Skate Park Hyjinks

July 26, 2014:

A group of friends and strangers interrupt an mysterious deal involving the Silver Syndicate crime organization

Hell's Kitchen Skate Park

Secluded in an industrial area. A mass of concrete angles, ramps, tubes and half pipes.

Characters

NPCs: Silver Syndicate Enforcers

Mentions:

Mood Music: [http://youtu.be/Gl83mI69nX4 "Kick, Push" - Lupe Fiasco]


Fade In…

Okay… this had started as a bit of mid morning ice-ramp practice at a secluded skate park at the edge of Hell's Kitchen. Which had been going pretty well until it had turned out to be the site of a… drug deal? Something. A bunch of guys had come in through the back entrance and neither he nor they had seen one another until they were practically right next to each other. To say they hadn't been happy that they'd been seen had been an understatement though Bobby still has no clue at all what exactly they were doing. In no time at all there were knives and guns involved and perhaps some ice on people. Possible he beamed a couple folks with hard packed ice balls… maybe made the ground slick so he could flee. Which he is presently doing, from about five people who are, apparently, some kind of werewolf. Yeah, it has not been his morning and he's not that this will go well enough to have come up with a plan that isn't 'get away' somehow. Ordinary street thugs? Yeah he's got that. Werewolf street thugs? Maybe not so much.

*

Amara was going to come and help Bobby out with the whole practice thing. She's picked up a few tricks already from watching him and watching Cal with his powers, and she knows a few tricks of her own. She got a little bit lost on the way, though. So when Bobby comes barreling down the street, she stops short, brows rising. "Bobby?" she calls toward him, tensing uncertainly. "Are you- Oh dear."

*

There were plenty of things on Kwabena Odame's mind these days, not the least of which were rumors of strange, magical artifacts falling into the hands of 'normals', or the emergence of a unique street drug known as 'the smooth' which had made its emergence in Mutant Town. He's been keeping his eye and ear to the streets, a dangerous game given the kind of connections the African tends to maintain. He'd come across news of a drug deal going down at a secluded skate park in Hell's Kitchen, but it had come at a stiff price, and that price was a pretty severe cocaine hangover.

This explains precisely why he wasn't there, hiding in the shadows, when the drug deal was scheduled to go down. His mutant powers have a tendency to go a bit haywire under the influence of narcotics, and after wrecking his bike (again) when he transformed to liquid out of nowhere on the highway? Yeah, that one really ruined his day.

He emerges from the nearest MTA station with a scowl on his face and makes for the skate park with a cigarette in one hand and a styrofoam coffee in the other, no clue just yet what he might be walking into.

*

Joining Amara in helping out with the practice, partly to keep in shape, and partly to work on using body language to get a better read for combat situation, Doug winces as he watches Bobby. "Somehow, Amara, I don't think he's all right. Quick, blast them." And if not, well… Bobby's idea of running away had merit.

*

Lunair is not much for skating. She's nimble, sure. But it never really clicked with her. That's life, though. Sometimes things click, and sometimes not. She's touched by some entity of fate that thinks finding potential combat is hilarious. Or she's haunted by the spirit of a dead D&D character. Hard to say, really. And maybe Clapton was onto something about the cocaine. Although, it's for the better that Lunair stays sober.

Throwing mines at people's head is NOT an acceptable hobby after all. And then she wanders in to take a short cut through the skate park. Werewolves? Stare. There's a long moment. She is forced to come to one conclusion. "Oh god. I've died and gone to Twilight Fanfic." Oh god. OH NO.

So she's going to duck behind something and call up armor. Just be grateful there's no 2 minute sequence of twirling and nudity for her to don it.

*

From a rooftop across the street, Daredevil sits behind a gargoyle with one ear pointed towards the "transactions." He tends to work at night for cover, but has been known to pull double shifts once in a while. Today is one of those days, as the Bale murder has gotten in the way of his day job. As he senses the feral growls of the werewolves, Daredevil grips his billy club.

*

"Hi Amara!" Bobby says as he turns to ice the pavement behind him, and then throw up a barricade to delay the incoming lupine monstrosities. You'd think that they wouldn't want to be quite so obvious, but the skate park itself is pretty secluded and the street leading up to it doesn't see much traffic during peak hours, much less now. Ugh.

"Bit of trouble!" Ice forms around the muzzle of the closest thing. More ice piles on the thing's limbs and it goes down in a thrashing icebound mass… though probably won't stay that way unless someone does something else. Bobby himself is not up to taking on four werewolves solo any more than he is to taking on five, so that something else isn't going to come from Bobby.

*

"I have no idea how much damage they can-" Amara's objection to Doug's advice lasts exactly until one of the wolves makes a run toward her, at which she immediately thrusts out a hand and opens a hole in the earth in front of the dealer, cracking the pavement in a burst of concrete dust. "Bobby, what were you doing?" she exclaims, startled, as she goes molten.

*

Thankful that this part of town doesn't see much traffic, Kwabena slips a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and pulls the rim of his NY Mets hat down over his bald forehead, cocking it just enough to make him look a bit more the part of a street thug, dope boy, or gang banger. Take your pick, he understands American racism well and plays it to his advantage whenever he can.

The sounds of growling, muffled voices, and… other sounds that don't belong in the heat of summer is what first alarms him. He snuffs the cigarette out in coffee, discards the styrofoam cup on an old, graffiti-laden newspaper stand, and starts running. He only slows when he comes upon a cement barricade at the edge of the park, and peers on.

Behind the shades, his eyes go wide. "What in de name of….!"

*

"If they're giving -Bobby- trouble, yeah, blast them!" is Doug's rejoinder. That there was another wolf coming his way gives Doug a bit of a wince. The body language was plain enough - rend him from limb to limb. Which meant take a step towards Amara, as though to seek her cover fire…

… at least until there's a trash can lid, snatched from a nearby can in his hand and a big -clang- in the face of the werewolf. "Little help here?" he asks.

*

Heywait. Lunair recognizes Amara, as she pops out from her Conveniently Placed Plot Shrub(TM). Willy the Groundskeeper is probably a great guy. But she recognizes most of the group and - wait, a Mets fan? They really do exist! Or he likes hats. Maybe he just likes hats. Could go either way, really. But it might be a bit alarming to see a girl in sleek armor popping out of the greenery. But that's how she rolls and she sees that people are in trouble.

And it's mostly people who're gonna be upset if she goes all Killy McPunisher here. That makes life a bit more difficult. She loads a shotgun with silver ammo over her shoulders just in case and decides that it's time for - Cat staff! She pops out behind one of the werewolves and takes a swing at the back of one of the dealers. "Surprise! Hey, people get upset by firearms okay…" Seriously, Lunair is banned from battle cries. Forever.

*

There's a whir that whistles through the air just before a red baton smacks one of the werewolves and leaves it leaping away and yelping an injured canine. From the other side, Daredevil swings out from nowhere and gives a stinging uppercut to the same werewolf in the opposite direction, causing the beast to get some disorientation. From there, his hands move in a blur, smashing into its hide and his back twists, easily dodging its snarling teeth.

*

The lupine monsters are tough. Very tough, but not immune to sufficiently powerful punches to say nothing of Cat Staves, Billy Clubs, Earth Blasts and… well there might something to be said for ordinary trashcan lids not being the best of weapons. Then Bobby throws his hand out in Doug's direction and he has an ice hardened trash can lid. Now in less danger of being immediately rent limb from limb, Bobby turns and fills Amara's hole with ice, hoping she'll take the hint. Water is just as explosive as anything else when suddenly turned to gas. Ice walls go up to limit the werewolves movements and trip them up hopefully without tripping up anyone else.

Now suddenly not chasing one man but dealing with several people not afraid to stand up to them, the lupine attackers response is mostly to lash out in uncoordinated fury though as the fight begins to turn against them a pair break off in the direction of Shift and… hey! That lady has a shotgun…

*

Amara summons up a wall of stone between Doug and the werewolf of the moment, while shooting a blast at another nearby. It takes concentration; the blast she calls up is liquid magma, the sort of thing that could easily burn a hole right through him. But with a careful application of will, she hardens the surface enough to protect from the heat, while leaving the center just liquid enough to reduce the force of the impact. Not that it doesn't still feel like a medicine ball to the chest.

*

A reinforced trash can lid. Great. Except it's COLD to hold, which causes Doug a look of consternation. Still, at least it was a plastic one so it wasn't -that- bad, but…

Backing up as the wall of stone erupts in front of him, Doug resorts to a position where he can at least cover Amara's back, keeping an eye out for Bobby's own position. If he has to, at least, Bobby will be protected by a very crappily thrown ice-trash-lid.

Captain America, he wasn't.

*

Well, these people certainly seem to have it under control. Let's see, one armor bearing chick who can create weapons, one molten girl, a man who can create ice and a dude with a trash can lid. The latter of which is the only one Kwabena is truly worried about, until two of them come his way.

"Shhhhhit!"

He really hates getting caught up in this crap, but c'est la vie. Kwabena darts out from behind his cement outcropping, crouching down and glaring at the oncoming Werethug. If anyone had the time to pay close enough attention, they might see the skin of his face hardening. Well, when the Werethug hits, he goes flying over Shift and into the cement wall behind. The hit catches him off guard, and he ends up tangled up in a tumbling heap with the second Werethug. They wrestle about until the Werethug gets the upper hand. When the gun is pressed to Kwabena's face, however, he grins devilishly.

Five discharges at point blank range, and Shift's head turns into a roiling mass of black smoke and shredded cement. Of course, the Werethug is met with a heavy punch and a kick to the gut that throws him to the side. Kwabena's head reforms. "Nice try, Teen Wolf."

*

Lunair recognizes the others. "Hi! Sorryonemoment," She's a bit busy now that she's got a werewolf buddy after her. Or is it two werewolf buddies? It's hard to say. But somehow she doesn't imagine they want Beggin' strips or anything like that. And then one or two of the guys is going after one of the Last Mets Fans Ever. But he seems happy about it? Is he a big masochist? Lunair never knows and she doesn't have time to ask.

He seems familiar somehow. Nevertheless, she's got to be careful. Shotguns draw attention. A lot of it. It's not like Gotham where a shivving in the kidneys is some sort of greeting. Oh no. She's just gonna have to play werewolf baseball and send him flying with a swing. If she aims it just so, anyway. She's kind of not the best staff user ever (definitely not). She is quiet, because she's not so awesome at this battle banter thing. But her staff seems to be doing its thing.

*

The wolf makes his comeback and leaps upon Daredevil, bringing the red clad man to the ground. As the pair rustle around, Matt's able to get his legs under neath the chest of the beast and put some needed distance between them. In their struggle, the pair go over the edge of the ice ramp and slide downwards, trading blows the whole way.

In short order there is no order at all. Werewolves are launched like golf balls, knocked down by magma medicine spheres, clubbed into insensate states by red leather fetishists and confronted by people who can turn into smoke. There is not a single person here that's normal. The group of lupines turns at a snarl from the largest of the pack - apparently the leader - and makes to disengage, at speed. Screw this, whatever reason initially set them to chasing bobby simply isn't worth it. Except for the one that Matt's got. That one is rather stuck at the bottom of an ice ramp and has a suspiciously strong leather guy atop him.

*

"Thanks guy - crap!" The gunshots and sight of Daredevil sliding down one of his ice ramps catches Bobby off guard and sends him running over to make sure the red on the Man With No Fear remains simply outfit.

*

"How did you even get into this?" Amara exclaims as the wolves start running, shooting a few smaller spheres at the back of the fleeing wolves, just to make sure they keep moving.

*

Shift is taken by surprise when the two lupines don't come back for a second round. He looks from side to side, and drills down on the sound coming from the big guy. The leader. Oh no you don't! A snarl of his own comes through gnashing teeth, and Kwabena takes off at a quickly increasing run for the leader. His boots pound the pavement as he goes, and he leaps through and around the obstacles of both cement and ice, transforming to smoke here and there in order to make the best use of momentum, maximizing his speed. Of course, the first transformation causes his clothing to go flying, now clad in the gunmetal gray uniform that shifts with him.

"Stop him!" he cries out, hoping that the others will follow suit and take up the chase.

*

"It's- BOBBY!" Doug cries out, leaving Amara's back in order to chase the ice-powered mutant down, getting a read on the last remaining werewolf, trying to read its body language. Not that it was difficult, probably a state of panic or anger and a desire to be -free-. Which could mean heavy danger with the way feral animals react…

*

Lunair is relieved she didn't have to use her shotgun. It tends to attract cops like - a mosquito zapper attracts mosquitos. And then there's a guy in red sliding over a ramp with a werewolf. She might've seen something like that in a 90s movie, maybe? "Is um, anyone hurt?" She looks around and then Kwabena is attacking one of the werewolves.

At his shout thought, Lunair nods and will run after, to help. Swinging her staff to see if the wolf is in range. Mind you, she's not going to hurt Kwabena if she can help it. He's one of the last Mets fans left.

*

As the pair tumble, Daredevil loosens his club and uses the line between to begin to strangle the werewolf, pulling the cord tighter and tighter as finally comes to a stop at the bottom of the slide, werewolf over him.

*

The wave of force knocks Shift's mark off his feet, the impact knocking the air out of him and dazing him. What precisely Shift is gonna do when he catches him Bobby isn't sure.

Right now he's really really hoping that the man with the billy club isn't a gooey red puddle at the bottom of one of his ramps. By the time he gets there though, the lupine has slumped into unconsciousness. Bobby breathes a relieved sigh. "Oh good. No one's hurt."

Turning to find Doug running up on him he gives a sheepish grin. "Sorry. I just had to make sure he didn't need help. Um… I don't think we've met. Though… you seem to know my name. Bobby Drake. You're a friend of Amara's?"

*

Amara is making her way through the skate park, slowly melting down the ice ramps and other evidence of the strange left behind by Bobby's practice. "Bobby, Doug. Doug, Bobby," she introduces in the process, looking around in case any more of the wolves want to come out and paly.

*

"Yeah, sorry. Your reputation precedes you. Doug Ramsey," the blond mutant introduces himself, as he drops the lid, turning to look towards Daredevil, and then Shift, before greeting Lunair. "Hi Luna. Um, you need any help with the werewolf, sir?" The last statement is directed towards Daredevil.

*

Well, thanks for good fortune! Shift is already masking up. He doesn't necessarily want these strangers to know exactly who he is, should they come across each other on the street. He skids to a halt and comes down upon the downed leader, straddling the furry monstrosity with legs that harden, boots digging into the cement. Just in case.

In short order, Shift begins rummaging about the werewolf's person, looking for anything of value or belongings. No, he's not mugging the poor guy. He's looking for drugs, cell phones, anything that might give him a clue as to just who these thugs are, what they were doing here, and who they were running with.

"Hella of a show dere," he remarks off hand to the others in a dry tone of voice.

*

Wait. Doug recognizes her even with armor? Gosh. "Hi Doug! Wow, my armor is terrible cover," She looks surprised. And what she sees of Shift, Lunair is quiet. She was chasing the same werewolf as he was, but she mostly knows he's the Mets Fan. She looks puzzled by Shift's actions, and nods at Shift's remark. For now, she simply goes with it. "Hi Amara," She greets Amara in turn. Daredevil is given a curious look and she mostly hefts her staff, ready for any werewolves to pop back up. Worst whack-a-mole ever.

*

"No," Daredevil mutters as he pushes the big lug off his body and takes a deep exhale. Extreme strength isn't one of his powers, unfortunately, and it's taken a lot out of the man. "But thanks." He slides a bit as he tries to get his bearings, but eventually rises up to his feet. 'Where'd these creatures come from?" He slides his billyclub back into his side holster.

*

"Well they were a bunch of guys." Bobby sighs looking about and seeing a brief case and a little satchel laying discarded on the ground. "There were about ten of them in two groups. One took off, the other chased me. I think they were meeting here for something. Maybe they thought I was a vigilante of some kind? I dunno…" Walking over Bobby curiously picks up the satchel and flips it open. Inside are a number of sheafs of very old parchment - well actually papyrus to be more accurate - covered in writing that is quite literally all Greek to the ice nerd.

*

The werewolf doesn't seem to have anything on him at the moment. Where it all goes when he flips out is a really good question. Not that it matters, because there's a distinct scar on the shoulder under the fur. One Shift will easily recognize.

*

Once the ice has melted, Amara powers down, once again just an ordinary young woman. "To be fair, Bobby, the ice ramps are not exactly inconspicuous," she points out with a wry smile, shaking her head. Says the girl who was liquid magma a few moments ago. "Hello, Lunair," she nods politely to the other girl, before getting a better look at Daredevil and Shift. "Thank you both for your assistance."

*

"What Amara said," Doug replies, after nodding at Daredevil. Yeah, it looked like he had things well in hand, though something about him seemed a bit off, body language-wise. Like he wasn't paying attention visually. But that was ridiculous, right?

A look back at Bobby, then, and a curious look. "What've you got there?"

*

He's about to give up, when something catches Shift's eye. He takes a closer inspection of the werewolf's shoulder, then frowns heavily. Without a word, he rises and crosses the distance between his mark and that of Daredevil's, "You again," he remarks to the Man in Red, with a mixture of irony and wariness, before crouching down to inspect the same shoulder on Daredevil's downed beast.

"I thought so." Shift stands up and looks toward the others. "Silvah Syndicate. Bunch of violent, dangahrous bastahds who push guns and drugs through de five buroughs." He regards Amara for a moment, seeming to note her word of thanks but making no verbal response aside from a slight downward tilt of the head that might be a nod of acknowledgement.

The masked African looks down to Daredevil's unconscious foe again. "And here I thought de rumahs were a bunch of BS." Doug's word draws his attention upward again, and eventually over toward Bobby. He's curious, but he's not about to go and shove himself any further into a situation he's not entirely sure he wants to be in on. "Three minutes, four tops. NYPD responds a bit slow to 'shots fired' in dis paht of de island."

*

Lunair is quiet for a moment, listening to Bobby. She looks over to the icy gentleman. And then Shift mentions his thoughts. She frowns. "I see. Do they just happen to be werewolves who sell drugs or drugs that like, let people have similar powers?" She asks, contemplating the horrors a squad of Teen Wolves could wreak on the place. She doesn't seem too ruffled about it all, although she's glad she was fast enough to swat the wolf over. "And really? Huh." She dismisses her shotgun, which disappears into thin air. Ahem.

*

Daredevil gives a solemn nod to Amara and can't help but chuckle as Shift regards him. "Keep coming to my neighborhood, I'm going to keep showing up," he says with a smirk. But as the African mentions the police he can hear them in the distance. "My guess is 3."

*

Bobby is listening, really but these pages are… huh. That doesn't even look like an alphabet he recognizes. "Um, dunnno Doug." He shrugs as he turns to show him one of the old pages. They're very, very old indeed. And original. Doug maybe able to recognize them as being written in Linear A, an untranslated proto Greek language from close to 3000 years ago.

"Yeah I guess they are." The ice mutant grins to Amara sheepishly. "I would use the, uh… gym but this place was closer to my flat. Headed to and from work I don't always have time to stop by the other place."

*

Lunair gets a smile and wave. Bobby's pretty sure he hasn't met her either.

"Wait. You know these guys?" Now Shift has his attention.

*

A similar smirk is given toward Daredevil. "Tree, den. Clock's ticking." Shift's accent is pretty hard to control, unfortunately. It'll probably be a dead ringer for him some day. He walks over toward Bobby, speaking as he goes. "Some of dem, yes, but de fellahs I knew are all dead or incahcerated. For a very long time." He eyes the satchel in the ice mutant's hand with a perplexed look. It's Greek to him, as well. "Undahstood dey used to take some smuggling jobs too. Not typicah work for dope boys and Glock dealahs." He turns away, eyeing those specifically who weren't masked. "Might want to watch your backs for a while. Dose guys who got away? Probably de type who hold grudges." There's a gritty sort of warning in the African's tone.

*

Amara comes closer to get a look at the lettering, then arches a brow at Doug. "Doug, does that mean anything to you?" she asks, though she stays at a slight distance, still a little bit jumpy about this.

*

A similar smirk is given toward Daredevil. "Tree, den. Clock's ticking." Shift's accent is pretty hard to control, unfortunately. It'll probably be a dead ringer for him some day. He walks over toward Bobby, speaking as he goes. "Some of dem, yes, but de fellahs I knew are all dead or incahcerated. For a very long time." He eyes the satchel in the ice mutant's hand with a perplexed look. It's Greek to him, as well. "Undahstood dey used to take some smuggling jobs too. Not typicah work for dope boys and Glock dealahs." He turns away, eyeing those specifically who weren't masked. "Might want to watch your backs for a while. Dose guys who got away? Probably de type who hold grudges." There's a gritty sort of warning in the African's tone.

Finally, he glances Lunair's way. She gets a long, possibly thoughtful look, but with the mask on Shift's facial expressions are limited to what's seen of his mouth and chin. "I don't know. Anything's possibah anymore."

*

"Yeah, it looks like old myths about the origins of the golden apple," Doug replies, as he holds out a hand to take the parchments. That they were old and fragile meant he needed to handle them very, very carefully, he realizes suddenly as he wipes his hands down quickly of melted ice and hand oils.

Taking them in hand, Doug reads. "Huh… apparently the golden apple that started the Trojan War came from… Idun? Norse mythology and Greek mythology intersecting… haven't seen this one before."

Rapidly reading, Doug frowns. "Who -are- these people? Cultists?"

*

Lunair is quiet, listening. She doesn't know much about papyrus and ancient languages. She smiles to Bobby, waving. Especially now that she's dismissed her armor. Can't run around wearing THAT. "Are you three friends, then?" She asks, but then - business at hand. Hm. Smuggling, selling, weapons. She nods at Shift. "It could be. I've heard some weird rumors," She offers. She'll have to look into that later. Who knows? "Though, those were more about demons than guys who need to manscape and shave," She's not above being wry.

A pause. "I'm not sure. Immortality seems like a popular goal, though," She remarks.

*

Daredevil looks as though he's about to leave; cops tend to make him nervous for some reason. Maybe it's because he's one of those vigilante's they were talking about earlier. But as they begin talking about the translations he holds tight, wanting to hear about it before he goes.

*

Bobby blinks and, curiously goes to open the briefcase that was near the satchel. It is, perhaps unsurprisingly, full of money. "Okay well… that's kind of disturbing. So someone wanted to… buy those?" Seems like a lot of money for old stories, but then this isn't really in Bobby's realm of expertise. "I think maybe we should discuss this later? Without the police?"

*

Amara's brows rise when Bobby opens the briefcase full of cash. "This doesn't seem like a very safe place to leave that, though," she says slowly, looking between the others. "Though it certainly isn't ours to keep. I can stay," she offers, eyeing the unconscious wolf. "I am reasonably certain I can take him."

*

"Or dey were smuggling it for someone else," offers Shift. Then again, mention of police has him moving. He's also not going to offer up responsibility for the captured items. While walking swiftly for his discarded street clothes, he says, "Name's Shift." He transforms into black smoke with a poof, the clouds descend into his clothes, and the clothes rise up into the shape of a man filled with swirling black tendrils. They reform slowly, and when he's finally in man-shape again, he offers, "Watch your backs."

Then, he's running, -away- from the sound of approaching police sirens.

*

"I think I'm going with you, Bobby… I want to see more of those papers," Doug offers, falling in step. "I'll meet you at the mansion later?" He nods at the others.

*

Lunair is quiet, yet again. She nods. "Yeah, sorry." It might be hard to explain her having a cat staff and all this werewolf business. She looks to Shift and waves. "Bye Shift, nice to meet you." She offers. She nods to Doug. "Sure thing. I'm really curious," She offers. Then a look to Amara. "If you're sure? I'll be nearby. I can get us some ice cream or tea or something while I wait," She nods sagely. Yes indeedy.

*

Daredevil pulls up his billy club and depresses the button which sends its hook firing off into the distance. He zips away with a tug and a yank and he bounds up to the rooftop of a small building. With another shot he pulls himself up higher, heading west, deeper into Hell's Kitchen,

*

Bobby frowns. "We probably shouldn't just make off with priceless historical documents… wait a second." Setting the satchel down Bobby produces his phone and quickly snaps pictures of the front and back of each piece of papyrus. "There. Not perfect, but at least not illegal. Are you sure you've got it Amara?" Ice manacles form on the unconscious werewolves, both the one Lunair and Shift downed and the one the strange man with the billy club dealt with. "I just don't wanna explain where all the ice and stone walls and such came from…" He seems surprised that she's willing to go through the hassle.

*

"Of course," Amara assures, flashing a brief smile to the others. "I'll be fine. I'll meet you all back at the institute, yes?"

*

"Oh right…!" Taking out his phone, Doug joins in the snapping of pictures. Flashing a grin at the others, Doug pauses as he looks at Amara. "She can just melt the things down real quick and redirect the water into the sewer system. Not a problem."

*

Lunair doesn't get a response on tea or ice cream. Well, she'll pick some up for herself and mosey along to the manor. She smiles back to Amara and nods. "If you're sure." She will take a picture or two with her phone in turn. "And that makes sense. See you guys soon," She nods, and waves. Time to not meet up with the cops.

*

With a nod to Amara Bobby heads off. The fewer of them involved at this point the better. "Come on Doug. We can talk about what exactly is so interesting about old Greek bedtime stories and why it'd be worth several million in cash."

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