14828/Loose Ends

Loose Ends
Date of Scene:	21 March 2023
Location:	Manhattan Subway Station
Synopsis:	A pair of tourists pick the wrong station to catch the train in. Fortunately they have Sinister to protect them! And a Nick. Somewhere. Maybe.
Cast of Characters:	Phantasm (Drago), Sinister

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Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
It was a dark and stormy night.

...

Fortunately the subway is underground providing a bit of shelter from the rain. This does not stop the sound of the rumbles above to sing a duet with the rumbles of the express speeding through, not even giving this stop a thought.

It's the wee hours of the morning and several stops are not serviced as frequently as others. This would be one of them. While the more seasoned New Yorkers know to walk the extra few blocks to get one of the more commonly served spots, there is this type of traveler who does not know these things.

TOURISTS.

There is a currently one such couple lingering at one of the benches. An odd pair as they do not look all that similar. A rather plump woman takes up most of the bench, arms just slightly moving with the added layering of the winter time clothing slowing her movements. But the man with her stands nearby. Slim as ever with the only sort of depth provided coming from the just as fluffy winter attire. In his hands he is holding a very gaudy map with a cartoon Statue of Liberty wearing Sunglasses. "Any minute now."

The woman arches an eyebrow at the man, "You said that ten minutes ago, Jack."

"Well, yes but I didn't say WHICH minute."

While the pair argue away, another form sits idle on the other platform, leaned forwards with his hood pulled over. Three tracks separating them from the bickering couple, and judging from how he doesn't look their way, he's either wearing headphones under that hoodie or dead. Judging from the backpack on his back, odds are probably with it being headphones.

But there is another watching. Deep within the tunnels where the shadows conceal. And while they do not speak.

They are watching.

Sinister has posed:
The rain and englishmen are old and fast friends. That doesn't mean that the english have to like it, but they usually come prepared. Stepping down into the darkened and deserted platform, the tall figure wearing a broad brimmed hat, a long leather trenchcoat and an umbrella in hand, sports black gloves, black pants, black boots and a crimson paisley vest, head stooped and watching his own feet as he trips the stairs down. The turnstile makes a squeak and a thunk as it turns and Sinister attends to the brolly, fastening it with a shake and a glance to the rather fancy raven handle.

The dark is a friend to many things, himself also at times. And to phantasms, that sit on benches with book bags and beats in their audio, whether they are listening to it or not. Maybe he's learning Mandarin? Or listening to the works of shakespeare. Or just wearing the noise-cancelling for the noise cancelling. The train is late, which isn't a surprise, but surely the tall doctor walks in the surety that nothing in the dark is more loathesome or dangerous than himself. Yes?

So why is he looking down into the tunnels with a slowing of motion? Why does that give him pause to stalk along the platform toward the couple -- opposite side to Nick, it seems.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"Jack. We've been waiting here for too long. The train's not coming!"

Jack leans against a support beam, folding his arms as he looks to the woman who more than takes up the full of the bench. "If it wasn't coming, then what's he doing over there?" Jack tilts his head over to the waiting man on the other platform. "He came in around the same time we did and he's not fretting. We're fine Bertha."

Sinister coming down the steps to their side of the platform makes Jack smile. "And see? Another person has come to join us."

"JAAAAaaaccckkkk...Just because they're here doesn't mean they know better. That one over there could be just as stupid as you. He was so zoned out he missed the train that was here when he came in. Now he's just sitting for all time to flow by while he listens to his music. I'm more inclined to trust the one who just came in."

A plump finger extends over towards Sinister. "You! When does the train get here?"

Despite the noise generated by the large woman complaining, Nick remains seated, giving the general appearance of tuning out what is going on. But tuned out is the furthest thing he is doing. The distance does allow for him to hide the fact that the headphones aren't even on. And with this being one of the less serviced tunnels and the track record of this line in particular well- the sight of the couple entering into it was enough to make him err on the side of caution.

The mention of another entering the station on their side does get his attention however. But, while he doesn't move his head, he does raise his eyes to peer from the underside of the hood hem. The face is a tad obscured though.

Sinister has posed:
Some people are quite ill mannered at the best of times, practically boorish at the worst. Nevertheless, Sinister does reply, "In about," he glances to the side, at the track, listening perhaps. "Five minutes, provided there's no incident on the line. You know how it is, with late night tom foolery." And incidents being deliberately created by others, to allow optimum capture and feed opportunity.

The umbrella is tapped on the platform with a resounding <<THAK>> of the metal point and he stares off into the darkness. A hand extends toward the depths, toward the watchers. Fingers play with the air, then palm turning upward, he crooked a finger and beckons.
    ~Come out, come out, wherever you are -- juicy treats to be had -- nobody here but these two lovely meat sacks and there's a definite gorging to be had from the lady. We do not exist. The platform is abandoned but for them. Come out, come out and feast.~

Mental suggestion usually works rather well on the distracted or the over focused on ... such things as hunger. On the weak minded, also.

"Bertha? Jack was it?" he says mildly. "I would if I were you, hide behind my umbrella." Which is handed over, dripping as it is.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
The mental prompting seems to be more than enough encouragement for those waiting in the tunnels. But as the forms emerge, it turns out not to be one figure, but four. From that spot. Over to another tunnel closer to Nick's side, another set of four emerge. Oddly enough, no one gives Nick a look as they instead start to move towards the couple. And as they are just an idiot couple. They do their best to just seem more of the transient variety. Instead of the vampy type.

Well, at the very least Jack's wife would definitely be something that could be fed upon for awhile. As Jack could make do with a bit more fat in his diet, Bertha could likely do with a bit more lean.

The portly woman frowns to the suggestion. "Your umbrell- I was wrong Jack, they're both idiots. What possible use could ."

Jack looks to the offered umbrella curiously but he's a little less inclined to offer up the criticism that Bertha is SO willing to share for free. Stingy fellow. But as he takes note of the creatures emerging from the tunnels, his eyes widen and a tone errupts from him that manages to silence the complaints filtering from behind.

"For the love of all things holy, Bertha, DO SHUT UP."

Jack reaches over, taking the umbrella. "Thank you." Taking his cue, the tiny man scootches back, standing in front of the face region of his dear wife.

Ignored, Nick moves to his feet. Well. If it's going to be that way- He reaches to the side of his backpack to tug out several drumsticks from a modified opening where the bottle holding fabric is unfastened. He doesn't advance but instead lines up the three sticks into a row and slowly starts to murmur something. Lyrics that pertain to a particular sibling Lucifer may not be as happy with.

There's a slight glow that forms along them before they absorb into the wood.

Sinister has posed:
"Good man," Sinister nods to jack, taking a position in front of the two hapless sorts as the villains of the moment emerge from their tunnel hidey holes, like rats after the garbage truck has left a trail of goodies. His arms akimbo, hands loose and easy, palms up he sizes up the threats to their fundamental wellbeing with his gaze tracking one by one. But frankly, what's going on over there on the bench -does- catch his curiosity and perhaps he watches that for a little too long...

Or perhaps not. With a flick of his left wrist, telekinetic energy hoists his coterie of vampires off thier feet, a twist of the same wrist has them flipping upside down. The shaking to 'loosen the change' so to speak, is probably gratutitous.

His eyes though are on the other platform. What IS Nick doing? He cocks his head, listening for the train oncoming, even as he observes.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the quartet nearest Sinister make their way over, there's a graceful leap onto the platform. Quite odd considering the five foot height but being that Jack is fiddling with an umbrella and they can't see Sinister just yet- it seemed like as good a time as any.

Until the started to lift up off the platform, causing for snarls of surprise as the game faces start forming and the kicks start to become plentiful.

The four nearest Nick take note of the plight, and with a new point of focus, they recognize A figure that wasn't there earlier. They turn, and start to run.

Until one errupts into a cloud of ash. A drumstick clatters to the bottom of the suicide pit.

Determining a threat behind them, the oncoming trio stop and turn, finding the hooded figure standing. Despite their positioning the face isn't visible, be it a trick of the light or a slight modification to the hooodie by sewing on some thin set black fabric that can fold over- Sure that second option seems oddly specific but. WHO KNOWS?

The hoodie tilts to the side, lifting up a glove hand and waving one of the two remaining drumsticks. Leaving their friends to their predicament, they turn back, running towards Nick.

Sinister has posed:
Well now. Sunshine sticks. How novel. "Huh," Sinister relates to the air in general, looking from the incandescence to the vampires dangling upside down and back over to the other side of the tracks. His right hand flicks forward and the drumstick in the suicide pit clatters, then upends itself and flies back toward Nick with record speed, only to stop and hover there, as if expecting him to collected it like the good little mu-gician that he is. Sin looks up sidelong to his four, that gesture of the right translating into an elegant doffing of cap as he rolls his hat to his palm, gazing to the undead minds above. "Sometimes, the light at the end of the tunnel is daylight. Sometimes, it really is the oncoming train." He informs them, looking down and over the edge in a lean as the tattle tale tacker-ti-tack can just be made out -- the express doesn't stop here. That train isn't for another five minutes.

"I probably should pity the driver," the left hand flicks a gesture outward, jerking all four upside down bloodsuckers into the oncoming path of the fast train, humming to himself the tune of Oranges and Lemons.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Seeing the stick flying back to him, Nick moves over quickly. Throwing another one at an approaching vampire before collecting the floating one. With the two remaining vampires emerging from the ash, he throws the third, leaving him with just one stick in hand and one opponent. And yet, he does not throw the last stick. The grip on it shifts, readying for the charge of the final creature.

The train whistle blares. The vampires being held in its path look wide eyed to the shining light. One of them even going so far as to let the last memory of it be how loud he can scream.

There's a loud slamming sound as the engine car is dented from the impact. Instead of bodies, a large gray cloud errupts, wafting all over the platform. Jack, who so cleanly fits under the umbrella is mostly protected from it. Bertha on the other hand-

Well, at least none of it got into her mouth.

The train continues through the station, the shrill scream of the brakes the only signs of it trying to stop. During the commotion, the encounter on the other end of the station is hidden from view. But as the thoughts drop down to the more familiar of the two before it too leaves, its not necessarily an issue when the train moves out of the way revealing no one over there.

Sinister has posed:
And thus is another chapter of life in New York concluded for some. The hat in hand is used to summarily dust off poor Bertha a bit, before Sinister reclaims his umbrella with a "There we go. Train's coming," and a charming smile. "You never know what you'll encounter in the subway. Bag of plaster falling from a vent, can't make this stuff up, can you? Story to tell the neighbours though, when you get home, right?" - And hat returned to his head, crisis in the tunnels averted and no explanation to be given to the poor traindriver who had to slam on the breaks for upside down people hovering in the middle of his pathway.

They probably don't have trauma counselling for people exploding into dust either, but maybe his or her insurance will cover some therapy sessions.

Sinister though, is gone. Into the very tunnel that he just made a vampire free zone, his feet never touching the ground.