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| What a Mess! | Started by: Marietta on May 13, '09 14:08 |
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This was humiliating. Nay- degrading. Of all the hundreds upon hundreds of people that worked in her company; the countless goombas and earners and Dons and body guards, it would be just Marietta Rossi's luck that none of them could take five minutes out of their 'oh so busy' days to drop by the bank and do her a favor of making a small deposit. None of them. And no amount of threatening or begging could change anyone's mind. Her accountant being on an "extended vacation" wasn't helping matters either. Perhaps this is why the woman, irritated with narrowed green eyes and clenched jaw, could be found waiting in line like the common citizen at the Henderson Bank off of Woodward Avenue, instead of spending time in her upscale office, shuffling papers around and handing down orders. "Ridiculous," she hissed to herself as she picked invisible lint off of her black blouse. Standing between a rather large man with a musty smell of alcohol clinging to his clothing and a young, emaciated looking woman with a smudge of dirt on her nose was beginning to grate Marietta's nerves all the more. As much as she wanted this to be quick, it was looking like it would be turning into an all-afternoon affair. An older woman, much more so than herself, was standing at the teller's window, counting out her change slowly on the black marble counter top. With a pang of guilt the Godfather realized that she too, could be in that same situation had she not landed where she was all those years ago. As it was, she was quite blessed to be as extremely rich as she was in this economy climate. Yet it wasn't through luck. She had done her best to run a tight-ship in her organization, and had kept things going strong throughout the years of running her business. Yet all the same the petite blonde couldn't help but feel a random act of kindness would do the world some good. Maybe she would ask the teller to make an anonymous deposit into the old lady's account; her own brown, briefcase was weighing a little too heavy in her hands anyway, with all the recent kick ups that had been delivered to her office over the past week. Almost immediately she could hear the rousing laughter from many of her associates if she told them what she was thinking at the moment. "Such bleeding heart" they would chorus tauntingly. Marietta was supposed to be firm. Strong. Sort of bitchy and cold. Well fuck them. This was just in her nature. She'd make sure that the ten-thousand dollars or so wouldn't show up in the books when her accountant got back. No one would ever know. Of it's own accord her foot began to tap on the bright, white linoleum flooring- the only cheery part of the darkly decorated bank interior. Why the hell would they only have one teller staffed anyway? Couldn't they afford the income of two? She would be speaking to the bank manager about this, no doubt. Shifting her weight onto one of her legs she casually brushed her hair back from her face. Aurora and Rourkey would be getting an earful about this excursion later. And just when Miss Rossi thought that her day-trip to the bank couldn't get any worse a squeaking noise reverberated from the front of the bank. The door closed slowly and a pair of soft footsteps- only two or three- made their way towards the middle of the room. Marietta's ears perked in curiosity when they heard a low, almost timid voice state: "A-alright. Hands up everyone. This is a hold-up!" Disbelief painting her face and a sigh catching in her chest, the Godfather turned to see a small figure raising what looked like a gun in it's hand and brandishing it wildly about towards the small crowd. A small laugh escaped her throat as she merely shook her head and muttered "You've got to be fucking kidding me." |
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Pickles was having a bad day. It hadn't gotten to the "use your own gun to kill yourself" level yet but it was damn close. On her way to Detroit she had taken the wrong train, twice. And when she finally got into the city she found that two of her contacts were dead and the third was in jail for robbing a liquor store. It had taken her 2 hours of agonizing, while she stood looking like a frail statue, before she shook off the stupor of failure and deciding she wouldn't send her new boss the telegram she had clutched in her hand. "Mr. Pollitt. Bank job failed. What now?" Now she stood outside of Rossi Savings and Loan, smoking her last cigarette. She'd run out on the train but had been able to get more when she robbed a small mom and pop store just out side of town. Well, rob wasn't really accurate. She skulked around, quietly stuffing things into her oversized raincoat and then appeasing the nervous shop keep by buying a bar of lavender soap. She had tossed the soap at one of the bums huddled over a trash can fire and gone to go find her crew. The fact that two of them had been killed in a bar fight the night before the bank heist hadn't surprised Pickles as much as who they had been killed by. But she didn't have time to think about that. The last key to the heist, her vault expert was in jail for failing to rob a liquor store. How he could fail was anyone's guess but Pickles confidence was at an all time low. And so was her cigarette. She flicked the butt away and watched it tumble end over end, narrowly avoiding the classy high heels of a well dressed blonde woman. The lady didn't even look at Pickles, instead jerking the front door of the bank open and walking in like she owned the place. Pickles shrugged, thrusting her hands deep into her pockets. feeling the cold metal of the gun she had been loaned for this project. She swallowed hard. This wasn't what she had planned on doing with her life. Wasn't she supposed to be singing? But the death of her only mentor and protector meant she had to make hard decisions. After what seemed like forever she finally pulled the gun from her pocket, sliding her hand up into her sleeve and then opened the door to the bank. She quickly assessed the bank patrons and wrote them all off as potential threats. Clearing her throat she popped her right hand out from her coat sleeve and held the gun out at arm's length. "A-alright! hands up everyone. This is a hold up!" Pickles waved the gun around, trying to frighten and neutralize possible threats. She started with the patrons. "Everybody hit the floor, keep your hands on the backs of your heads!" |
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| Reply by: Pickles at May 13, '09 14:41 | |
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Marietta watched, amused, as the young lady and alcoholic man on either side of her put their hands into the air before sinking into the floor faster than you could say "boo". The old lady at the counter turned slowly, taking a moment to narrow her eyes towards the young lady with the gun before gasping in surprise and melting towards the white floor as well. The teller gave a squeak of fright and ducked out of sight behind the counter without hesitation. Yet she herself remained standing. If she were a more stupid person this would certainly spell doom for her. Yet she could tell by certain characteristics that this young woman, the one with the wavering voice, probably hadn't done this much before. As an experienced person in bank heists Marietta's eyes wandered, taking in the way the 'robber' held the gun as if she were afraid of it herself, the way her eyes darted nervously over the other patrons... And if all else failed, her trusty Walther PPK was tucked neatly away in a small holster on her thigh. "You're not actually going to try this, are you?" Marietta murmured towards the young lady with a hint of a smile. For whatever reason she couldn't bring herself to feel the mass hysteria that had hit the rest of the bank- possibly a side-affect to the feelings of utter annoyance she had been feeling all morning. She could've just resigned herself to following the orders of this new criminal, but this was HER bank, damn it. Nobody was going to bully her in her bank. All she wanted to do was deposit her flipping money, leave some to the old lady who was counting pennies, and then get back to her office in time for her lunch meeting with... Without meaning to she let out another laugh. The people on the floor flinched, turning their faces slightly to view her. Dirt-smudge girl was pleading with her eyes, almost as if she were begging Marietta to just get her ass on the floor. With a shake of her head she turned back towards the young woman with the gun. "Well? You going to rob us or what?" The entire situation was taking on a comical feel, and for whatever reason... Mari liked it. |
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| Reply by: Marietta at May 13, '09 16:09 | |
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This really wasn't going the way she had planned. First of all, she needed the teller on her feet, not the floor. Secondly, the armed guards that were approaching her were probably going to shoot her and thirdly, there was one civilian who hadn't hit the decks, and she was a woman. Pickles could feel her gun hand trembling. She had killed plenty of men, but never with a gun and never without a reason. Suddenly, the choice was taken from her. She could feel the heat even before she heard the shot, the bullet missing her ear by centimeters and leaving a chip in the gorgeous marble counter. She whirled around and pulled the trigger, gun kicking back so hard it almost hit her in the face. Well that was just brilliant. She was down one bullet and had missed the shot. The blond woman's question was echoing in her head, louder than the gun shot. She jammed the gun back into her coat and pulled out a gorgeous switch blade, popping it open with a definite "click" With a leap more graceful than a ballet dancer she was at the woman's side, gleaming silver blade pressed gently at her throat. No ma'am. I am not going to rob you. I-I am robbing this bank. She wrapped her arm around the other woman like a gentle embrace and slid her hand down both thighs until she felt the gun in it's holster. Pickles whispered in the woman's ear. I'd thank you kindly if you leave that where it is. Pickles began to scoot backwards towards the counter, looking at the guards. And as for you, I suggest your drop your guns and get down on the floor with the rest of the smart people! |
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| Reply by: Pickles at May 13, '09 18:43 | |
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| Mudkips hopes to himself that the story is not yet over as he was being compelled by it... | |
| Reply by: Mudkips at May 14, '09 11:49 | |
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Prophet walks by the bank during this spectacle, and notices Mudkips sitting just outside the bank, watching it as police start to arrive. In one short sprint, he grabs the kid and walks him down the block. "Listen, bud. You can't just sit there and watch that shit happen! There's cops, security guards, bullets. You best be keeping an eye out for yourself, because maybe the next passerby won't be so friendly." He smiles as the bank goes up in chaos, and continues his stroll down the street. |
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| Reply by: Prophet at May 14, '09 12:18 | |
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The young lady had mustered up enough force to bark her last command, and almost instantly the three men, the guards, dropped their guns and jumped down onto the floor as fast as if they had been stuck with a hot-iron poker. A genuine laugh rumbled up through Marietta's chest at the sight, somewhat unnerving the young girl holding her at knife point. 'Better not press your luck, Mari,' the woman thought to herself. Slowly she moved her hands down the length of her body, pulling her black skirt up just enough to feel her gun in it's holster. Removing it and readjusting her skirt back to it's normal length, she stared at her trusty companion for a moment before gently dropping it to the floor and kicking it away towards the teller's counter. Sighing, the now huge chunk missing out of the marble counter caught her eye. Silently she cursed the guards of the bank. Bad shots they were, the assholes. And as she stared at the interior that was being destroyed in horror, the woman began to inwardly beat herself up. She was being held at knife point. How was she not even feeling the tiniest trace of fear?! The problem was, and she knew it, that she had been in these situations too often to care anymore. Marietta had become desensitized to violence- the one thing she had feared would happen to her when she was young. She now didn't care when there were gunshots, or stabbings, or blood or innards spilling out of bodies... it had all become hum drum to her. Her thoughts were immediately interrupted as the young woman began to guide her backwards. Shaking her head side to side in disbelief, Mari allowed her briefcase to slip from her fingers to the floor and began to move with the robber. After this was all over with she could come back for the money and finally make her deposit. As the pair of women began to move away from the guards and still floor-frozen patrons, Marietta felt the girl's body tremble a bit. Was she more frightened than her already unsure voice had betrayed? And without reason, without really meaning to, or not really wanting to care at all- the Godfather began to feel bad towards this young lady. How many bank jobs had she botched up when she had been new to the business, after all? A sort of motherly feeling was beginning to tug at her heart strings, and with a deep breath she had made up her mind. She was going to help this girl rob the bank. Her bank. "So what's next?" she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. The girl seemed startled. Marietta relaxed in the girl's grip a little and held up her hands in defeat, to show she wasn't trying to pull anything. "I'm not trying to trick you. What's next on the agenda? You have to have an agenda if you planned on robbing this place, right?" Silence followed her question and she felt another feeble tug at her heart. Perhaps the poor girl was terrified beyond belief? Petrified into stone? Raising her eyebrow Marietta decided to try and see just how far into 'This Thing' the young gal before her quite possibly was. Surely she would have heard of the Godfather of Detroit if she were committing crimes in her city? "See, when you said you weren't going to rob me," she whispered, "you were wrong. I own this bank. I own most things around this town... indirectly. If you catch my drift." |
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| Reply by: Marietta at May 14, '09 12:40 | |
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Pickles choked back on her hysteria. She had run with bootleggers for almost 5 years but most of what she did was holding lookout and up close and personal defense with a knife. Their runs had been at night, when darkness cloaked their deeds and slipping in and out of a place was as easy as dancing with oneself. The fact she had thought this out over a train ride and 3 packs of cigarettes was becoming painfully clear. She was supposed to be the lookout. Not the robber, not the safe cracker, not the muscle. But here she was, all four. She swallowed, her tongue dry and rough, scraping the top of her mouth like sand paper. Then she heard the second worst sentence in her life. "See, when you said you weren't going to rob me, you were wrong. I own this bank. I own most things around this town... indirectly. If you catch my drift." Pickles sucked in a harsh breath. Even as her knees buckled, the deadly grip she had on her knife tightened. "So, I am not only robbing your bank, but I am also holding you at knife point, *in* your own bank, in a city you control?" The realization of who she was holding hostage sent a sharp pain stabbing through her head. She let the knife's edge kiss Marietta's throat then lowered it while tightening her arm around the older woman's waist. Pickles cleared her throat and addressed the guards and other bank employees. "I want ALL of you to crawl to the manager's office. Lock yourselves in. Anybody tries to be a hero, she dies." Pickles pointed to the civilians with her knife. "You are all free to go. Crawl out the front door and then run." As she spoke she had continued to back up towards the swinging wooden door that lead behind the counter. She pushed through it with her hip and looked at the teller who was on the floor. "Open the cash drawers, then run. And as for you." In a motion more swift than the fluttering of a hummingbird's wings the slight, blackhaired girl had released Marietta and was now facing her. "Can you open the vault?" |
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| Reply by: Pickles at May 14, '09 18:24 | |
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"You've got to be..." Marietta stifled her words quickly, resigning herself to a sigh as she heard the manager's office door close with a sharp snap, and watching as the young teller quickly opened all the cash drawers then, with an apologetic glance at the Godfather, scurried from sight. Things were not going the way she wanted them to now. Sure, the girl had picked up on who she was... yet somehow that didn't deter her from stopping in her tracks. Or re-thinking her motives. Nope, like she had thought before, she was actually going to assist this girl in robbing her bank. Not like it would matter. Of the several banks she had in 'her name', this was one of the low-end ones. Still. There had to be at least hundreds of thousands in the bank. Hundreds of thousands that she would have to pay out of her own pocket or find some way... And slowly an idea came to her. What if she were able to make a bargain with the young lady? To buy herself some time she glanced out of the teller's window and watched the three civilians- alcoholic man, dirty girl and slow old lady- crawl their way out of the bank's front doors. The old lady was squeaking. Pretending to study them for a moment, she observed the dark-haired girl out of the corner of her eye Marietta. The knife was still pointed at her, still shaking in her hands but not as much. She was still scared, but was slowly gaining confidence. How hard would this be? 'You need to gain her trust,' the older woman thought to herself, affixing a smile upon her face and turning back towards her captor. "Alright. Yes, I can open the vault." Beating herself up inwardly and cursing over the amount of money she was practically handing away, she walked towards the vault with the dial lock on the outside. Pressing herself close to the door to conceal the numbers from the thief, she quickly turned the dial from left to right, plugging in the numbers to her birthday... 7... 16... 9. "What's your name, anyway?" she attempted to ask casually. "I'm Marietta, as you prob-" Her words were cut short. With a metallic 'click' the door popped open. Grasping the handle Marietta shot a look towards the young girl and pulled it open to reveal rows and rows of safety deposit boxes. Waving her arm in a sarcastic gesture, she beckoned the lady inside. "After you." |
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| Reply by: Marietta at May 17, '09 16:39 | |
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Pickles shook her head and herded the Godmother into the vault, snapping the heavy door shut behind them. As expected Marietta whirled around, her face a pale shade of fury. "What the FUCK do you think you are doing? If nobody-" She was cut short by the blade of the knife dancing a little closer to her throat. "It's ok." The girl pushed back a handful of loose black curls and then slipped her free hand under her vest and pulled out a key on a silver chain. "I read up on this bank when I got the assignment. I might know something you don't Miss Rossi. About the bank at least. Now help me find box 780." |
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| Reply by: Pickles at May 17, '09 17:20 | |
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Marietta wrinkled her nose in frustration. The knife, again. Taking a look at the girl's face she decided she could chance taking a liberty at defending herself. After all, she was helping the girl rob her own bank. Batting the girl's hand away like it was an irritating fly, pushing the knife away, she shook her head and sighed. "The boxes are numerical. So if over here..." Gesturing towards the left hand side of the room, closest towards the closed vault door, she continued: "Is box number one, and over here..." She whirled around to point towards the opposite side of the room, holding her hands up towards the box like some sort of junked up, nervous game show host... "Is box one-thousand, then obviously we're going to be looking on this side of the vault." Looking towards the vault door once more, Marietta felt a wave of panic wash over her. The vault door always had to be carefully propped open to prevent instances of people getting locked in. With a defeated tone she heard herself saying: "I can't believe you locked us in here." Ignoring the fear that was welling inside of her, she ran her fingers along the metal of the lock-boxes, passing slowly through the nine-hundreds, making her way through the eight-hundreds... When she eventually hit the seven-hundreds she narrowed her eyes to try and read the numbers more clearly. "It should be around here somewhere." The girl pushed past her to look for herself, gaining a loud "Hmph," from Marietta. Crossing her arms over her chest she tapped her foot subconsciously... impatiently. "You know," she said suddenly, again, "You still haven't told me your name. I think it would only be fair considering I'm allowing you to rob me blind if you gave me at least a name." |
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| Reply by: Marietta at May 19, '09 17:23 | |
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Pickles was more than a little surprised to have her knife pushed away but finally closed it with a click and dropped it into her pocket. It was no longer practical or necessary to threaten her cooperative hostage. Marietta pointed out the numerical orientation of the vault and began walking down the marbled room, trailing her fingers behind her along the cold metal of the boxes. Pickles could barely hear her when she muttered "I can't believe you locked us in here." Her own frustration at how slow the older woman walked bubbled to the surface and she pushed past the Godmother, trying to read the numbers on the boxes herself. Pickles heard the tapping of a shoe and turned to look at Marietta. She looked irritated, arms crossed over her chest, right foot tapping in rhythm with emotions that ghosted across her face. She spoke abruptly. "You know, You still haven't told me your name. I think it would only be fair considering I'm allowing you to rob me blind if you gave me at least a name." After a brief look of shock, Pickles giggled, her hands flying to cover her mouth. But it was too late. Another series of giggles escaped and eventually became a hiccuping laugh. The normally drawn and pale face flushing a healthy pink as she struggled to catch her breath. "I-I am not h-here to rob anyone blind. That plan was scrapped as soon as I found out my crew was dead." She took a long, shuddery breath. "I'm only here for 2 things. And neither of them belong to you." As she talked she ran her fingers over the numbers, stopping finally with a deep sigh. She turned to look at Marietta while she slipped the key she had taken from around her neck into the slot at the top of the box and snapped it to the right. "And my name is P-Pi-Penelope." |
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| Reply by: Pickles at May 19, '09 20:08 | |
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Marietta raised her eyebrow and crossed her arm over her chest. If this woman's name was Penelope, she would eat her purse. Despite the looming sensation that she was being lied to, there really was nothing the woman could do about it at that time. She was unarmed. She was being bullied around by someone who *was* armed. And furthermore, she was locked in a safe. "Well alright, Puh-Puh-Penelope," she said, bristling still from the girl's earlier laughter. "If you're not here to rob me blind you could've simply asked the teller for help getting into your safety deposit box. This is a bit elaborate for making a withdrawal, don't you think?" She narrowed her eyes frostily, watching the girl open the safety deposit box. With piqued curiosity she tried to step a bit closer to see what was inside. 'Penelope', however, was too fast for her. Sticking her hand inside and pulling out the objects, she quickly and swiftly pocketed them. The silence in the room was as thick as fog. "Well?" burst out Marietta suddenly, uncrossing her arms and waving them at her sides. "That was IT?! You came here, got your treasures and now... now what?! We're locked inside a safe! All for nothing! For fuck's sake, girl, at least make it look like a robbery! Jimmy open a few other boxes, take some cash. Do something!" Marietta sighed in frustration, stomping her foot much like a spoiled teenager on her birthday. "And then get us the hell out of here, genius." |
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| Reply by: Marietta at May 23, '09 04:22 | |
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Pickles would've stared at what the box contained but she could feel Marietta coming closer and instead quickly wrapped her hand around the papers inside and thrust them into her pocket. She looked at Marietta when the older woman snapped "This is a bit elaborate for making a withdrawal, don't you think?" Pickles nodded. "Yeah, but I was sent to Detroit to rob this bank anyhow. And the safety deposit box isn't mine, I just had the key for it." Pickles felt the quiet descend on them like a bank of low clouds, the storm brewing in Marietta's eyes. "Well?" Marietta barked, her arms flying out in an expansive gesture of frustration. "Well what? I needed what was in the box, not the money, not anything else. Just what was in this box." She trailed off as she walked towards the back of the vault, fingers running along the smooth marble. "That was IT?! You came here, got your treasures and now... now what?! We're locked inside a safe! All for nothing! For fuck's sake, girl, at least make it look like a robbery! Jimmy open a few other boxes, take some cash. Do something!" As her fingers ran long the marble, Pickles closed her eyes. Marietta stomped and Pickles could feel a sudden, jagged chip. She stopped and dug her switch blade from her right pocket, flipping it open as she heard the Godmother snap, "And then get us the hell out of here, genius." "Sure thing boss!" Pickles dug the tip of her switchblade into the chipped marble and worked the tip down and to the left. The blade shrieked against the stone but with a sudden 'clunk' the tile popped off into Pickles' waiting hand. She grinned and reached into the wall, grasping a small brass lever she popped out and to the right. The back wall of the vault gave a short jerk and slowly began grinding backwards. Eventually it came to a shuddering halt, a large part of the floor disappearing into darkness. Pickles stepped down and turned to look at Marietta "You going to stand there all day?" |
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| Reply by: Pickles at May 23, '09 05:19 | |
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Marietta stood, slack-jawed and opened mouthed, staring back and forth between the girl and the now dark expanse of the floor right before them. With a shaking finger she pointed towards the back wall of the safe and shook her head. "How did you...? Where does? When did...? Why didn't...?" The questions formed in her head yet refused to escape her lips coherently. With bewildered eyes she turned towards Penelope and exhaled loudly. "What the hell did you just do to my bank, and how the hell did you know that was there? Where does it lead?" Staring at the floor for another moment a thought occurred to her suddenly. Did the girl really want her to...? Glancing at the girl's taunting smile she realized, without a doubt, what the girl did want her to do. Taking a look at her neatly pressed black blouse and matching skirt she quickly began to shake her head back and forth. "Oh no. OOOOOH NO! I am not going in there! There could be something fatal down there. Or worse, something that'll rip my brand-new blouse!" |
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| Reply by: Marietta at May 23, '09 05:28 | |
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Pickles stared in absolute disbelief at the woman in front of her. She had met some pretty tough broads before but none of them at EVER stood up to the kind of pressure that Marietta had handled with little more than a few sarcastic quips and stomps of her foot. But now Marietta seemed to be crumbling. Her voice was full of awed annoyance, her eyes wide and skeptical, her perfectly manicured hands sort of quivering. After a few unfinished questions she eventually managed to say something about... her clothing? Clothing? Pickles actually had to shake her head to try to dislodge the stupor that had threatened to overwhelm her. "You're the most powerful person in the city, hell, probably in this half of the nation and you're whining about a blouse? What about the hold up? And the whole being a hostage thing? What about..." Pickles trailed off, feeling stupid. "Listen lady. I am going down into this hole. Which leads to an old speakeasy, which leads OUT. When I get to the bottom of these stairs there is another lever and when I pull it you had better be at the bottom with me or you're getting locked in the vault. And from my understanding, you're the only person who can actually open it. Am I right? Now are you coming or not?" She put her hands on her hips, trying to look authoritative but from the look on Marietta's face, it wasn't working. She heaved a heavy sigh "If you come with me, I'll show you what I took from the box" |
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| Reply by: Pickles at May 23, '09 05:44 | |
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Marietta was a lot of things in her life. She was brave, she was strong willed. She could put a man's balls into a vice-gripe faster than they could say "Taking over your business". But the one quality that she couldn't seem to drop from her younger days as a mere seamstress in Chicago was the importance of clothing. Above all nice clothing that had cost her a pretty penny from her last banking check. If this young girl was going to try and make her ruin her business attire, she had another thing coming. The woman also wasn't used to threats. Especially from young ladies. ESPECIALLY from young ladies robbing... well, whatever she was taking from that bank vault. It certainly wasn't cash, that much was for sure. A feeling of indignation was building up in her chest and without thinking she pointed her finger towards Penelope to say something, but was immediately cut off. And what was all that talk about speakeasies? There wasn't anything under the bank, was there? Of course she had let her associate Vic take care of the actual blueprints and construction with no need for approval, but he wouldn't... would...? At the end of her inner rambling one thing was clear. Marietta didn't want to be locked inside the bank any more than she wanted to be crawling through dirty, dangerous old buildings with this young woman. The latter, however, appealed more to her than dying of lack of oxygen. "Alright, alright, but I'll have you know-" she started to say when the girl suddenly, exasperatedly stated: "If you come with me, I'll show you what I took from the box" "Oh," said Marietta, taking a few steps forward towards the hole in the ground. "Why didn't you just say so?" Overwhelming curiosity- the way to Marietta's heart. Getting on her hands and knees she began to crawl towards the edge of the huge black pit. Gulping silently she looked back up towards the dark-haired girl and grinned weakly. "I guess I'll be going first?" Taking a deep breath she closed her green eyes. "Please don't let me die," she mumble prayed before putting her hands on the floor and pushing her behind from the ledge. The next moment all she knew was she was falling in darkness. |
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| Reply by: Marietta at May 31, '09 17:05 | |
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Pickles heard the "foomph!" sound of Marietta landing and stood back as a plume of dust billowed out of the darkness. After a few seconds of hesitation she clutched her treasures a little tighter and sat down, dangling her skinny legs down into the pit. Before she had a chance to jump she felt Marietta's ice cold fingers wrap around her ankle and with a violent yank, pull her down into the hole. She collapsed in a heap on top of the furious Godmother and didn't have time to get back on her hands and knees before Marietta shoved her off and gave her a sharp kick. "That's for lying to me you little bitch." Another kick followed and as Pickles tried to escape the onslaught she saw a glint of light on the wall and grabbed it, yanking the brass lever down. The sound of gears clanking and marble grinding against marble reverberated so loudly it shook dust from the walls. Finally, the sound stopped with a heavy "clunk." The only sound now was the ragged breathing of both women. Pickles put her fingers to her face, feeling a small trickle of blood. "I didn't lie. Crawl forward 6 feet. There should be a switch." She listened for a response, wondering where exactly Marietta was. Her answer came as the older woman grabbed a handful of Pickles' hair and dragged her forward. "Oh no. I have had enough of you demanding things. What part of 'I am the God Damn godfather of Detroit" do you not get? I don't care if all the jewels of Ali Baba are 6 feet in front of us, I am not taking another fucking order from you. Now YOU crawl six feet forward and we'll see if you're lying to me." Pickles winced as Marietta gave an extra hard twist and shoved her forwards. Even though she was sure she was right, an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia clutched at her heart. Swallowing a mouthful of dust she worked her way forward, finally bumping into a wall. Her slender hands swept back and forth in the deep black and right as she was sure she had trapped herself to die, her fingers fumbled over a small black button. With another dust dry gulp, she pushed the button. |
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| Reply by: Pickles at May 31, '09 17:57 | |
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She could've broken a rib. Or an ankle. What if she had lost an eye? Or worse, a limb from falling into the endless darkened pit? Those thoughts were what kept Marietta's rage at the peak of it's scale as she breathed heavily, pulling her blouse up to her mouth to breathe through the material and not the grime and... and... dust... and... ew. Fighting the urge to slap the girl, the Godmother loosened her grip to allow her to slide forward a few feet. Though she was still feeling particularly murderous and violent towards this young brat she couldn't help but feel a wave of relief wash over her when she heard Penelope scuffle forward to find to switch and it was answered with a shuddering that lasted three seconds then stopped. There was a switch. There was a switch. "W...was that it? What just happened?" she asked tentatively towards the shadows. "I was RIGHT, thank you very much. Crawl out my way," came the answer from the girl. Wincing in pain, Marietta began to crawl on her hands and knees through the gravelly passage that had been untouched for years, it seems. At the end of the path was a small opening, and a pair of legs standing just in front of it. "Move," she demanded as she began to crawl out, causing Penelope to scramble backwards several steps and bump into a table. Blinking several times as she drew herself back to her full height, she allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim light and take in their surroundings. The girl had been right, it was an old speakeasy. Tables and chairs were layered in a carpet of dust; a makeshift bar with bottles behind it was in the same amount of disrepair. To think that this thing was here the entire time and she never knew... For a brief moment she wondered if her contractor, Vic, DID know about this, but quickly put the thought out of her mind. There, on the opposite side of the room, were three doors. Pointing at them quickly she snapped her head over towards Penelope. "Which one?" she demanded. "This little get-together is over, I'm done. And since you seem to know everything about this place... which door is the exit?" |
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| Reply by: Marietta at Jun 04, '09 13:56 | |
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Pickles flicked a switch on the wall and watched as dust covered lights flickered to life, the smell of burning dreams filling the air. She marveled at the layout and wondered if the speakeasy had been abandoned on purpose, or during a raid? Her mind wasn't allowed to wander very long because she heard the Godmother snap. "Which one? This little get-together is over, I'm done. And since you seem to know everything about this place... which door is the exit?" Well that was the 1 million dollar question and Pickles didn't know the answer. She confidently strode to the middle door and jerked it open, finding nothing but a supply closet. She tried the door on the far left and peered into nothingness. She sure as hell wasn't going to go any further into another dark portal and end up God knew where so she slammed the door and walked to the third entryway. Whispering a brief incantation against the evil eye, Pickles pulled open the third door and signed in relief. There was a staircase leading upwards, a small patch of dingy light keeping the passage from being completely swallowed up in gloom. "You coming?" Pickles started up the stairs without a second look back at the furious woman behind her. |
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| Reply by: Pickles at Jun 05, '09 16:07 | |
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