling.

Beatrice was by no means a criminal, but she'd seen enough movies to know a getaway driver when she saw one. She thought of the people she abandoned in the bank, and felt an obligation to at least slash the tires so the theives couldn't get away. She wanted to help people, and even if she couldn't fight like the people in the bank, she could still do this.

Bea adjusted her sunglasses and turned invisible, crossing the street. One of the doors was already open. There was no weapon available to cut the tires, and she couldn't be seen- she carefully stepped inside the van, abandoning her reason in her desire to fix this- to make up for how she fucked up in the bank. She barely glanced at the driver, looking for a knife or tire iron- a gun? Anything really.
 
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Exotic instrumentation, with a particular fondness for the sitar and tabla, is common. Songs often have more disjunctive song structures, key and time signature changes, modal melodies and drones than contemporary pop music. Surreal, whimsical, esoterically or literary-inspired lyrics are often used.​

Psychedelia was used to waiting. He preferred it, actually. The van was quiet. The windows were rolled up. The slider was closed most of the way – just enough to not be suspicious, but it could be tugged open the second the rest of the Resonants came back. Their absence let him breathe for a second, close his eyes and put his head back against the seat. The vibration of the Astro’s engine ran through him, crawled up his arms and down his spine and across his legs in a steady and heavy rhythm.

Being alone in that stillness was always enough to calm him down. New places had different vibes, and they always left him way too aware of everything. The van, though? It was familiar. It was as home as they’d ever get. With all of them inside, it could be overwhelming at times – but a good kind of overwhelming. He cared about the people inside that building. Which was why he was trying to ignore the bad feeling he was getting about all of this.

It was also why he knew the person who stopped outside the van and eased the door open wasn’t one of them. He felt the hair on his arms stand on end through his heavy gray sweater. He made out the space they inhabited in his mind, seeing without his eyes. He could’ve just left them alone, but he was here to make sure everyone else had somewhere safe to fall back to.

“Hey, buddy, whatd’ya think you’re…” he started, turning around and opening his eyes.

He trailed off for a second when he realized he couldn’t see anyone back there.

He looked right at the spot where he knew there was a person. All the hallmarks were there, breathing, heartbeat, all the weird movements human insides had going on, body heat, and the way the fabric on her clothes rubbed up against itself. He could even make out the shape she was supposed to be. Heck, he could make out that the person was female. But she was invisible. Completely and totally.

There was a strange meta in the back of the van, and nobody else was here to help Psych out.

He pushed back against the anxiety that tried to claw its way up his throat. He could handle this. He had this handled. If the others could all fight vigilantes or whatever, he could handle one invisibility meta. He cleared his throat and looked right at where the person’s face should be. He thought fast, and reached for the inside of the door like there was a gun or something there. Maybe it’d make up for the lack of assertion in his soft, dull voice.

“Hey, bud – um, miss – whatever. You. Uh, what’re you doing? You’re not really supposed to… y’know… break into people’s cars?”
 
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Beatrice stumbled back, startled at the voice. The voice wasn’t particularly threatening, but it scared her nonetheless. Mostly because of what he said.

He can see me

That had never happened before. Even as a child, playing hide and seek with her parents, she’d hid invisible until they begged her to come out.

As she stumbled back, she hit the wall of the van and her concentration broke, revealing to the driver a pale, dark haired girl with sunglasses and colorful clothes. She didn’t move, staring back at the driver.

He’s not supposed to be able to see me.

Regardless he had, and he was reaching for the inside of the door. A weapon maybe. Beatrice froze in place, worried he would shoot if she moved to fast. She raised her hands slightly, but couldn't help the question that fell from her lips, "You...You shouldn't be able to see me."/div]
 
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Exotic instrumentation, with a particular fondness for the sitar and tabla, is common. Songs often have more disjunctive song structures, key and time signature changes, modal melodies and drones than contemporary pop music. Surreal, whimsical, esoterically or literary-inspired lyrics are often used.​

They didn’t leave. She didn’t leave, judging by the voice. And her face, as she became visible again. Big sunglasses, butterfly clips. More neon than Pop’s pastels. He really wished she was here – she’d be able to take over the situation just fine, and wouldn’t be sitting there like a dumb idiot.

“Uh– r-right. And– you shouldn’t be in my van. So we’re, uh, both doing things we shouldn’t. Be… able to.” Except anybody could break into vans. He and Laura used to do it all the time. He took a deep breath, feeling her heartbeat pushing against him. Right.

She’s more scared of you than you are of her, she’s more scared of you than you are of her… because she thinks you have a gun.

He left his hand in the doorwell, and watched her with decreasingly nervous gray eyes. Right. He was the dangerous criminal here. Even if he wasn’t that dangerous and was really just guilty of aiding and abetting. Nobody needed to know that.

His voice was steadier when he added, “What are you doing in my van?”
 
Beatrice thought quickly and put on a worried voice, which was strangely easy given the situation. She was frightened, nervous. Unsure what to do. She didn't hide that in her voice when she spoke next, "I was in the bank...there was shooting- I ran and this was the closest place I found for cover..."

Beatrice swallowed hard, keeping her eyes on his hand in case he moved suddenly, "I didn't see you in here- I'll go. I already ca-" She bit her lip, swearing at herself. You're a fucking idiot Beatrice. She took a second, and continued. "I already got out. I'm sorry for disturbing you..."
 
Exotic instrumentation, with a particular fondness for the sitar and tabla, is common. Songs often have more disjunctive song structures, key and time signature changes, modal melodies and drones than contemporary pop music. Surreal, whimsical, esoterically or literary-inspired lyrics are often used.​

Through the haze of nerves, Psych understood where the cut off sentence was supposed to end. She’d already called the police. Which was the point, they were supposed to have a fight, but he’d been hearing guns and shooting and – there it was again, two shots. Before the cops even got here.

Nobody ran inside the nearest car. Nobody hid inside the nearest car. She knew – she had to know. He’d needed to be close, but he’d parked too close, and now everybody could be in trouble because of him. He needed to – he needed to make sure she stayed put. He left his hand where it was in the door, hand in the well, as if holding onto something. He looked right at her, and under his gaiter he forced a smile that wrinkled the corners of his eyes.

“I-it’s ok.” He swallowed to get the shake out of his voice. “It’s fine! Really. Maybe you…” More forceful, Coby. “You should stay here until the shooting’s over. It’ll be– it’ll be best for you. To stay put, I mean.”

That.. that was enough, right? Pretending to have a gun and saying vaguely threatening things. It worked in the movies. Like, it always worked in the movies. So it had to work sometimes in real life, even if the probable statistics didn’t reassure him at all. What was she going to do when she realized he didn’t actually have a gun? What if she told the cops what he looked like? What if – what if the others came back? Min wasn’t above killing people. Not if they were in the way. Was Psych just going to get her killed?

If she didn’t want to get hurt, she wouldn’t have climbed into the getaway vehicle.

Not that that helped his mental state at all, but it let him pretend a little bit harder, for just a little bit longer.
 
Beatrice wasn't stupid. She knew how to recognize the acrid undercurrent of a threat in someone's voice, no matter how shaky it might be. He didn't look particularly threatening, and far too young to be associated with such criminals...then again she was too young for her job so she couldn't exactly judge on that account.

He also had a gun.

Maybe he had a gun.

Beatrice, subconsciously or not kept her hands where he could see them. He could also see her when invisible. If he had a gun, she couldn't be protected if he decided to shoot her. Was he immune to all her illusions...that would be a first for sure. It almost was enough for Bea to test it, or ask out loud. Almost.

Beatrice nodded slowly, "You're right...it's for the best. But I also...told my boyfriend I was at the bank He'll be worried if he doesnt see me."
 
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Exotic instrumentation, with a particular fondness for the sitar and tabla, is common. Songs often have more disjunctive song structures, key and time signature changes, modal melodies and drones than contemporary pop music. Surreal, whimsical, esoterically or literary-inspired lyrics are often used.​

Psych blinked when she mentioned a boyfriend, pausing for a second. She’d told her boyfriend to come pick her up from a bank that was being robbed? That… well, if he wouldn’t make it until after the robber was over, that kind of helped. But… she’d gotten into the getaway van on purpose.

Now that he could think, Psych listened to what the air against his skin was telling him. Her heart was beating fast. Her breath felt tight, constricted, but she seemed to be forcing herself to keep it steady. That was familiar. Actually, he was doing the same thing right now. He considered stopping now that he’d noticed, but let it keep happening anyway. Better than going into “overstimulation mode” with a stranger.

He didn’t really want to look at her face, not with his eyes, but he didn’t really have a choice if he wanted to stay intimidating. The idea that Min wouldn’t like her, or that Techno would hit her first and ask questions after, were still bothering him. He really did just want to let her go, but – he was supposed to be their anonymous member, a scout, a driver, somebody nobody else would recognize. He had to keep her here until somebody who was way better at making decisions under pressure showed up. Which should be any minute.

Right?

“You can, uh–” force, he had to be forceful “– sorry, but I don’t believe you. Now that you’ve gotten in, I can’t let you go anywhere until Min gets back.”

Was that too honest? That was probably too honest. He really hoped she was convinced he had a gun in that doorwell, because otherwise, he was all out of options.

Come on, guys, what’s taking so long?
 
Beatrice took note of the name, filing it away in her brain for later use. Even if nothing else, she could tip off the police. At least that was something to go off of if she made it out of here alive.

Min.

"Ok...I'm not going anywhere."

Beatrice was still in a state of thinking both incredibly quickly, all while trying to reign in her panic and thoughts so she didn't create more illusions. Bad enough this criminal already knew she could turn invisible. That part still bugged her actually. He could see through her hallucinations- the first person she had met who could. In any other situation, Beatrice might have lowered her defenses and asked how his own abilities worked. Maybe he was the answer to her own powers.

He has a gun Beatrice. Now is not the time.

Beatrice carefully adjusted herself, twisting her torso to face him better, while keeping her hands visible. As she stretchde herself into a beetter position she caught a better glimpse of his hands, and froze, and then met his eyes. He didn't have a gun.

On instinct, before he could stop her, Beatrice made for the open door and too freedom.

- Right into a large tattoos woman carrying a bloody corpse who threw her shoulder right into Beatrices torso, sending her flying back into the van.
 
Techno tracks mainly progress over manipulation of timbral characteristics of synthesizer presets and, unlike forms of EDM that tend to be produced with synthesizer keyboards, techno does not always strictly adhere to the harmonic practice of Western music and such structures are often ignored in favor of timbral manipulation alone.​

It wasn’t very often Techno could say a day had been enough for her. Sure, she’d had days when she’d had a lot more fighting than this one. Today had actually been pretty light on her. Which sucked, because it hadn’t been as nice to her husband.

Symphony was conscious, but his mouth was bloody, his eyes were closed, and purple bruises were sprouting across his face. He wasn’t made for that kind of fighting. On top of that, he was cool to the touch when Techno wiped the blood away from his mouth as she carried him to the van. No police yet – they were taking a long fucking time, maybe she’d fucked up the silent alarms too early, but she couldn’t care. Right now all she could care about was the fact that she’d been across the bank while Symph got wailed on.

She knew he’d have a better plan, next time. As long as there was

She refused to think about that. She held him tight in her arms, draped bridal style, as Pop flipped ahead to get to the other side of the van. When the right-side slider was pulled open, Techno was already moving to put herself and Symphony inside.

Something hit her hard in her forward shoulder. Instinctively, she turned into it, shoving whoever-it-was back. If it was Psychedelia, well, the kid should fuckin’ know better, shouldn’t he?

“Hey don’t–!”

She glared in his direction, and then realized that he was… still in the driver’s seat. She slid into the middle row of the Astro, and only when she actually looked at the person she’d it did she realize it… wasn’t someone she knew. Black hair, gray eyes, fuckin’ butterfly clips. As Pop slipped in and slammed the slider shut behind her, Techno held Symph just a little closer, purple eyes narrowing, her Jersey accent thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Who the fuck’s this, Psych?”
 
Beatrice landed hard against the far window with a thud and a dull ache in her get where the woman had got her. She gathered her bearings, only to find the woman and corpse- scratch that, man. He was still breathing although he looked in terrible shape. She remembered the audacious clothing, hair and tattoos of the woman, and the ordinary looking man from inside the bank, as well as the blonde girl getting in the backseat. They were all criminals, and if the gunshots had been any indicator- murderers.

Bea shrunk in her seat as the woman sat next to her, blocking her exit to the right, flinching in fear as the woman snapped at the driver in a horrible Jersey accent. Of course her presence wouldn't be welcome here.

Of course they're from Jersey.

She had to get out of the van quickly, especially before they started driving. While the woman was arguing with the driver, and the man in no shape to stop her, Beatrice turned herself invisible and moved for the next best option- the passenger door.
 
For many Japanese, min’yō evokes, or is said to evoke, a nostalgia for real or imagined home towns and family.​

Min sailed cleanly over the van, having gotten a solid head start straight from the doors. She didn’t want their enemies – new and old – to get the wrong idea from her fleeing the scene with that much urgency; but her people were waiting on her, and she couldn’t keep them until the police arrived for her own pride.

As her feet met the concrete, however, the door swung open from the inside. Her black eyes narrowed at the empty space, very well aware of the shifting air currents. In a moment, she’d pinpointed where each exhalation was coming from. Without so much as a second thought she flicked her wrist. The air around her moved all at once to shove the girl back inside – and some of it would go through her mouth into her lungs, and stay put there, held against her will.

“You stay,” she snapped, pulling herself into the van and sliding her staff at an angle under the back seats. Techno instinctively put her foot over it as she got Symphony settled beside her, now between Techno and the stranger.

More calmly, Min spoke to her driver, without looking at him. “Psychedelia. Take us home.”
 
Beatrice lunged invisible for the passenger door, moving in the space between the two front seats and the driver with long hair. For the second time that day she was so close to freedom and safety. She opened the door, cautiously hopeful despite her panic.

She came face to face with a small Asian woman, who without hesitation, flicked her wrist. The air itself seemed to envelope Beatrice, forcefully slamming her back into the seat. It was undignifying anf humiliated being manhandled twice in such a way. She probably looked a mess- her hair coming undone. But that was the least of Beatrice's worries.

She couldn't breathe.

The invisibility dropped, revealing her once more to the group of thieves as she collapsed into the seat between the window and the horribly injured man, gasping for air. She was capable of holding her breath for a few seconds, but the inability to draw in breath or move her lungs, paralyzed her in a primal panic. It felt as though they had been replaced by balloons. Instinctively Bea grabbed for her throat, bug-eyed with desperate pleading. Whatever this was, it was a metas doing and they had no reason to release her. She had seen their faces.

Beatrice coughed horribly and regained control of her breathing once the Asian woman, the likely aggressor, released her and let her breathe again. Her sharp warning was fresh in Bea's mind.

She obeyed the order to sit still, pressing herself closely against the van window, rubbing her throat and silently wishing they would let her leave.

Psychedelia, the woman had called him, began to drive away.
 

Exotic instrumentation, with a particular fondness for the sitar and tabla, is common. Songs often have more disjunctive song structures, key and time signature changes, modal melodies and drones than contemporary pop music. Surreal, whimsical, esoterically or literary-inspired lyrics are often used.​

Psych exhaled softly as he felt Min let go of the girl’s lungs. He floored the gas, and the old Astro van did its job and lurched away from the sidewalk. He swallowed nervously as he watched the road. He couldn’t see very far, but because he was familiar with the van’s vibrations, he could look past those at traffic around them. The lack of police pursuers meant he’d be able to get halfway across town, even in afternoon traffic, before slowing down.

“To answer the question, Techno, she… kinda climbed in, a couple minutes ago. I didn’t really know what to do, besides keep her busy, until you all got back.”

“It’s fine, Psych.” Min answered before Tech could get another word out. He felt her turn her head toward the back seat to look at the intruder, wedged now between the unconscious Symphony – who was leaned, in turn, against Techno, who blocked the door with her sheer bulk – and the inner window. The van only had one slider, and the windows propped open instead of rolling down, so she had no way out that way.

Min stared at the young woman for a few seconds, and then turned her head toward the resident couple. “How is he doing?”

Techno started to say something, but Symphony slowly lifted one hand without opening his eyes in a “thumbs-up” affirmative, and tugged down the kerchief around his mouth. His voice was very weak, but Psych could feel it loud and clear. “Alive. Breakage to… torso-abdomen. Maybe an arm. I’m…gonna rest.”

“Do that.” Min’yo turned her body to face forward again. Psych felt his shoulders relax as Symph leaned over to put more of his body weight against his wife. If Symphony thought it was safe for him to rest, that meant it was. He’d know better than anybody here.

Something Psych wasn’t going to address was the dark red stain on Min’s otherwise pristine white halter-top. Nobody else seemed interested in bringing it up, either. Once Symph was awake, he’d probably have to clean and bandage it if Min didn’t do it herself. Still, if someone in there was able to land a blow on Min... like, hitting Symphony was one thing. But Min’yo was usually untouchable, and Psych hadn’t seen anyone enter the bank. So someone had been in there that Symphony hadn’t been able to predict.

He didn’t ask yet, though. They’d tell him everything once everybody got settled in, and probably once they figured out what to do with the extra passenger. All that mattered was that they weren’t being followed.
 
Beatrice wanted to shrink under the intense gaze of the Asian woman in the passenger seat, but she managed to sit still enough, a blank expression on her face. There wasn't anything she could answer too, not as the driver explained what had happened to the Jersey woman. No, right now shutting out the world was best...it was the only way to keep her mental state under control.

No point in hiding. He already knows you can turn invisible.

Beatrice winced at that thought as the passenger woman looked away. He knew she was a meta.

We'll worry about that later.

What caused Beatrice to cringe more was the bloody mass of man beside her as he raised an arm weakly to reveal his face. He looked strangely...normal? He looked more normal than the rest of them. Human, if she hadn't known better.

Beatrice listened as he briefly rattled off his injuries to the passenger. Bad ones by the state of him. She glanced him over once- there was no point in averting her eyes. She'd seen their faces already. What that meant...she wasn't going to think about that just yet. Instead, she spoke, more so out of genuine concern than fear or instinct.

"I think you need a doctor...those ribs..." Beatrice trailed off.
 
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An elaborate instrumental composition in three or more movements, similar in form to a sonata but written for an orchestra and usually of far grander proportions and more varied elements.​

Symphony’s eyes opened again as the girl – black hair, dark eyes, probably Italian descent – mentioned he might need a doctor. She didn’t need to know that if he wanted, he would be a doctor. He had enough knowledge, not to mention practical experience. In a way, he was doing triage right now. He just couldn’t tell the degree of his injuries through pain.

The faintest smile parted his lips as he spoke. “Maybe we should kidnap a doctor next. I did take quite the beating after you ran out.”

His voice was harsh, even to himself, but he hoped the smile helped indicate that was mostly a joke. He hadn’t seen her leave, but she had been inside, and now she was in their van. At some point in the chaos he’d simply lost track of someone. It wasn’t unheard of, though he couldn’t repeat that one in the future. Especially with Slate involved. He wouldn’t forget the hesitation Min’yo had when she saw him again, the soft, horrified whisper. Sometimes, the rest of the team forgot she was a woman, a person with fears and dreams. She’d rather if they did forget. But it wasn’t good for them to put too much dependence on her. They’d made enemies today; they should all be ready to face that truth when it came back around.
 
"That wont be nessesary."

You really need to learn how to shut your mouth.

Beatrice had no desire to face the wrath of the woman from Jersey, or the small asian woman who had suffocated her. She was sure the rest in the van were just as deadly, even their quiet, mild-mannered driver. Still, she things might go worse if the man next her died from his injuries. There was something in Jerseys purple eyes that if Beatrice was a betting woman, she'd bet someone would suffer for the mans pain. Or death.

She also didn't know these criminals well enough to take Symphonys teasing as a joke, and wouldn't put it past them to kidnap some poor physician from a local Emergency Room. Beatrice tried not to dissapear into her seat as she continued softly. "I'm...actually a medical student," She lied. Might as well have been the truth though, given her parents. "I can take a look if you'll let me...I'm worried you might have pneumothorax which could lead to cardiac failure."
 
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An elaborate instrumental composition in three or more movements, similar in form to a sonata but written for an orchestra and usually of far grander proportions and more varied elements.​

“It ain’t pneumonia, dipshit.” Jules spoke up before Symphony could stop her. “Youse fucking deaf or somn’? He got the shit kicked outta him!”

Symph put his hand over hers with another weak chuckle, and she looked at him with the fire in her violet eyes that had made him fall in love with her in the first place. “Pneumothorax, Tech. It means my lung might have collapsed. Probably…not. No sudden radiating pain. But…”

He looked back at the girl, the medical student. That didn’t sit right, but he couldn’t think well enough to dispute it right now. She’d volunteered to check. He had to trust her, in a way, because the only other person who was qualified to do so was in the front seat.

“I am having trouble breathing. Go ahead, kid. If it’s worse than a fracture we’ll have to figure out a cast.”
 
If Beatrice hadn't been so scared of her situation, she might have laughed at Tech's stupidity. Instead, for her safety, she kept her mouth closed, only slightly wincing at the woman's aggressive insult.

Beatrice pivoted in her seat a bit, to better face her new patient.

"I'm going to check your pulse and ribs," She told the man, looking to him for permission before gently placing her fingers on the man's wrist. His heart rate wasn't elevated, and he was still breathing which was good. Beatrice hesitated for a moment before carefully placing her hands on the mans ribs, feeling for any grinding of bone, and that his lungs were inhaling properly. "Bilateral chest rise," Beatrice muttered to herself and met the mans eyes. "Equal pupils."

Capillary refill was also adequate, and there was no sign of peripheral cyanosis. As she worked, Beatrice also tried to take note of anything useful. How he was dressed, if he had any weapons, identifying features. The driver, Techno, the asian, and the blonde girl, were all very identifiable. This man however seemed...much more normal. If he could be considered such.

Further more, the van was older and beat up, but otherwise functional and well kept- save for the dozens of multicolored tally marks that graffitied one of the vans walls. Tech's foot was still on the asian womans staff. Beatrice quickly turned her eyes back to the man.

"No broken bones or collpased lung from what I can tell...probably some bruising or mild fracturing in the ribs. Just keep an eye on your stomach for distension, but I'm not too worried about abdominal bleeding.
 
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