[OPEN] BABES IN TOYLAND

[speakveryclearly]

Date & Time: December 20th, 2013
Location: New York City!!!
Characters: HOLIDAY SHOPPERS. Please note that with mod approval, any character is allowed to have joined the mob in front of the transporter, regardless of whether they responded to the network post advertising this event.
Summary: In a bid to conserve energy, over a dozen transports do all of their Christmas shopping at once. I hope you brought money!
Warnings: None for now!

All the transports are dropped into New York at 6:00, simultaneously but scattered. Coding the drop points for this mission was hell.

It turns out that the weather is actually fairly mild on this date; there is snow neither in the air nor in the ground. That isn't to say there's nothing of visual interest: All the lights of the city are on at this hour.



The Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree was lit back on December 4th.



Shop until you drop, Transports.

Comments

[inhumanity]

Depends.

[He flashes the turning signal. At least he obeys laws of the road?]

How quickly do you make people angry?

[permit]

Depends on the people in question.

[ it comes simply, as easily as it takes him to start loading his bags into a stolen vehicle.

but the smaller bags go in first -- just in case christopher decides then to drive away. ]

Oh - [ an afterthought: ] And whether or not you own a gun.

[inhumanity]

[He is a gentleman. He'll wait.

Somewhat impatiently, but he'll wait.]

I'm very grateful to the Second Amendment. It doesn't protect me, of course, but it has made my life so very much more exciting whenever I have a job.

[Remember the impatience? He puts the pedal down a few times. He is very ready to get this car moving. It's like a five year old waiting for a friend to get on the roller coaster.]

[permit]

[ a gentleman, indeed -- evidenced by the fact that, if the car weren't parked, chris would have run over his toes.

good friend material. best chauffeur. ]

Are you currently employed?

[ the rest of his bags get summarily dropped in the car, and he sits himself at the passenger seat, all ease for a man so recently introduced to the fact that -- hey, it sounds like the homunculus has a thing about guns. ] My, my . . .

I don't think it befits your personality, if your line of work is really as dangerous as you claim.

[ and yet he shuts the passenger door anyway.

those are some really boring last words. ]

[inhumanity]

[What counts is that the car is parked and Munakata still has toes. You can't spend your whole life judging people for hypotheticals!]

This is a vacation day.

[Out of nowhere, a gun . . . thing appears in Christopher's hands, a pistol with a too-long barrel that is also a knife. He holds the weapon up for Munakata to see, smiling broadly.] A normal gun wouldn't suit me at all, but my handmade knife is just perfect, being neither one thing nor the other. Marvellous, don't you think?

[The weapon disappears and Christopher shifts gears.] Put your seatbelt on. It's important to stay safe! [In the rearview mirror, you can see a man stop in the street, stare, and then shout and start running.

Christopher notices and smirks. And, surprisingly by-the-book in the execution, Christopher gets them out of the parking space and heading down the road. Quickly, but currently within the bounds of the speed limit.]

Don't worry. This car is very expensive. The only people who can afford it deserve to have it taken away.

[permit]

[ mild and steady is his stare. the streetlight outside shines the glare of the blade into his glasses, the reflection of the gun into the lens, but the curve of his smile is slight and undisturbed. for a stretch of time, he doesn't speak, doesn't react, a thinking pause in every sense of the phrase.

and then the weapon is tucked away, and reishi closes his eyes, turning to click his seatbelt in place as ordered, ease in every gesture. ]

I wonder.

How well does it suit you in combat.

[ no rush, even as he crosses his legs, his hands folding in his lap. his glance flicks up to the rearview mirror and he simply watches as the panic begins.

but the getaway proceeds rather tamely for the start of it; his gifts, he notes, don't even jostle at his feet. ]

You needn't ease my conscience, if you are truly concerned for it.

Although I admit, I'd initially thought you merely liked the car.

[inhumanity]

[Maybe this will be a truly peaceful adventure of two companions having a fun drive through New York.

Nah. Just give the poor victim time to call the cops.

Christopher moves in whimsical gestures, but he watches carefully. Call it a survival tactic. Munakata's response is observed and remembered, without any sign that he witnessed it at all.

Leisurely, they travel through New York's streets. (If anyone can travel New York's streets in a leisurely manner.) Christopher is even obeying all the rules of the road, particularly the primary rule: be safe.]

I don't like cars. A human-made being in a human-made object in a human-made space is just boring, don't you think? It would be better if we could drive right out into nature.

[permit]

[ the traffic is unusually slow for new york -- a small detail he easily attributes to the fact that they're in the high-end part of town, driving through valet parking lots and concrete streets paved to make the trip easy for those who can afford it.

in this much, he thinks, he can find some truth to christopher's earlier chagrin. ]

A human-made being in a human-made object in a natural space.

[ he repeats, lazy and yet with care accenting every syllable. he keeps his eyes on the road, shifts only with the stray rubble they grind beneath their wheels -- and smiles a little wider when they turn the corner and meet the worst of it, the thick of new york traffic in all its angry honking glory. ]

It'd be desecration, don't you think?

[inhumanity]

That's certainly one way to look at it. I'd just call it an inconsistency.

[Christopher doesn't lose his patience. He looks ahead, taking measure of the congestion, the paralysis. His thumb strokes the wheel, absent, as nothing happens.

But where his body speaks of with a kind of negating acceptance that might suggest a great deal of progress down the Noble Eightfold Path, his voice remains as animated as the host of a children's television program.]

Let's establish a points scale! Tell me, shall we make the goal one hundred points or a thousand? Personally, I think it's always more fun to be overambitious than underambitious, but I'm willing to negotiate a lower number with you. Seven hundred and fifty? Tell me what you prefer.

[permit]

[ . . . here, then, is movement.

his finger tapping against his knuckle; a glance trained in his peripheral. ]

Points.

[ echoed but not unkindly, answered in the bland way a member of an audience might. ]

I suppose it would very much depend on what earns what.

If everything earns a hundred, then wouldn't it be more challenging to go for a higher point total? Negotiation - [ it's somewhat stressed -- the care he takes to mind the nuance in the manner christopher had phrased it. ] can begin when we've established that.

[inhumanity]

[Christopher glances towards Munakata with the low, lazy grin of chaos about to break loose.]

Ten points for CEOs. Fifteen for mere street thugs. Twenty points for members of organized crime.

Twenty five for cops and government agents.

[Christopher turns the wheel towards the curb and gives a boost of gas. They're on the sidewalk—people scatter—Christopher clips an open door on one end and the back of a car on the other before he manages to spin them straight back around. With very little caution, he enjoys the bonus lane for cruel drivers: the sidewalks of New York.]

Oh, and subtract seventy for hitting children!

[Well, at least he'll be getting them out of traffic, with all those people running away.]