8437/Undercurrents: Hidden Treasure

Undercurrents: Hidden Treasure
Date of Scene:	21 July 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	A drug mule is ambushed at Mercy's Garage. Mercy calls in the police and Kid defends them. Some Hook was seized.
Cast of Characters:	Frank Quaid, Kid, Mercy Thompson
Tinyplot:	Undercurrents

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Frank Quaid has posed:
The reed-thin driver of the green Tercel came in an hour or two after Mercy opened her garage for the day. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt like anyone else and said he was t-boned lightly a few blocks away. The driver's door of the two-door car was mildly dented and there was some cracking in that door's window. The man's complaint was that he could not open or close the driver's door anymore. He was adamant Mercy not worry about the body damage or the window. He just wanted to be able to open and close the door, and be on his way.

Mercy's client filled out her paperwork and sat restlessly in the garage. Fortunately, Mercy had an opening in her schedule that morning. It was good to fill it with a paying customer. When Mercy goes to open the driver's side door of the Tercel, it will not move. The passenger door opens, but it is heavy on its hinges.

Kid has posed:
Ahhh, early morning. It was the best time to eat, work, do more or less everything needed. Study too. Granted in this case, Jua was....slower than normal. He didn't seem sleepy or groggy, he was a night person after all. But even so, he was rarely if ever late. And even when he did come in, he lacked his usual vigor and gusto.

But even so, the massive gorilla was already getting to work. He given mercy a simple wave as well as the owner of the Tercel, before getting to the work bench. As usual he picked up the clipboard and began going through parts. He took it upon himself to often check inventory, as well as any parts they get in to make sure they were quality or not needed. He did the inspect more or less every other day. With him he had his usual satchel filled with tools.

Once glance at the car though and he signs "That is one helluva ugly car. It could....use a paint job" forget the door and window, it was an eyesore! "But the dent doesn't look too bad at least" noting the damage.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy's taking notes with her eyes, thin driver, heavy door, don't worry about the damage, green Tercel....okay the car on its own should warrant a call to 9-1-1 for assaults on good taste. She's half tempted to call the NYPD. She's got this nagging feeling something's not right. Plus if the guy got T-boned, and came in here, he left the scene of the accident.

That's reason enough for Mercy to do the right thing, but not before inspecting the car again.

She's keeping in mind what the driver said. Don't worry about the damage. That's got her hairs on her neck on end. Plus, she agrees with Kid. She starts jotting down the car's details, plate number, make, model, paint job and got the name off the forms. Just in case it's needed. She's cautious.

Frank Quaid has posed:
The driver of the car sits on one of the chairs in the reception area of the garage with his legs bouncing nervously up and down. He checks the time on his phone repeatedly.

Outside, a champagne coloured Escalade with tinted windows cruises by the garage very slowly.

Inside the Tercel is suprisingly neat. There is no garbage, no clutter, no personal belongings. Cars this old did not have wireless charging for phones, but even so it does not have a cable out for the purpose anywhere. A plastic lemon air freshner is clipped to one of the front passenger air vents.

Underneath the reek of artifical lemon scent, there is something else. It is pungent and seductive. The smell pulls gently at the deep recesses of the mind. A gentle tug to find, to enjoy... Something.

Kid has posed:
Kid...wasn't exactly intiuitive when it came to these things. All he smelled was lemon. His stomech rumbles at the thought of lemon. However...something else bothered him much more. A slow drive by was NEVER a good sign in his book, especially with tinted windows. It was always a cause for extra...caution to say the least.
    So on instinct, Kid quietly opens up his mind, allowing him to sense the...emotions of others. To see if they ment harm, or wished to hurt someone, anger, and so forth. While he couldn't direct it, he was adept at knowing where any one emotion was comming from due to recent trainings.
    Kid signs "Heh, well while you handle all that...paperwork junk. I am going to get the tools to work on the door" he signs to Mercy and with that he was opening drawers, and getting out the appropiate tool boxes.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy's not taking chances now. She's firing off a text to 911 with the details, the champagne colored SUV, the Tercel, the smell, the driverr, a description....her location and that Kid was with her. True, it took up quite a few texts. But....the point was Mercy was giving the NYPD quite a lot of info.

That done, she's retreating away from the open bay doors. Living here, she's heard gunshots before. She's got her .444 rifle hidden in her living area, she's got her other guns hidden there too. Though admittedlt shooting somebody isn't her favorred thing. Hiding and staying alive is. She's perfectly fine with running away and hiding from an SUV with tinted windows....and a car that smells not right.

Frank Quaid has posed:
There are a myriad of minds with a kaleidescope of emotions nearby. Eager, dulled, upset, exciting, in love, depressed and quite frankly unstable. But three do stick out for the sheer predatory excitement they exude.

After clarification, NYPD dispatch sends back that a patrol car will be sent along with a rather form text about when to call 911 versus the non-emergency line. Bureaucrats.

It is only a moment later the Escalade is back, /reversing/ down a New York street. Credit to the driver, he manages to avoid collisions though there is no small amount of honking. The Escalade backs right into Mercy's lot and up to the garage doors.

Three Caucasian men climb out of the Escalade with a range of different handguns already in hand. They move purposefully but not hurriedly. They are... Greasy. Biker gang greasy. There is no mistaking it.

The leader, a man with no beard but an impressive build, walks into the garage reception area first. He fixes on the reed-thin man immediately. He simply raises his gun and fires three rounds before Mercy's client can even get fully out of his chair.

The other two come in the door after their leader and do not even flinch at the gunshots. The one with the large beard comes to a stop staring directly at Kid. The other, with long dark hair, pokes his head into the garage proper, looking for signs of anyone else.

Kid has posed:
And Kid is faced to face with a bearded biker and his goons. Kid eyes become pinpricks as he feels every bullet shot. The sensation of life slowly draining, the pain in the ribs, the chest, the heart. Death was comming, weather it was slow or fast - Kid felt it a dozen time every it.

And he hated it.

How many New Yorkers have been charged by a gorilla? Probably not many. Time to see how brave these bikers where. Kid lets out a ferociouse roar and charges the man! And so help him, if Kid manages to get ahold of him....he would throw the man through the air at another of his friends with probably enough force to break bones at the very least.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy's hidden once the gunshots ring out, this time calling 911. The text didn't appear to work, so she stays quiet letting the operator listen to what's going on, every detail of it. Mercy's got her .444 rifle and she's hoping either the cops get here. Or. She has a damn good lawyer. Shaking her head Mercy's silent. She's not grabbed the rifle yet, but she's resting her right hand on the stock, easily able to pull it up and bring her left hand up if needed. Mercy's hearing everything, absolutely everything She's hoping, no, praying to the Native American deities they'll help her in this one, as she's not said a word but not hung up yet. In her mind it's better for the operator to hear what's going on, she did though push a button on her phone to indicate she couldn't tlk, though given she's only ever heard that in those radio ads, she's not sure if that'll ramp up the priority of the 9-1-1 call. Either way she's hoping and praying the cops get here like.....now!

Frank Quaid has posed:
The dispatcher Mercy gets sounds like she is getting ready to pass Mercy off to non-emergency until the moment she mentions gunfire. Then the dispatcher is all business. She starts peppering Mercy with questions but stops when Mercy stops answering. There is the faint sound of clacking keys and voices in the background of the dispatch center.

Then comes a massive roar and the sound of crashing.

"Holy shit!" the biker in front of Kid yells. He starts to back off but Kid catches him before the man can take two steps. Kid hoists the man into the air and throws him into the man standing in the doorway to the garage proper. There is a crunching, cracking sound as they go down. The one on the bottom screams. The one Kid threw starts picking himself up off the ground.

"Motherfucker!"

The leader turns and stares for a second, too long. He starts to bring his gun around to point at Kid.

"Fucking gonna kill you bitch!" he yells.

Sirens start up not far away.

Kid has posed:
Kid was an absolutely...predator at times. No sooner had he throw the man, than he started going after the third one...the one with the gun! As the leader begins to draw, as he spoke, Kid was already charging him. He lept...and he was comming down hard.

Kid wasn't super human, but he didn't have to be. He was the next best thing - a total animal. One with enough strength to crush bones, and tear flesh. Or in this case, if the leader is too late, he will quickly find Kid biting into his shoulder, massive sharp canines digging into the muscle. But it was worse than that, Kid was begining to drain the Leader Mind. Of course Kid won't go far as Killing him, but boy was he not being kind about it.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Sirens. Good. Mercy hears sirens, and she redoubles her prayers. There's no way she's waving a rifle around. It's a matter of survival. Mercy Thompson, walker, mecchanic, and trouble magnet, Mercy though is wanting out of this situation. She had a feeling the Tercel was trouble.And the cops will want to shut her garage to do their CSI thing, she's thinking.

Frank Quaid has posed:
The leader of the three does not move fast enough. He pulls the trigger twice and the rounds go into the floor. Kid rushes him and bowls him through the glass window at the front of the garage. The man hits the pavement with the back of his head and skids to a stop like a fleshbag sled for Kid.

A black Tahoe screeches into the lot and stops abruptly. Red and blue lights flash in its grill. Frank Quaid climbs out of the passenger side.

"You again? Kid, I'm sure you weren't shooting," the plainclothes Frank Quaid says. He has his gun in his hand but it is pointed down to the ground. The woman who climbs out of the driver's side brings her gun up in both hands and points it in through the open garage door.

"Police! You're under arrest! On the ground now!" the tall, dark haired, middle-aged woman orders. The biker getting up of the ground puts his hands up and stops.

Kid has posed:
Kid releases the mans shoulder, and wipes his jaw on his arm. The man was definintly going to need to be bandaged up that was for certain. Needless to say with emotions running high, his lips were already bared at the officers. But he has been through this...several times.

He gets himself back undercontrol, shutting out everything that...wasn't himself. It made things easier. He slowly backs up...and than lays down. The cops were not there to see what happened, so he was guessing he was as likely as the other trouble makers to get dragged away untill things are sorted. But he was at the very least, not trying to cause them more trouble.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
Mercy hears the police and peeks her head out the door, she opens it and raises her hands stepping out. "Don't shoot. I'm the one who called 911 officers. I own this garage" she says, smartly leaving her guns in the living area. She's got them all legally owned and registered to her as she carefully comes out of her living area hands raised. Mercy's in no desire to be in cuffs. Foggy Nelson and lawyers are expensive. Shaking her head Mercy's stil got her ears ringing from the gunshots. Curse enhanced hearing.....but she at least is smart enough to keep her hands where the officers can see them.