i suppose this isn't a date, then., *tag: david smith

[Jennifer Duhamel]

It was getting dark, but there were lights out to help her find her way as Jennifer strolled contently through the park. It was the long way home, but she didn't mind. It'd been a good day so far, everything having run smoothly at the office. There hadn't been much use for her lately, which was odd. Usually people were breaking down her door to talk to her but lately... well a calm had come over the station for the past week and it was nice.

Smiling to herself, she hummed and swung her purse in her hands as she walked. Her blue dress didn't hinder her steps as it wrapped around her legs and her favourite white flats made crunching noises on the odd leaves they found. "And nobody cries, there's only butterflies. Take me away..." She sang softly to herself, not loud enough to attract attention -although there was literally nobody around to really attract- but loud enough for her to hear.

Spirits up she pulled out her cellphone and dialed Riley, knowing before it happened that she'd get his voicemail. "Hey little brother. Listen love, I can't come over tonight, I'm just kind of tired and in need of a bath. You take care of yourself, alright? And don't you dare stay at that office all night! Love you, bye." She flipped her phone shut and put it back into her purse before carrying on, taking a turn down the path and walking past a few benches.

[David Smith]

Dizzy, if nothing else, prided himself on his ability to find people.

Luck and a fair bit of know-how made David Smith (and his many aliases) one of Alexandria's best finders. As soon as he'd left his apartment, he'd gone straight to work-- finding his latest target within the night would be nice, but he wasn't counting on it. Nightfall was perfect for cover, but most respectable people stayed away from the city's less-than-reputable streets until daylight.

Although there was a 50/50 chance that the girl was stupid and didn't follow that particular surivival rule.

Dizzy leaned back against a sturdy brick wall, breathing in the pollution-heavy night air with a shiver. He'd been out for a good five hours now, scouring the city and asking all the right questions in all the right places. All wrongdoings aside, the man was good at what he did. He took pride in his wits, and this time, they'd lead him to a delicious little clue. Apparently miss Jennifer worked at the police department.

Running a hand through his hair, Dizzy checked his watch. 7:00. He might've missed her already, but with any luck, his 'victim' would be heading this way any minute now. Of course, he hadn't been able to find out where she lived-- there were some things polite inquiries just couldn't get-- but it was likely she'd be heading towards the residential part of town, and the quickest way to there from the station was through the park.

He'd memorized her face sometime during the course of the afternoon (those wide brown eyes were certainly memorable enough), but just to make sure, Dizzy pulled her photo from his back pocket, scrutinizing her features once again. She was pretty. He felt wrong admitting it to himself, but he'd have fun with her.

Maybe Shooter had been living in his head for too long. Silently, he winced and slid the photo back into his pocket. Did fun include Shooter's rough ways? The idea sent his mind into turmoil. He wasn't like that-- would never be like that.

Uncomfortable? the man in question whispered in his head, but this time, it seemed to be coming from his right-- as if Shooter was whispering directly into his ear. Dizzy folded his arms against his chest and tried to relax his suddenly-tense muscles. Shooter seemed to notice it, and started humming a soothing tune.

I need a favour, he said eventually, after a few moments of silence. Shooter's humming stopped, and he waited, strangely patient for once.

Can you do this? I don't feel up to it right now.

It was the first time he'd ever asked Shooter directly to take control. Usually it was something he fought tooth and nail against-- but not tonight. Suddenly tonight, all he wanted to slip away into that coma-like state that accompanied Shooter's moments, and just not pay attention. The sudden urges he was getting were scaring him, and lack of control was something he couldn't have while on a job.

Shooter seemed confused for a moment, and the emotion pulsed in Dizzy's head before fading to something calming and blue. Of course. You're tired. Of course.

Dizzy sighed, feeling drained. He didn't want to let go, but common sense told him it would be for the better. He felt tendrils of Shooter's consciousness poking at his mind, trying to find the cracks that would allow him control, and Dizzy let go without struggle. For a moment, he felt like he was falling, and his muscles tensed, before suddenly he was just.. not there.

The disembodiment would never be something he'd grow used to. He watched Shooter, who looked like him, stretch his arms up above his head and give the faintest smile. To any passerby, Dizzy was invisible-- and in logical terms, he no longer existed.

Is that her? Shooter asked without moving his lips, staring at something across the road. Dizzy looked. A girl in a blue dress walked through the park, talking softly on a cellphone.

Yes, that's her, he said dazedly. Shooter grinned visibly this time and started walking, slow and unhurried, across the street.

Confident he knew what he was doing, Dizzy's soul closed its eyes and slipped off into a deep sleep.

--

Making sure Jennifer wouldn't notice him until he was only a few metres away, Shooter ambled lazily through the trees. He watched her turn down a path, and followed at a good distance, waiting until she was a bit further along to make his move.

She was close enough now. "Hey, pretty!" Reaching inside himself, Shooter let time speed up to his natural pace until he was just a blur, and lunged forward, intent on grabbing her by the shoulders. He prayed she was just a normal girl-- going after a meta with fast reflexes wouldn't be good for his plan.

[Jennifer Duhamel]

Something changed in the air and Jennifer frowned, eyes drifting around as she slowed her walking pace a little. It was odd, the weird chilling sense she got but she kept walking, keeping her thoughts on work and nothing more, nothing less. She'd need to be in early tomorrow if she wanted to get a jump start on her cases.

She heard the voice only a moment before she was jerked into someone's grasp. "Hey, pretty!" Turning her head at the sound she didn't so much as catch a glimpse before a scream tore from her, from both fright and shocked surprise.

She jerked at the grasp and the few things she'd been taught in training kicked in after a moment's hesitation. Her foot slammed down hard on her captor's own foot and she twisted so that her elbow struck a solid stomach, her wrist giving a painful twist. Gasping she looked up with wide brown eyes. "Who are you?!"

[David Smith]

Shooter couldn't deny it-- he loved it when they screamed.

However, his luck seemed to be wavering, and not a moment after he'd grasped the girl by the shoulders did she respond with defence of her own. He wasn't paying enough attention to avoid her foot, and the jolt of being elbowed in the stomach slowed him down, his grip on time wavering. He grunted, but didn't dare let go of her.

"Who are you?!" the girl exclaimed, and he met her gaze with a frightening grin.

"Oh, just a friend!" Shooter laughed despite himself, the pain in his stomach forgotten. It was always boring when they came willingly, anyway. He decided to forego his usual speed advantage and fight on her plane of existance-- a little challenge for himself, a little fun.

Let's see those lovely eyes, sweet.

Moving quickly, Shooter let one of Jennifer's shoulders go to grab for her wrist instead, intending on sharply jerking her towards him. "I have a message for you," he said between movements, hoping she'd be distracted enough by what his hands were doing to not notice his foot hooking behind her knee, wanting to throw her off balance.

[Jennifer Duhamel]

"Oh, just a friend!" Her eyes widened at that and she looked away, intent on seeking out a familiar face or somebody to help her out. There was nobody out there though, they both knew that. They were isolated near one of her favourite paths, it being one of her favourites because people hardly ever chose to walk past it. He loved the peace it almost always brought her, aside from now of course.

His thoughts rang through her mind and she clenched her eyes shut, thinking furiously on what to do. Her concentration was broken however the moment he touched her aching wrist and she cried out, jerking painfully to get it away. His mind was an open book to her though and all her mental barriers fell away, allowing the thoughts of everyone within a hundred metre radius' thoughts to strike her like a pickup truck. Gasping she looked down at his leg and then his face. "I have a message for you."

Without a second thought she brought her knee up, aiming forcefully for his groin. "Go to hell!" she hissed, spitting at his face. She was pissed, no, beyond pissed and her survival instincts were kicking in harshly.

[David Smith]

"Go to hell!"

Not a second too soon, Shooter realized his mistake and danced sideways, mentally sagging with relief. That would've hurt more than he liked. However, the disadvantage presented him with an opportunity-- Jennifer's leg, the one he'd initially been aiming for, was off the ground, and as he jumped out of her way, it was only a matter of aim for him to kick forcefully at the back of her other ankle with his heel.

As he let go of her wrist, the way she'd yelped and tugged it closer to herself didn't go unnoticed. Suddenly, her charming face didn't seem so sweet anymore. Shooter wiped the spit from his cheek, grimacing. The girl was irritating him-- no, insulting him-- and making life difficult was not a thing any sane person wanted to do for Shooter.

He thought about his gun, but it could wait. Something about using a gun to threaten an annoyingly feisty victim made him feel wholly inadequate.

Oh, just trip already, you bitch.

[Jennifer Duhamel]

Jennifer cried out as her ankle felt a sharp stab of pain and she was falling, head hitting the ground with the same force as her back, the air knocked completely out of her small body. She groaned and rolled, fingers gingerly and sluggishly moving to feel the back of her head. She seemed alright and as she opened her eyes her gaze landed dizzily on the man before her. Breathing heavily she stared at him with wide eyes. "What do you want?" Her voice had no room for venom as it was merely full of question and misunderstanding. Why would someone attack her of all people? Her purse was on the ground beside her and her cellphone under hear side.

Licking her lips she slowly moved her arm down in what looked like she was rubbing her side. Her fingers slid up her phone and she quickly punched in the numbers for 911, rolling onto her side and lifting the cellphone to her ear. 'Pick up pick up pick up!' A voice came onto the other side and she cried out with relief. "I need help please I'm at a park and -" she cut off, her memory of which park exactly gone. Shit.

[David Smith]

There we go!

With Jennifer vulnerable on the ground, Shooter took his opportunity. Part of him was just aching to give her a good kick to the gut while she was down, but the sensible part of him knew it would give her time to roll away. Instead, he quickly crouched down while she was distracted by her phone, straddling her stomach and pinning her with his own body.

He couldn't resist a smile. Things were finally looking up, and he knocked the cellphone out of her hand as soon as he was in position.

"What do you want?" she'd asked him, voice fearful. Chuckling, Shooter placed his hands on her wrists and pushed down hard, leaning in close and simply savouring the moment.

"I heard you had a run in with Miss Brianna earlier!" he whispered excitedly. "She didn't like that very much. Can I tell you something?"

Shooter simply breathed in Jennifer's lovely scent for a second or so, before tilting his head down and ghosting his lips across the shell of her ear. His voice was quicker now, the adrenaline getting to him. "Miss Brianna has people looking out for her, love. Please don't make threats you can't keep."

[Jennifer Duhamel]

A yelp emitted from the petite brunette as her phone was knocked from her hands, eyes instantly flashing up to the man atop her. She made to speak but his hands clenched around her wrists, her left one throbbing in pain as it was. The slam they received had her releasing a pained scream, eyes clenching shut and body jerking to get away. She wasn't used to this, she couldn't handle this. More than anything else she just wanted to be at home, curled up in bed with a hot cup of chocolate.

His lips parted and she stared at him in horror, waiting for his words to come. "I heard you had a run in with Miss Brianna earlier! She didn't like that very much. Can I tell you something?"

A gasp escaped her and she stared with wide eyes at the man. If he was talking about who she thought.... She swallowed. Rage and fear racing through her, a pounding rush of blood in her ears, so loud she could hardly hear. "What?" She hissed.

"Miss Brianna has people looking out for her, love. Please don't make threats you can't keep."

"I made no threats!" She cried out, struggling violently, the pain in her wrists forgotten. "Let me go! Get off of me! Help!" She was frantic now, the panic setting in as she screamed at the top of her lungs. Somebody was bound to hear her. Somebody was always walking this time of night. Hopefully they'd make it in time.