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[closed] the law happens so much
WHO: Yato, Ichirou, Shouto, Lucian, Mako, Fynn (as gathered from this post)
WHERE: An alley near Trevelyan Clinic and onward
WHEN: Late June, late afternoon
WHAT: Yato attempts murder. Recolle is like nuh-uh.
WARNINGS: Blood, graphic violence, amputation.
[ Yato has a good memory for faces. Even better, he has a good hand for art. Armed with pencil and paper, he draws a face he still remembers from months ago. He wouldn't forget the face of a man who laid a hand on a friend. Even less the face of a man who would try again to destroy the same friend's life.
It takes time to find a lead, but less than expected. Whenever he makes his presence known among strangers, the portrait in one hand and a sheathed katana in the other, the hapless citizens of Recolle are often too surprised by his sudden appearance to ignore him or shy away. Surprise makes them honest. The clues are in the blankness of their expressions or the guarded flicker of their eyes toward him. Yato gets his answers.
And in time, Yato finds his man.
Late twenties. A construction worker. Tall, bulky, mean. An address. An apartment in disarray. No significant other, no family to speak of. Friends, but none especially good. A gambling habit. A drinking habit. Nothing to suggest upstanding character. It's frighteningly easy for Yato to find these things out now.
In time, he decides there's nothing more he needs to see. He takes up his sword. ]
WHERE: An alley near Trevelyan Clinic and onward
WHEN: Late June, late afternoon
WHAT: Yato attempts murder. Recolle is like nuh-uh.
WARNINGS: Blood, graphic violence, amputation.
[ Yato has a good memory for faces. Even better, he has a good hand for art. Armed with pencil and paper, he draws a face he still remembers from months ago. He wouldn't forget the face of a man who laid a hand on a friend. Even less the face of a man who would try again to destroy the same friend's life.
It takes time to find a lead, but less than expected. Whenever he makes his presence known among strangers, the portrait in one hand and a sheathed katana in the other, the hapless citizens of Recolle are often too surprised by his sudden appearance to ignore him or shy away. Surprise makes them honest. The clues are in the blankness of their expressions or the guarded flicker of their eyes toward him. Yato gets his answers.
And in time, Yato finds his man.
Late twenties. A construction worker. Tall, bulky, mean. An address. An apartment in disarray. No significant other, no family to speak of. Friends, but none especially good. A gambling habit. A drinking habit. Nothing to suggest upstanding character. It's frighteningly easy for Yato to find these things out now.
In time, he decides there's nothing more he needs to see. He takes up his sword. ]
ICHIROU and pals
Yato separates the man's hands from his wrists.
Even if Yato has never killed a person with a sword in this lifetime, the sum of his experience prepares him nearly as well. He's severed fingers with a knife. He's hacked at giant bugs with a crude blade. He's butchered meat in the kitchen and learned about slicing through joints. He's felt what it's like to slice through unsuspecting flesh, seemingly endless, though his hands were much smaller and his blade much sharper. He's hit people until they stopped moving.
Hurting a man who deserves to die is no big deal. Improbably, maybe even impossibly, Yato takes both hands with one swing.
The man doesn't seem to realize it at first. An unlit cigarette dangles from his lips, and the lighter he was cupping to his mouth falls to the floor with a delicate clatter. The stumps of his wrists gape up at him, islands of off-white amidst flesh for a split second, and then they begin to weep red.
The man panics and shouts. He presses his wrists together impotently as if reaching to squeeze the wounds closed, his body not yet understanding that there are no fingers to do the squeezing. Yato watches him very calmly with his bloodied sword at his side, and though he is shorter, he manages to look down on this large man bent and cursing over his wrists. Somehow, the injuries aren't bleeding too badly. It'll give Yato some time.
He kicks aside the loose hands like the trash they are and moves to stand squarely in front of the man. The man's gaze snaps up to him, hazy with shock. Could he possibly remember who Yato is? No, of course he doesn't. So there's no need for talk. He raises his sword to the man's neck with both hands and readies a thrust. He'll finish what Aki started. ]
Re: ICHIROU and pals
And normally he'd have darkly congratulated himself for being right. But when he sees Yato, it actually derails him. Momentarily at least. He quickly thinks how to proceed. He really doesn't have to have to shoot Yato, but he puts his hand under his coat on his gun either way. Then he talks. Fast. Loud. Firm but not aggressive. Authoritative.]
Step away from them and put the weapon down.
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The victim falls onto the seat of his pants, his legs seeming to give out. But if he thinks Yato has forgotten him, he thinks wrong; Yato's blade ticks toward his neck in warning and stops, precise and mechanical like a hand on a clock. ]
Walk away, Gumshoe.
[ Low and even. Just as authoritative. As if he might actually be able to send an officer away from a scene of assault through sheer force of will. ]
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You need to put the weapon away.
[His hand isn't on the gun yet but it's close. He's softening his tone, being very careful with his words. Don't demand they get on the ground, don't remind them you're trying to arrest them. Keep their attention on you, don't remind them of the guy. The guy...
hands cut off...looks like a freakishly clean cut from his view. Not sure to be fatal, not if he gets treated quickly...
He's getting closer. It's very subtle. Something he picked up over time. Sliding his feet along the floor, so it's hard to even tell he's getting closer until he's gotten a few steps nearer. He's not convinced Yato won't take a swing at him with the sword though, so he's not eager to get TOO close.]
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But he won't try it. There's only one person he's after. ]
So you can arrest me? Real funny. Show me your hands, and I might think about it.
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Okay, okay. You're not stupid.
Let's be clear, then.
[He is definitely not a hostage negotiator. But Yato doesn't seem to have been hired to do this, Ichirou assumes. He'd have killed him and ran, or surrendered, he thinks.]
As long as he's breathing, I have more important things to worry about than you.
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Cops don't want to kill, and Yato has exploited that fact plenty in his life. But there's usually at least a little niggle of nervousness that a cop could get a tad too enthusiastic about subduing him. The fear of death. This time, Yato feels pleasantly calm. It could be the sword in his hands, mundane in origin but sharp and trusty, or the clarity of his task. Very slowly, almost lazily, he raises the point of his sword until it's in line with Ichirou's eyes. ]
Then we have a problem. Him breathing isn't in my best interest. Either shoot me or beat it.
[ All the while, the man behind Yato continues to curse and attempt to deal with his injuries, stuffing them under his armpits to stem the flow of blood. He slowly hunches to the side until he's on the ground, curled up around his missing hands. The iron smell of blood begins to fill the area. Yato's eyes are even brighter blue than usual as he waits for Ichirou's choice. But even he knows it isn't much of a choice at all. ]
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Step away and drop the weapon.
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Yato is not always good at probability.
It must be the sword in his hands giving him this outrageous sense of confidence. His stance is solid, the blade perfectly steady. Focus. Let the mind go. He watches closely and waits. ]
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MAKO
Did Retrospec really have to sign up so many cops? Yato recognizes this one from the app in passing, and even if he didn’t, the way the cop is able to focus directly on him says enough. He doesn’t know if Ichirou reported him, or if a passerby witnessed and remembered just enough to notify the police, or if he’s just after Yato for his sword. In any case, it’s a chase. Yato grimaces and sprints down the busy sidewalk, his sword slowing him down but too valuable to toss. It makes him feel safer to have it.
His nigh-invisibility can be a help sometimes. No one's stopping to scream or stare at him with his very obvious katana in hand, and as he weaves through foot traffic, the undispersed crowd leaves something for the cop pursuing him to contend with too.
Encumbered as he is, Yato is pretty good at running away. He should be able to lose the average cop -- though if he's a Retrospeccer too, this cop might be anything but average. He looked pretty young and fit, too. Posted an """accidental""" shirtless selfie recently, didn't he? Yato glances back for a hot second. Has he lost him...? ]
Re: MAKO
Aggravated assault suspect, armed and dangerous with large knife--
And that gives his look a whole new characteristic. Just as Yato starts running, too. Mako's going to have to figure out the best way to do this, and running through the crowd seems like a bad idea. He lurches forward, but his eyes are peeled for any shortcut. He sees a walkway headed upwards that could help him get the jump on this guy.
So he runs up there, relieved that people are averse to stairs for a hot moment.
He sprints forward, and then as he approaches the barrier to the ground below, he quickly leaps over it, landing only a few feet away with a quick roll. And it's like he rolls straight onto his feet and into a run.]
Stop!
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You've been playing too much Hitman's Creed!
[ TIME TO BOOK IT. Mr. Cop is too close for comfort, so it's time to play dirty. Yato spies some banners overhead with cheerful PSA text advertising free government services and upcoming events. As he runs by, Yato draws his sword and cuts the banners down with a few quick flashes of the blade. Each banner slips down slowly and gently, barely disturbed by the friction of his cuts. With luck, they'll trip up the cop a little...
And if they don't, Yato's willing to do plenty more. Homeless guy with overladen shopping cart? SORRY BRO, Yato feels for you he really does, but he nabs the cart with a let-me-borrow-this and sends it careening down the narrow sidewalk at Mako. Jaywalking? ALL FOR IT, he sprints across the road when a little gap in traffic opens up. Only when he's safely on the other side does he look back once more to see how Mr. Selfie is doing. ]
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Besides, he had to figure out what to do as the banners came falling down on him-- at least the first one did, anyway. It slowed him down enough to fix his timing for the others. Those, he could just run over, provided he didn't hit anyone.
The cart, that was an easy jump to make. But the traffic... that wasn't a move he was willing to follow. He quickly looked around for a solution. It's too bad he didn't have a way to get over this... and then he spotted the walking bridge over the street. This was going to be slower, but he could keep an eye on which direction the perp ran from the bridge and go from there.
It was too bad there wasn't a light nearby. If cars were stopped, it'd be kind of cool to run on top of them.
Oh well.]
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With the cop slowed down for a moment, Yato ducks into one of his most faithful friends: a shady alleyway. When Mako follows, he'll find a dead end with a number of options available to him: a couple closed trash cans, an open ground-level apartment window, and a manhole.
Try your luck? ]
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And the last thing he wants is to go into the sewers anyways.
That leaves the window. Who, in this day and age, leaves their window open like this?
Time to go through the window.
Technically illegal. But he doesn't have time to care.]
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Blessings can come of having to cram yourself into a narrow space, not least of which is immobility. When his trash can is rudely kicked over, Yato hardly makes a sound, even when some mystery garbage juice starts to soak into his pants. He makes a face, though. He most assuredly makes a face.
When he hears the sound of the cop(?) hopping through the window, Yato quietly begins to make his escape. Better beat it before the cop realizes his mistake.
He's a little surprised the guy actually went through the window, though. Aren't cops supposed to go through the front door at the very least...? Oh well, not Yato's problem. ]
FYNN
He catches his breath and peeks out from the empty trash can he was using as a hiding spot. When it seems like the coast is clear, he smiles a crooked smile in victory. With luck, Yato will never run into that guy again. He steps out of the trash can, digs his sword out after him, and sweeps off the little bits that stick to it.
He’s exhausted after all that running. He’d love nothing more than to go back and find his man, but the guy is probably under medical care by now. And probably will be for a little while yet, but that’s no obstacle to Yato anymore. It will be a simple matter to find out which hospital he’s staying at and stroll into his room.
For now, he…
...
… might have to deal with another cop?
He freezes as another uniform appears. Yato doesn’t recognize this guy. Is he a Retrospeccer? It would be just Yato’s luck. If it’s just a normal clueless cop, his attention will pass through Yato, and Yato will be safe. But if it isn’t… well, Yato still has a little fight in him. He watches the guy for a sign of acknowledgement, stock-still. His still-blue eyes gleam in the light of the setting sun, waiting. ]
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Officer Izunia has been following the entire drama unfold from the safety of his squad car this afternoon. He was just about to get off his shift when the call from dispatch came through. Instead of getting his afternoon macchiato, the officer found himself now in the middle of this chase throughout the city for a young man between 5'7 and 5'9 with jet black hair wielding a Japanese katana. While he certainly has his misgivings about being dragged into trouble so late in his shift, Fynn wasn't about to just pretend he didn't hear the call and just go off the clock.
Though, in the back of his mind, he sort of wish he did just that.]
The frickin' moon must be out for this kind of lunacy to happen.
[He grumbles angrily as he steps out of his car. After locking up the car, the officer took a moment to stretch his limbs before jogging up the block. From last he heard, the man was somewhere by Grove Street and Delancey but the altercation took place near the Trevelyan Clinic in Chata just moments ago. Armed with his service pistol, Fynn somewhat wished he still had Togusa's Mateba from yesterday. This town is going completely batshit and he needs something more than just Standard Issue to take some of these perps down.]
[Fynn turns the next corner by the intersection and comes to a slow halt once he caught a glint of steel. It's then that he spots the youth nearby just staring at him like a chocobo in headlights.]
...Oh shi--!
[Years of training just doesn't prepare you for the real deal. For a hot second, Fynn mind goes blank before suddenly his hands is upon his gun.]
Freeze! Hands up, now!
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Technically, Yato was already in the process of freezing. But now he unfreezes, swinging his sword up into a solid defensive position. A light smear of blood remains in two places along its blade. He hasn't had the chance to properly clean it off. ]
Don't you have a donut to eat or something? Do me a favor and buzz off.
[ Unlike with Ichirou, Yato doesn't even attempt civility. This cop is a stranger, Retrospeccer or not, and probably not too calm about stumbling upon Yato if his curse was any indicator. He might be able to worm his way out of this. ]
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I said don't move! [See, Fynn would've commented on that donut joke if he wasn't fearing for his life right about now. It's bad enough the perpetrator is pointing a sword at him but it's a bloody sword with telltale red smears on it. So guess who's finger is inching closer to the trigger? Yep, it's Fynn's.]
Put the weapon down!
[He's following every damn procedure in the book here but so far this nutcase isn't listening. Is he really going to have to shoot? Is he really going to have to shoot him? This guy looks like a kid to Fynn, like one of those Recolle University students. Can he really pull the damn trigger? This isn't the shooting range, this is real life.
There's a strong chance Fynn is going to have to shoot this guy.]
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Good sense says Yato should call it quits now and put the weapon down, because this cop seems a little too enthusiastic about neutralizing him. Not unreasonably, since the guy can't know that Yato is harmless.
Well. At least Yato thinks he's harmless. He would've been perfectly happy to go back to his everyday hobo things once he was done killing a man. ]
Don't move or put the weapon down? You sound a little indecisive.
[ Either way, Yato is doing neither of those things. He moves suddenly to the side, hoping to evade Fynn's aim and begin an escape. ]
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[Harmless? It's kind of difficult to be viewed as harmless when wielding a Japanese Sword covered in actual blood. If the kid wasn't brandishing a lethal weapon at an officer of the law, then maybe Fynn would be more diplomatic here. Alas, that's not the case and Fynn is twitchy and nervous right now but give him some credit.
He's really trying to remain calm and not escalate this situation further. So work with him, kid! Please work with him and not end this story in a tragedy for the tabloids to pick up. Fynn doesn't want to end up on the news and he doesn't need Internal Affairs up his ass.]
I know what the hell I said! [He does realize how indecisive he sounds but shut up, kid!] Put the weapon down--STOP!
[Before the officed even realizes, he already fired three shots. They come one after the other in rapid session. Fynn doesn't even realized he pulled the trigger until the gun smoke reaches his nose.]
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Ping. Ping. Ping.
Three sharp strikes on the edge of his blade, and six bullet halves whiz by on either side of him. If the police look for those halves later, they'll find them perfectly split down the middle.
He almost can't believe that worked, but there's no time to stop and marvel. Blood pumping, he takes off again in an instant, rounding the corner into an alleyway for cover. If he's lucky, the cop will be too surprised to catch up... ]
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His mind goes completely blank as the memories of a distant past suddenly places him in the middle of a stylish office with great big windows overlooking the chaos transpiring down upon the grand city below. He isn't holding his standard issue pistol but a large military class rifle aiming at what clearly is a dead man. A trickle of red stains the white and grays of this man's uniform and some of the blood got sprayed across the tan sofa as the victim falls to his side. Fynn can scarcely believe his eyes but there he is within some awful memory standing over the body of someone he once knew, someone he once respected.
If it wasn't for the telltale sound of metal clinking against metal, Fynn would've never came back to the present. The officer blinks his eyes in utter bafflement once the sword-wielding youth deflects the bullets with just his sword alone. Uncertain what just happened or even how that's possible, Fynn snaps out of his daze quickly and lowers his gun.]
What's going on around here....?!
[He growls as he chases after the man. While he's not about to let this suspect get away, Fynn honestly can't believe what he just witness. Was that a memory? Was that...something he lived through? And what's the deal with this bogus ass samurai?! Why is this happening?!]
[Now gaining a big more speed, Fynn pockets his firearm and leaps in an attempt to tackle the suspect.]
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