ArchivedLogs:Light the Night

Light the Night
Dramatis Personae Rasputin, Regan	2014-03-13 '
Location <NYC> East Village
Historically a center of counterculture, the East Village has a character all its own. Home to artists and musicians of many colours, this neighborhood is known for its punk vibe and artistic sensibilities. The birthplace of many protests, literary movements, it is home to a rather diverse community and vibrant nightlife. The night is crisp and icy-cold but clear, a sharp dip back down into sub-freezing temperatures prompting a /lot/ of people to button up, tonight. Regan is one of those people, dark leather jacket paired with warm gloves, scarf wrapped up around her face like so many other peoples' tonight, keeping the biting wind off of skin. Her blonde hair has been tucked down into the back of her scarf and jacket, a warm black cap pulled down low over her forehead. There's a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder, right now, as she slips out of the front seat of a large dark-green SUV. Her eyes -- appearing brown, at the moment, rather than their usual ice-blue -- skip idly over the buildings across the street, focusing in on one four-story office building for a moment. Just a moment. She tips her head downward afterward, apparently flicking a cigarette out of a case in her pocket, slipping it between her lips to light it up as she leans against the hood of the car. Maybe smoking. Maybe waiting. Meanwhile, a brown and white bird is swooping overhead, flying towards the office building, landing on a nearby car. The bird is glancing at the office building, it's entrance, through the windows for a moment, before attempting to circle it to the side briefly. Once the bird has done this, it's returning back, making several attempts at scouting the building. The cold is not making security duty that much more miserable, but after the protest, it has become mandated that a presence be maintained. One guard stands outside, pacing quietly, hands deep in his pockets, his gaze focused more on movement than any one thing in particular. He's a former cop, one with a distaste for paperwork and a propensity for using whatever means necessary to get his goals accomplished. He unceremoniously left his position when his superiors got too strict. He never gets more than ten feet from the entrance, but does his best to scan down the near by alleys and street corners before turning and heading back to the other side. This time, however, he pauses at the door, grumping at the man inside. Inside, another man places two paper cups of coffee on the reception desk before pulling his gloves back on. He adjusts his scarf as well before grabbing the cups and heading out to his partner. This one is younger, never actually in the force, but a kid who found out he could survey warehouses at night for money. He is rather cheerful, all things considered, and grins expectantly when he places the coffee in his coworker's hand. "Supposed to warm up tomorrow. Man, I just can't wait until spring. I've done enough night rounds that I'm worried for my toes." The other man just grunts and sips his coffee. Regan is taking her time with her cigarette, exhaling smoke up towards the heavens as she taps ash out over the ground. Her head tips back, looking up at the nighttime sky -- possibly watching the movement of the circling bird. << What do you see, little bird? >> Her mental voice slips in quiet, but clear. << Two guards. One positioned outside, one inside. Outside doesn't move much except to check out his blindspots. >> The little bird's thoughts come back clear, concise, and human. Rasputin's still keeping an eye out, as the bird continues. << Inside just came out. >>. The little bird's then flying upwards to glance through the windows and see if there's anyone inside. No one else is in the mutant affairs office. There are a couple janitors finishing up their work on the upper floors, gathering trash bags after all of the work has been done. The two of them meet up in the elevator and discuss other jobs each other have in Spanish, always looking out for their next contract -- and looking out for friends and family. Downstairs, the cheerful one keeps trying to chit chat, talk about the job - but primarily trying to sucker his older coworker out of some stories from his cop days. The older guard shakes his head and heads inside, leaving the younger one out while he takes a leak. << Just came out? Perfect. >> On the street, to all appearances the woman opposite the building has finished her cigarette and is heading off down the street. Invisibly, though, Regan jogs with her bag across the street, slipping into the building behind the older guard while he heads inside. There's a quick glance over the entrance -- watching which way the other guard has headed -- before she follows after him. Unheard, unseen, looking for /keys/ to nab for the office upstairs. << Other exits? >> she is asking Rasputing, in quiet mental aside. << Heads up, janitors just took the elevator. Let's see... service exit in the back. >>. The little bird takes another look towards the exit around the dumpsters to check if it's clear before flying back around the front to keep an eye on the guards and through the windows, also checking for additional exits as ze passes through around. The older guard has to unlock one of the doors to get to the bathroom he likes. The kid took way too long getting the coffee, so he's going to take a nice dump. Let him enjoy that subfreezing weather for a while. He flicks a light on in the hall as he heads back to a staff bathroom. The two janitors stop in the basement, taking a few minutes to put their supplies away and sign out before hefting their full trash bags with them as they leave through the service exit, oblivious to pretty much everything around them. A job's a job, right? Doesn't matter where it is. The young guard seems to have pretty good eyes. When he makes his rounds of the exterior of the building, he sees the back door opening. He pauses for just a second before nodding importantly to the men leaving. "Bu-enas... noches." His Spanish is terrible. "Night, Joe," one of the janitors replies, his English as smooth as a baby's behind. "See you tomorrow." They lift the lid of a dumpster and put their trash inside before heading off into the night. Still quiet-unseen, Regan waits for the man to actually open the staff bathroom door before lifting the keys neatly out of his hand -- it helps that to all /his/ senses they remain still there. On her way back she leaves the locked doors just-slightly ajar for his return trip, heading /herself/ up the stairs rather than the elevator to make her way quietly into the Mutant Affairs office. It takes -- a couple of /attempts/ to find the correct key to let her in. Once inside she unslings her bag from her shoulder, closing the door behind herself securely and scanning the office quickly; this late at night it's unlikely to be /populated/, government employees notoriously punctual about Leaving Work On Time, but habit sweeps the room for exits and layout before she slips further inside. << -- I'm in. Keep a good eye out. >> << Janitors left. Young one's not bad. Is making rounds. >>. The little bird's flying towards the windows, still keeping an eye out below and around, to check for any possible problems, before circling again after about two minutes. Hopefully no one thinks anything strange about a bird flying around a building over and over. A bird at night is extremely strange, but the younger guard is not educated enough to understand that. He just 'hehs' when he sees the bird, drinks some more coffee and continues on his way, thinking the bird sure must be cold and desperate to try to get warm at closed windows. He heads back around to the front. It takes a while, but the older guard finishes his business, leaving the magazine in the bathroom when he leaves. He washes his hands and regloves as he heads out, frowning at the open door but shaking his head, thinking it his mistake. He closes the door behind him as he leaves, heading back into the cold, cold night. Regan gets to work, at this assessment. Quick and quiet, working her way around the room to extract packets from her duffel bag and plant each of them. Against walls, against windows, beneath desks. With all her gear pre-prepped it's a quick circuit, her bag lightweight and empty by the time she finishes. She leaves the security guard's keys on the floor in the office as she makes her way back down the stairway, this time heading for the /rear/ entrance. << Rasputin. >> sounds to the bird up above. << Do you like fireworks? >> << Oh, do I ever! >>. At Regan's mental message, Rasputin is flying away from hir position, first swooping past the front with a loud CAW as a distraction, before giving hirself enough distance away from the building to protect hirself from what's about to happen. << Let's do this. >> The guards meet once more outside, the older one nodding to the younger one. There is a little bit of uncomfortable silence as the younger one tries to figure out how to start up conversation. "So. Did it all come out okay?" Regan heads back across the street to the SUV she had left, unlocking the car with a press of keyfob and slipping inside. << You out safe, little bird? >> It's only after checking up on Rasputin's location that she pulls out a phone from her pocket. Taps at its buttons. Across the street the world erupts into bright-flared-flame. There's a cracking boom at the top floor of the building, a shattering of glass and debris raining out on the world below. For a brief moment, the nighttime sky lights up. Up and down the street, car alarms are starting to wail. Regan turns on her engine, slipping back out into the road. << One down, >> comes to Rasputin. It's going to be a very bright night.