Day of the Dead Guy [Pretty Dang Open]

[vengefulshades]

WHO: Yomiel/The Manipulator, and many of you!
WHERE: The Lift, 15th-floor penthouse lounge in Heropa
WHEN: The night of November 3rd, starting at 8:00
WHAT: A desperate ghost goes to desperate measures to try and off himself, even if that means taking others down with him.
WARNINGS: Violence, mind-control via possession, suicidal themes from Mr. Coping Mechanism here
NOTES: Plot post is here. Mood music is here.



At 8:45 PM, the message goes out across all the Import devices. The Manipulator is back, out in public, and threatening to take six people down with him if the Import heroes don't try to grant his only wish-- to be destroyed permanently.

Who will live? Who will die? And will the Manipulator finally face justice- or oblivion?

STAY TUNED!

Comments

HOSTAGES

[vengefulshades]

Well, this party went downhill quickly.

8:00 PM - The Lift Lounge/Party

[vengefulshades]

What luck! An exclusive invitation to a gathering at a fancy, exclusive lounge on top of a building? Who did you impress to win this honor?

(Nobody, actually, you were randomly chosen. But you don't know that.)

Arrive, enjoy the sights and the luxury of the penthouse, and definitely enjoy those free drinks and snacks. You've got about 45 minutes until the poo hits the fan.

[lyingheart]

It's not hard to see something's wrong with this scenario. The scent of alcohol is too spot on, in pretty enough tumblers glittering in a row, like so many captive fireflies with a promise of inner warmth that will burn oh so nicely on the way down the esophagus to the stomach. Annie avoids them, not liable to touch something she didn't see poured herself, and wondering at the security in this place.

More like the one guard, and the little-too-wrogn demographic of the people gathered here.

Standing near the windows, she watches her fellows move in the reflection off the glass. She'd just finished dancing with Ken, calling an earlier evening than usual. Her heels are tucked up next to a notebook and her math book in her messenger bag. She's dressed in a hoodie, one she'd picked out with Curt last month, when he'd been trying to get her to buy a dress. For all intents and purposes, she looks like a teen girl staring out at the lights of Heropa, a small city, or an overlarge town, still mesmerized by the moving lines of traffic and the sea of light that winds through the dark countryside beyond.

Something's up, but she doesn't have a read on what yet. There's no one who'd mistake her for being "of age" to drink by the general rules of this nation, let alone Abigail, or her Nonah neighbor. What exactly are we expecting here? Her attention shifts to watching the one exit and entrance to this place. What is up their sleeves?

Some weird publicity stunt?

( open-ish?! to other invitees )

[gevurah]

[ Her invitation had warranted instant suspicion and so Kate had decided what better way to find out the intention behind her mysterious invite than scope out the aforementioned location? She dons her trademark red and black colours, in the form of a blouse, dress pants, heels and suspenders. Then she mingles effortlessly, but she is able to fade into the crowd just as easily, avoiding unwanted attention.

She surveys the crowd from the sidelines eventually, keeping an eye out for anyone suspicious or anything odd occurring in such a swanky place. So far, nothing out of the ordinary, but every inch of her skin crawls knowing something isn't right. ]

8:45 PM and beyond- Hostage Mingling

[vengefulshades]

(not a Jersey Shore reference, god.)

At 8:45, the only bouncer in the lounge makes a quiet exit out the front door. Shortly after, the sound of iron bars and electronic gears and buzzing can be heard. Security cameras around the lounge all light up at once, and the televisions all turn on and show static.

I hope you're all having a good time. The voice that comes over the PA might be vaguely familiar to those who frequently argue with villains on the network.

Now, everyone just sit back and relax, nice and quiet. It's showtime.

This is when the broadcast goes out.

[lurings]

Abigail only went out to try and have a good time AND SHE IS FEELING VERY ATTACKED RIGHT NOW. Like for fucks sake, can't she go to a mysterious party thrown by someone she doesn't know in a posh penthouse lounge with loads of drinks and itty bitty delicious treats without being kidnapped and held hostage?? Is that too much to ask.

Look at your life, Abigail Hobbs, the answer is a resounding yes.

He's probably a serial killer too.

Regardless to her pursed lipped annoyance and general unease and utter resignation to her life being an awful Shakespearean tragedy/comedy, Abigail remains in her seat on a plush couch, legs tucked underneath her with a drink in her hand. She is going to need about fifteen more of these, to be quite frank.

bullet sabotage

[lyingheart]

It's with Rampage being shot that how far the Manipulator's willing to go crystalizes, and Annie presses her lips into a thin line. She's been pacing, examining the room, examining the others (Kate, it would end up being Kate here too, and Will's young friend from home, not to mention the one guy who'd kept wanting to know exactly how destructive Titans were) before the Manipulator had come down, dissatisfied with events after Dorian's failed attempts at getting either one of them to stay down.

There's a pattern, and with the call of the hours, Annie has a feeling she knows what it is. She doesn't have her communicator with her. It's in for repairs, if any can be made, the melted interface finally too much for her to handle. That leaves the others to communicate out, if they can, or they want: it leaves her thinking over options.

She approaches another of her fellow "hostages." She's no innocent life to be protected, and she wonders if Levi weren't off in Alaska, if he might not be laughing to himself right now, or how much Reiner will want to wring her neck for being the one in a situation like this again, still unplanned. Her shitty luck has only gotten worse on this Earth. Her question is conversational, asked in a low tone to someone not talking on the network at the time she asks.

"Do you know how to unload the clip to your gun?"

[bloodonthestones]

Siegmund has never even seen a gun in real life before, outside of the holstered weapons of Polizei in passing. He shows very little outward reaction to the speech and the reveal, only because he's trained himself to hide behind aloof apathy and the danger isn't imminent enough to break through that defense mechanism. Anybody observant enough, however, may note that he's definitely tense, and the wrong kind of quiet. Instead of a quiet that's taking in, his usual kind of quiet, it's the kind that shuts out.

First the Hornets. The government using imPorts as political bargaining chips. Now this.

Getting spirited away to a magical parallel universe with awesome shadow powers actually kind of sucks. Welcome to the shattered remnants of your daydreams.

He spends a long time sitting on one of the sofas, staring intently at the gun he hasn't even taken out of the box, internally freaking out because he has no idea what to do. People are going to die if something doesn't happen to stop it. He is going to die. It's the second one that really scares him, but it's the first that convinces him he needs to do something. He'd asked Wild Tiger once if refusing the opportunity to know when people were in danger was denying his God-given duty to save a life. And here he is now, faced with the choice to act or not act in order to prevent the deaths of others, with no opportunity to turn a blind eye to their plight. He has to do something.

It feels like ages before he finally looks up at the cameras, trying to discern whether their ghostly host is watching, before standing and moving to the edges of the room. Moving as a shadow shouldn't trip the security system, but first he has to find an opening he can actually slip through as a shadow. He's slowly pacing the perimeter of the room, a hand against the wall, looking for cracks in the baseboards, the ceiling, the windows, the doors - even moving furniture away from the walls as necessary to look behind it. And frequently, of course, glancing back at the cameras just to make sure they aren't watching.

FIGHTERS

[vengefulshades]

Every hour on the hour, demands The Manipulator, so you heroes had better get to it if you want to stave off his rage.

Pick a timeslot and go for it!

9 PM

[vengefulshades]

Fifteen minutes after the message goes out, the first fight is demanded. Hopefully someone can hustle up to the roof in time...

[brushoff]

Every hour, on the hour. Thankfully, Dorian was in the nearby vicinity, so he hustled himself up to the roof of the building as fast as he could. He had multiple motives for being here, for doing this. He still wanted to improve himself in the public eye--unsurprisingly, robbing a bank tended to make people think ill of you. But he also wanted to know more about this Manipulator. Dorian had dealt with ghosts before. He had been possessed by a former lover of his, watched her burn away through the fire of a bomb dropped on London during the Blitz. Obviously this was different. This was a different ghost from a different world and no bombs.

Still, the principle should be the same. Get possessed, try to kill himself (and if that doesn't work, burn himself alive) and that ghost should be gone. Right? The principle shouldn't change at all, should it? Dorian was running on hypotheticals here.

So, as he stepped onto the roof of the building, he looked around, frown on his face. "You'll have to do something so that I know you're actually up here," he called out.

shortly after dorian's attempt

[earnedmystripes]

[For the most part, he knew arguing with the Manipulator was a lost cause. He was partly just keeping it up in hopes it would distract him even just a little while he made his way there. He doesn't reach quite on time, but luckily for him, someone had already gotten there sooner and met the Manipulator's demand.

Using his wires, Wild Tiger makes his way onto the roof, looking around--though he's not sure what exactly he's looking for.]

10 PM

[vengefulshades]

[fistofthejoestar]

Jonathan wasn't able to meet the first demand, boxed in by prior obligations as he was, but as soon as it became clear that whoever had arrived at nine hadn't been able to finish things he was off and running towards the Lift. If the hostages were to be rescued, the other heroes would need time to devise a strategy; he could at least provide that for them.

And...if this was the same man he spoke with on the network, he deserved to finally rest.

His breathing was under control by the time he emerged on the roof, even and already building up the ripple energy in his veins. He stood expectantly, taking the opportunity to size up the environment he'd be fighting in. There was no need to announce himself - he imagined that his presence had been known since he'd started up the stairs.

11 PM

[vengefulshades]

Icy Power Hour

[malodorous]

This was surreal, which wasn't unlike a lot of things here. Kristoff, however, usually tended to be as uninvolved with this place's issues as possible. Involvement was required this time, though, because Anna. He'd frowned skeptically at a party invitation from an unknown host, but he hadn't thought much of it beyond that, and now... Now there was a ghost guy hanging out on a roof looking for assisted suicide battles as a method of hostage negotiation.

So, yeah. That's a thing.

He wasn't sure how this was meant to go, and it had been a restless couple of hours up until this point. He'd calmed and became anxious in turns, and frustrated, and now he was finally stepping onto the roof with Elsa close by. He held an axe, the weight of it somehow comforting. It was a bit crass, but it'd potentially get the job done, which suited him just fine. Not that he actually wanted to axe some guy to death, but... He'd taken Anna. (And also other presumably-innocent people.) If he wanted to die so bad, what was the harm in obliging him?

"So how's this work?" He asked, more to the space in front of them than to any person, though he did cast Elsa a quick glance. "We just... go for it?"

12 AM

[vengefulshades]

1 AM

[vengefulshades]

2 AM

[vengefulshades]

RESCUERS

[vengefulshades]

By 9:00, the building is surrounded by police and SWAT, who secure the whole place all the way up to the 14th floor. They don't dare to step up onto the 15th, lest they piss off the Manipulator.

It's best that no one tries to bust in independently of police consultation, given the trigger-happy disembodied ghost on the top floor. The perimeter is secured and the police are stopping anyone who tries to cross it at the door, but they will speak to anyone who identifies themselves as a hero.

They'll be allowed to try.

i believe i can fly (no i don't) | for fulcrum

[lyingheart]

Annie finds herself in control of her body again just after she's forced to leap out the broken window, throwing herself out into the cold night air fifteen stories above the ground. There's a part of her that registers how pretty all the lights look as she starts falling, along with a part of her cursing the fact she's not in her torn up maneuvering gear. Most of Annie focuses in on the immediate reality: she's falling, and if she does nothing, she'll die.

She brings her hand to her mouth, split seconds away from biting into her own flesh and activating a shift. Her Titan form can survive this where she knows her fragile human body cannot.

[daimeinashi]

[Sai hadn't come right away. He had no orders to get involved. The hostages weren't his fellow villagers, nor enemy shinobi he could get information from. Overall, the situation was largely irrelevant to him.

But then he thought about how hard Naruto was willing to fight for the sake of getting Sasuke back, and how so many people were trying to talk the "Manipulator" down, and he thinks, maybe if he goes, he'll learn something about bonds.

So he makes his way to the building about an hour after the post goes up. Decides against the idea of spending time searching for an appropriately large scroll with with to perform his sealing jutsu, and instead arrives at the 14th floor. He explains to the police he's capable of investigating the security system without drawing too much attention. They're hesitant, but when he shows them his intention--creating an ink clone and transforming it into a rat--they give him tentative approval.

His clone scurries into a nearby ventilation shaft as he lays out one of the scrolls that arrived with him on the floor. A couple minutes later, he begins drawing. It's a detailed depiction of the security box, at least from the outside. He doesn't understand technology well enough to offer more than that, but he's available to scope out anything else he's requested to while he's up there.]

ELSEWHERE

[vengefulshades]

Anywhere else I forgot to make a sub-heading for.

➥ The Aftermath |

[nestingdevil]

Outside, the police force was already painting the scene in undulating reds and blues. Flashers banged off concrete and lines and lines of tape sanctioned off the premises. It was a mess of vehicles; all splayed out in various positions, creating an erratic formation around the exit of the building. But the excitement was over and only the aftermath remained.

A single cigarette fell to the ground, sparking a cherry as the butt peeled back. It reflected in steel chrome as it rolled underneath the heavy-set form of a motorcycle. The engine was still warm, but the exhaust had long since been cut. Greed shoved his heel into the metal piping, watching as squad cars were replaced by ambulances. And so on went the procession. Blankets opened up and wrapped around the shoulders of those that had made it while the remaining officers stood side by side, exchanging glances and stories all the same.

He was merely a shadow on the outskirts. Lit up whenever one of the lights off a cruiser bounced in his direction. An eerie stillness took him and his expression wasn't the usual. His upper lip curled up briefly and the 'tsk' in his throat went on deaf ears. Yomiel had his choice, that was true.

But it was a fucking stupid one.

Greed shoved one leg over the saddle and his boot fell into notch at the side. A quick ignition turned the bike on and the exhaust coughed and belched behind him. He pried up the kick-stand with the backside of his heel, shoving it back into place with a solid click. His other leg went out to the opposing side, anchoring into the pavement.

next door → sherlock & john (& nosy nellies)

[sizetwelve]

If the heroes are gonna do their thing, then great, but Mary recognizes two names on that list, and at least via the network, it didn't sound like anyone was really prepared to do anything. As Will said, killing someone who couldn't die wasn't an easy challenge, and although reactions have been loud and clear, the answer seems as fuzzy as the smog. Well, to everyone but Mary, maybe.

No matter what she's told, it's rather difficult for her to comprehend true immortality...or ghosts. She has to see it for herself, so to speak, and this is exactly what she'll try to do through the scope of a sniper rifle. Beside her is a duffel bag, to which inside is stored only the necessary supplies required tonight. Those supplies do include tools a nurse would use, but at the moment she isn't posing as a nurse. Her scrubs are hidden underneath muted black clothes, gloves shielding her fingerprints and a black cap tucking away her hair. Not that it would matter too much, since anyone happening upon her wouldn't even see Mary Morstan, but one of the government employees sent to greet them upon arrival: a pleasant enough brunette in her thirties, with dull brown eyes and a forgetable smile. Handshakes are more useful than ever, now that she's discovered how best to appropriate her newest shapeshifting skill.

She hasn't touched the perimeter that the hostages are inside, instead signing up to assist any of the emergency medical personnel for a worst-cast-scenario. As a nurse, her presence there wouldn't have been suspect, allowing her to walk on by without much fuss. In truth she is right around the corner, having trucked it next door to find a hotel room high up with a decent sight. She's crouched underneath a window, hoping that any minute she'll actually be able to spot a clean shot and take it.

If she can't, though, she'll be trying to learn what she can through sight. Pointedly she'll be trying to spot Abigail or anyone she might recognize on the street or through a window in the loft, but there's not much she can do for any of the hostages or rescuers. She'll be watching the roof, too, though it takes a bit of moving and skulking about to find a spot she's willing to camp at. All Mary can do now is hope for a chance. Maybe everyone's right. Maybe this guy isn't just a loon with a god complex. But she'd lie awake at night down the road wondering what if if she doesn't at least try once.

Except for anyone she might text on the temporary mobile (where is her sandwich), nobody ought to know she's even there unless they have special powers to sense or see that far. Mary's just a fly on the wall...of the other building; and even then, she's wearing another fly's face.

This might mean she's late as an attending nurse on the scene, but she'll quickly change and head over once the hostages are cleared.

[ ooc; Definitely leaving any rescuing or capturing to the heroes that signed up, but Mary will be taking a headshot once The Manipulator's on the roof with Derek Hale. Once that doesn't work, y'all will have a creeper watching this drama like it's a daytime soap so don't be shy with the deets. Got anything to show her, friends? ]