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

This RP is currently closed.

Ban Bean

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?”
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 diver 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..."