2644/This Is Not a Heist!

This Is Not a Heist!
Date of Scene:	27 July 2020
Location:	Suicide Slum - New Troy
Synopsis:	Tara and Garth bust up a money exchange operation. And quick!
Cast of Characters:	Tara Markov, Garth

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Tara Markov has posed:
Burner phones are a good idea. A brand new one was picked up from the shop, since she called Garth from her usual one and left a message, she tossed that one and offered up the number to him before she had done so. But the meeting place was simple. The slums of Metropolis; old dilaptiated building of where constant things go down. Things such as, exchanges of money or cars, drugs.. even people. Though, the latter isn't what Tara was there for, it was for something much more worthy of her precense.

She didn't exactly tell Garth why they were there. In fact, she told him nothing. They had a deal, he would watch her during a heist and she would accompany him on something heroic. Or whatever. It was relatively safe for him, really. All he needed to do was watch, and all she needed to do was show off..

"Alright, few rules.." She says as she watches from atop of an adjacent building. "One thing a grifter doesn't do is monologue. You get in, you play the part, and you get out. Real criminals don't take well to show-boating or idle threats either. So don't do that. This way of life is all put up and shut up. Make sense?"

Garth has posed:
Garth is wearing ordinary clothes instead of his usual bodysuit. Dark pants, a simple white t-shirt, sneakers. His hair is pulled back a bit, something of a 'manbun' situation going on and he's got a bit of stubble. The purple eyes still stand out, he can't help that, vibrant and almost radiant in their clarity.

"I get it," he says. "I wouldn't ever threaten idly. If I give a threat, odds are pretty good I'm more than willing to dish it out," he says.

He may not be a grifter, but it's clear he's a bit amused by the situation. It's a dalliance, a little adventure, without much in the way of danger or weight. If they did any serious harm, he'd repair it afterwards as best he could, although he didn't tell Tara that.

Tara Markov has posed:
"Okay, good." Tara says. Tonight was all about her. The binoculars were retrieved, as she looks over towards the building where the 'hit' was going to be. "Alright, so basically, from what I can see, there are at least five guys in there. Big ones. I can't tell if there are any in the back. But all signs point to yes. You see that?" She points off to the side of the building. "Another black truck. Looks like whatever they were transporting, they didn't want it to be out in the open for too long. Not to mention, they probably didn't want to see anyone bring it in."

She hands the binoculars off towards Garth, then gestures.

"If this were you, how would you play it?"

Garth has posed:
Garth cocks his head, "If it were me, I'd wonder waht they're transporting and what business I had with it. But I'm not me today, am I, I'm you or at least some version of you that looks like me. Okay, that didn't make sense but you get what I'm saying. I wouldn't do this. But today I am," he sighs.

"I would probably try to sneak in and sneak out without getting noticed, although that's going to be hard to do with these guys. I'd also potentially just kick their butts because I'm a very capable butt-kicker. But I suspect what you think we should do is talk our way past them somehow and I admit that's not really in my skillset."

Tara Markov has posed:
"I know what they're transporting. Money." He would have found out what it was either way, so may as well lay the cards out on the table. His further musings gets a rather wide smile, and she would have laughed if she wasn't attempting to get her head in the game.

Her smile fades as she listens, nodding her head completely. "Other times I would. But you have to take in account to your surroundings. Look at the way they're dressed. It's almost like mafia. Now a days they shoot first and don't bother asking questions. And they got the back up to do it. Imagine us walking into their spot for no reason. There's a chance we'd catch a bullet to the eyes before we say hello.."

She continues, "But we're at an advantage, because we are who we are." Now she was subtly inviting him along. "So we're going to go in, incapacitate, and hope we get out quick and clean without anyone else coming to their aid or being a witness. Sound good?"

Garth has posed:
Garth leans his head on his hand, elbow propped on the ledge of the building. "This is your rodeo, I'm just the new cowhand. See, that's a surface world metaphor, I'm starting to fit in," he teases.

"Well, if we're taking money from mafia types, I feel a little better about the whole thing. Although my knowledge of the Mafia doesn't go much beyond watching a couple of movies. 'Am I a clown to you?'" he quotes in his best Joe Pesci voice, which is not very good, puckering up his face.

"I'll follow your lead," he says more simply. "I could disguise us with magic if you want, but I'm not sure who to disguise us as."

Tara Markov has posed:
"Oh god Garth.. just.. why.." She cracks up laughing, probably loud enough to be noticed but thankfully, they weren't. "You seemed way too cool to be making jokes, now that image I have of you is just utterly tainted."

Tara does think for a moment, her brows lowering..

"Do you think you can blur our faces? Do you have something in your magic gallery for that?"

Garth has posed:
Garth tsks and shakes his head, "Please, I'm still very cool, even when I'm joking. I can't help it that Joe Pesci is outside of my mimicry range. He's a very unique human."

He considers her question, stroking his bestubbled chin, "I mean, if you just want them not to see your face, masks are much cheaper. I was thinking maybe looking like someone they know or someone they wouldn't suspect. Old people. Nuns. Girl scouts."

Tara Markov has posed:
"You know what we should do? Watch that new Scorcese joint on Netflix. I hear it's three hours but Pesci I hear is phenomenal. It's got all the best people in it." It.. actually felt good to hang with someone, especially on a job. Usually, she was a solo act, but..

"Nope, blur us. I feel it's more frightening that way. But you know.. if you can't do it, I totally understand.." Clearly she was goading him, testing the waters so to speak.

Garth has posed:
Garth obviously knows that she's teasing him, sticking out his tongue, "I am perfectly capable of doing it. Speaking of movies, I can give us kind of the predator blur. It's fairly effective underweater, I see no reason why it wouldn't work here."

"Stand still," he says, putting a hand on top of Tara's head and turning her to face him, "This might tingle. Try not to get overexcited," he smirks, starting to mutter a few arcane words under his breath, gesturing in precise angles around the both of them.

Tara Markov has posed:
"Niiice.." Tara says, then winces and turns as he places a hand on her head. The tingle does get to her, her shoulders immediately moving to try to work it out of her system, her eyes closing.. then allowing one to pop it open, just to see if there are any mystical arts going on around her. "This feels weird. You done yet?"

Garth has posed:
Garth doesn't reply at first because he's in the middle of saying magick words and you can't just stop doing that and have a conversation then go right back to it. There is no pause in sorcery. He has to finish what he started or it won't work at all. Or worse, backfire.

Finally, he finishes, smoothing palms over both sides of her face and then his own, until their features seem to shimmer for a moment until they're camouflauged, blurry chameleons reflecting their surroundings in rough and hard-to-look-at ways.

"I warned you it would feel weird. That's why I warned you. So you would expect it. Don't be impatient, little con artiste. Now...lead on."

Tara Markov has posed:
That.. felt weird. She still looked like herself to her, or at least felt like herself. If that's what magic entailed then she was all hear for it!

"Well.. shut up.." She had nothing to say to that. He did what she asked him to do, and she rightfully assumes that he did it well. She glances around the rooftop, then down below, leaning upon the edge before gripping it and jumping right off. It was a high fall, one that was stopped by a boulder upon which she fixes herself upon at a slight crouch. "Let's go."

He was a magician, he can get himself down, right?

She hovers into the air, slowly standing to keep her balance, her hands out at her sides as she wills the rock to turn her around to face the entrance. To go through the top, or the side... no.. she was going to go right through the front -fuckin- doors!

She whips down towards the entrance, situating herself upon the rock upon which.. when she gets close? She kicks it right from under her feet, sending it hurling towards the front doors to bust it wide the hell open. And this is where it starts.

Garth has posed:
Garth can, indeed, his usual levitation spell almost always active, allowing him to drift easily in her wake and land lightly on his feet. Of course, with the disguise, he thought they were maybe going to do something stealthy, get in close, maneuver their way in.

But then Terra's just ripping up the Earth and tearing open the doors. Well. At least they wouldn't show up on camera.

"SUBTLE!" he shouts to her as he flies overhead, summoning water from the pipes she's torn asunder underneath the ground and spraying it like a hose directly into the gathered mafioso.

Tara Markov has posed:
"I just didn't want them to see our faces!" Tara cries out!

She doesn't fly nor float without the assistance of the Earth, so as the water blasts in a wonderful arc, she sliding beneath the trail to knock one of the mafioso's off of their feet. She kips up at the wrong time as the sights were laid upon her, which causes her to fall right back down just in time for shots to be fired. She rolls out of the way, knocking over a table which barely covers her escape. With each crawl she performs, a trail of bullets fly behind her.

Garth wasn't going to be left alone. Water is great, but much like what happened with Terra, happens to Garth. A hail of bullets start to fly in his direction, the mafioso aiming but wildly shooting through their blindspots.

Garth has posed:
Garth drops to the ground, landing easily and out of the path of bullets, "I hate guns. Only the most pathetic bad guys use guns," he says. He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, telekinetically grasping the weapons and ripping them out of the hands of those firing in his direction.

With the earth roiling beneath him, he hops up and rides on a jet of water like he's surfing, dropping down right in front of them. "Now you made me mad," he says, casually decking one of them with a right cross that sends him flying. Atlantean strength is no joke.

Tara Markov has posed:
Tara continues to roll out of the way, each hand that slaps against the ground causes it to rumble against their feet. Those hand prints were soon rising; creating tiny little golems from the ground that she landed on, and with two loud claps of her hands they were off!

The little minions begin their attack, snapping their maws, jumping and crawling upon her attackers. The men scream, their guns drop, all while they flail and try to fight off the tiny rock monsters that harshly bite, claw, and cling against their skin.

She rises warily, just in time to see the punch and the man fly across the room. Her yellow eyes blink, head darting back and forth, and with a smirk, she hops over the table and takes off into a run to the back room.

With the men disarmed, and witnessing the punch, two of them wise up enough to try to get away. Their path wasn't where Tara had went, but the new entrance that she made, hoping to escape into the night further unscaved.

The few that remain behind try to rush Garth, while another runs adjacent to try to slide and retrieve a gun that was dropped during the attacks.

Garth has posed:
Garth is a wizard, yes, but that doesn't mean he's not a fighter. Aquaman, Nightwing, Troia and numerous others had all helped to teach young Garth to use his fists with quite a bit of aplomb. Which is probably why he seems to have fun with them. He even lets one get a shot in on him, his body, attuned to the depths of the ocean, easily strugging it off before he gives the guy a swift headbutt to put him down.

"Hey, Girl," he says, preserving their anonymity. "That one's going for a gun. You should stop him." he says, grabbing the last remaining goon on him and throwing him over his head into a wall.

Tara Markov has posed:
Tara was already gone!

The man with the gun has his grips upon it in a desperate display of a tumble. Her rises up on upon his knee, taking pains to take aim at Garth, hoping that his other comrades would get out of the way. Once the shot was lined up, he fires.. hoping a single bullet would take down the intruder!

Garth has posed:
Garth ducks and almost gets hit, a bare graze along his shoulder that actually draws just a little bit of blood. Blunt force he can absorb more easily, but piercing stuff like that tends to penetrate his skin. Of course, being wounded just seems to anger Garth and he reaches out, summoning his sorcerous might to pluck the man off his feet.

"That was very stupid," he says, his blurry features somehow even more horrifying as he flash-freezes the man, a shock to his system that knocks him unconscious to tumble down, his clothes crispy with the sudden frost.

Tara Markov has posed:
There was a scream from another part of the building; clearly it didn't belong to a woman. It was a mans scream, high pitched, one that chokes off near the end until there was nothing.

Tara emerges from the back of the room, carrying the large duffel bag along her shoulder. She looks at the waste that they've created, her lips frowning and her head nodding in a 'not-bad' fashion.

"You're pretty goddamned useful in a heist." She states, walking and stepping over the passed out and unconscious bodies, making her way to his side just in time to see the bloodied scratch upon his arm.

"You okay?"

Garth has posed:
Garth falls in beside Tara as they walk away. Whatever hesitancy he might have had, he's lost enough patience with these bozos that he doesn't feel too bad about helping Tara take their money.

"I'm fine. I got worse scratching myself on the reef while digging up clams in the trenches," he said. "I don't see a lot of regular guns. Mostly harpoons and fishhooks," he says with a hint of a grin.

Tara Markov has posed:
"Welcome to America." Tara says as she gestures around.

As they walk outside, she leaves the cars in tact, she was there really to get the money, not to sabotage their exit. "This one was pretty cut and dry." She explains. "These guys forcibly shut down a business that belonged to a mom and pop shop. Some high corporate lawyers parents or whatever. Granted, he could have taken the legal route but the mafia often times owns police and other corporate types that may or may not have been better than him."

She reaches out to grab his arm, tugging him across the street and through an alley.

"So, guy hires me and tells me what's up. The money from the sale of the entire block is right here. Along with deeds and other random documents I could care less about. And since the couple are a bit too old to go back into business, my guy wants them to live a happy and comfortable life far away from the slums."

Garth has posed:
Garth cocks his head, "For someone who made a point to let me know they were an outlaw and wouldn't accept my judgment, you sure are intent on making sure I know you're not a bad person," he teases.

"But I'm glad. A little vigilante action is where heroing started out, after all. Fighting the good fight, when the system won't do anything. It inevitably leads to people dressing up like bats or wearing capes. I mean, not me. Capes are terrible underwater."

Tara Markov has posed:
"You didn't hear the bad part." Tara says. "Though, I suppose you really don't need to see it."

The alley itself was a good enough cover for them to part ways however they need, the slums dark enough.. and.. just ratty enough that no one would come looking unless they -wanted- a fight. She leans against the wall to fish something out of the inside pocket, drawing out a small joint that carries a hint of a smell of something natural.. and a wee bit toxic.

"But since I want to keep this untainted image of me in your mind, you should probably head out." Out comes the lighter, which was struck, and soon, she was taking a deep inhale, she was totally going to smoke some weed right then and there.

Garth has posed:
Garth is familiar with weed, he's sheltered, yes, due to his Atlantean background and upbringing, but he's been above water on a regular basis during his early teens.

"What, you're going to ditch me to get stoned? C'mon, you at least owe me lunch," he says. He casually reaches out and takes the joint from her lips, putting it to his own and taking a deep inhale. Has he smoked weed before?
HisrWell. No.

"What's the bad part?" he asks as he exhales, managing to keep from coughing. He mostly breathes through his skin, which makes it easier. Wacky fishman biology.

Tara Markov has posed:
"Mmhmm." Tara admits. She takes another deep hit of the weed, but once it's plucked from her lips, she doubles over and begins to cough. She held it in a little bit too long, coupled with the first draw of the weed. Too much smoke had her coughing as if she were going to keel over right then and there.

"Phew.." She manages to say through her coughing fit, standing upright, and stumbling a little against the brick. That one took it out of her, but she was ready for a bit more.

"Gettin' the couple to actually -leave- the slums. Dude is a rich ass lawyer and the parents are proud. Community like folk." She coughs again, waving her hand about. "I gotta scare them to near death or either put them in the hospital to get them out." Yeeahh.. shitty thing to do. Very shitty.

She wiggles her fingers for the joint, but reaches up to take it. At least they weren't in the 'asking' stage of their friendship. "Like I said. You don't want to be around for that part."

Garth has posed:
Garth considers, "I agree, I probably don't. I understand the reasons. There should be a better way," he says, then holds up a hand to avoid protests, "Which isn't me telling you not to. I'm saying the system should be better so that you don't have to go to such...guerilla methods," he says.

"But goverments aren't always right or fair. People from Atlantis know that all too well," he says.

He takes the joint back and takes another hit of it himself, closing his eyes. Definitely a pleasant feeling. "Tell me how it turns out, at least?"

Tara Markov has posed:
"There isn't, really." She takes her last hit, before it was taken away. She holds it, allowing the smoke to flow from her nose like a bull. "Sometimes, you really can't reason with the old and stubborn." Her eyes lift to the night sky, she had to get high for this one, but with company.. it didn't hurt it all.

"Yeah.. I'll let you know, but.. you're going to have to give something to me first. Give to get, remember?"

Garth has posed:
Garth cocks his head, "I thought I already did my giving," he says, those purple eyes almost luminous and sparkling even in the dimmed light of the alleyway.

"What do I owe you this time? Is it seashells? Because I know where to find SO many seashells."

Tara Markov has posed:
"You did, but you're asking for me to give you something else. So, give to get."

There was a moment where Tara wasn't going to ask, the seashells catching her off guard. But it was cute enough for her to rethink not asking and just going for it either way. With that, she reaches up to grab him by the shirt, tugging him in close to try to plant a kiss upon his lips. And if she did and was able, she'd pull away with a smile, then slides away from the wall to complete her contract.

"I'll call you tomorrow with the results."

Garth has posed:
Garth was caught off guard by the kiss. But he's not objecting, leaning back into it and giving a little bit as good as he gets in that regard, giving her hair a bit of a tug with his gripping hand before she steps away.

"I'll be waiting," he says simply enough, watching her walk away. "Well. Ain't that something," he says to himself.