|
|
Post by halfpint on May 23, 2011 0:41:29 GMT -5
Go out and find a mark. Someone with money. Someone who would be easy to scam. Someone who would take them in for a while. Half Pint didn’t much like that idea. He ran away from the group home and he had no desire to be under someone elses roof. Though technically he supposed that it could considered as such when he squatted with the rest of the Sect. Formalities. Whatever. He wasn’t happy about this shit at all.
Tony, pretty much an overall good guy was telepath. He could read other people’s minds. It was a good parlor trick. Same as Half Pint’s gifts. It was easy to make a buck off the street doing what they did. Unfortunately a buck wasn’t enough to stop the warehouse from crumbling down around them in a Category 5 hurricane. No one had that kind of power, not one member, but then again they were all kids. Well Tony was nineteen, but he didn’t have to worry about being hauled around by DCF like the rest of them.
Still you didn’t defy Tony’s orders. Not with the muscle he had behind him. Besides he was just tryin’ to look out for the kids. Here was the spin on being taken in though. They were supposed to boost whatever they could from the rich digs. Get enough money that they could move the Sect to someplace safe. It wouldn’t be easy, but everyone in the Sect had some sort of powers. They could pull it off.
Half Pint wasn’t sure about stealing from people like that. He didn’t mind fighting to survive or stealing food or clothes or whatever they needed, but stealing shit from someone’s home? Well that was a different story. That could draw attention to themselves and cause a helluva a lot of problems. Especially for Half Pint.
His name was well known in South Florida. The boy who’s parents had been murdered. The boy who had been found lying in a pool of their blood. The boy who had been stabbed by his foster father so many years later. It’s why he ditched his real name and stuck with the name given to him the group home. Half Pint, cause he was a hell of a lot thinner and scrawnier than a boy his age should be.
Pushing all that shit from his mind he wandered the streets, looking for anyone who might do. Taking off his gloves he shoved them in his pockets and let his hands graze the people of those he passed. They didn’t have to be overly rich. They just had to have a home, a place with nice things. That’d do.
The flashes that ran through his head hurt, like someone stabbing a thousand tiny needles into his brain. There were plenty who fit the bill, but it was the other glimpses he got of them that told him if they were right. A workaholic would not fit the bill, neither would an alcoholic. A person with too many kids was out.
Finally his hand brushed across some ladies. Long dark hair. She had a daughter, a home, and a business. She smiled a lot, but was scared a lot too. She wanted to help people.
That worked for Half Pint. The fact that she was a woman was just a bonus. He wouldn’t have picked a man twice his size no matter what he saw. Turning, he watched her walk down the street. He followed up behind her and bumped into her accidentally on purpose. When she stumbled he caught her arm, closing his eyes letting the vision sweep him completely this time.
In a matter of seconds he saw the woman, a bit of her past as she tried vehemently to find her daughter. She had suffered a lot, lost a lot, but her heart was still good. Abruptly he let go and blinked up at her almost dazed.
“I’m glad you got her back. Jessie. Your daughter.”
His jaw clenched, wondering how his life would have been different if his mom had been life. Then, he shoved his hands in his pockets no longer needing the use of his power and acted though as if to walk away. If she called him back the bait will have worked. If she didn’t, Half Pint would have to find another mark.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chevrolet Winchester on May 23, 2011 9:25:37 GMT -5
 It had to be said, if anyone had asked Chevrolet Winchester two years ago, where she thought she'd be today, she would not even been able to fathom what she currently had. The youngest child of a hunter, a girl raised in amongst a war, surviving financially because she dad was a pro at defrauding credit card companies and living her life determined that love and a family would wait until she'd made it as a 'Winchester'. Now here she was, nearly twenty two years of old... Daughter, boyfriend, her own house and a REAL job. She wasn't hunting, she wasn't obtaining everything she owned illegally... She was doing it all herself. She'd been sure for so long that hunting was all she wanted to do. It took her daughters hazel hues and a day in a recording studio to show her other wise. That and nearly losing her own life and her little girls within the space of 48 hours.
This week was.. Well she wasn't sure if it was one of the perks of the job or the downfalls. For the first time since she'd got her back at the end of December, Chey was leaving her girl for more than a few hours. For an entire five days actually. She knew she had to have faith in Deklan. He was Jess's father. That didn't stop her employing her mother as a live in nanny for the duration of her stay though. While the work Chey had to do was in Miami, the fact that she only needed to spent three of the five days she was away working, it encouraged her to travel a bit, go to other places. Today, here she was, twenty three miles north of Miami in Fort Launderdale.
Her morning had been spent catching catching up with an old friend from the Academy and then the rest of the day just begged for her to explore. It was the first time she'd actually been there so the curious kitty inside her was itching to explore. She felt about as far from a hunter as you could get, wearing a light floral dress with bright yellow accessories and her hair flowing over her shoulders in effortless curls. She looked and felt girly, hell even quite normal. It was so hot and sticky out that she was glad for the lack of clothing, and the freedom of not having to look 'smart' for work. There was a spring in her step, despite the fact the heat had her feeling like she should be a melted lump on the floor.
It was in Chey's DNA to be naturally suspicious of her surroundings, It was a habit she was trying to shake for the sake of her girl. Who wanted the neurotic mother constantly looking over her shoulder? Chey wouldn't have. It was part of the reason Chey hadn't anticipated someone barging straight into her. Throwing her arms out, Chey made a desperate attempt to keep her balance as well as trying to 'catch' the other person. He seemed to hang onto her arm for a moment, her eyes watching him intently before he suddenly let go. He spoke to her... telling her he was glad she got Jess back and then just seemed to walk away. She blinked after him for a moment, her chest moving rapidly as her heart beat a mile a minute in her chest. It literally only lasted that moment before she stormed towards him grabbing him by the back of his clothes and dragging him into an alley. Quickly, Chey spun him, her hands on his shoulders as she shoved him hard against the wall. It was only then that she realized he had to be about four inches taller than her. Remaining fearless, Chey glared up at him. "Who the HELL are you, and what on earth was that???" [/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by halfpint on May 23, 2011 16:09:59 GMT -5
There were a lot of things that Half Pint was expecting. Shock, surprise, awe, maybe a little confusion. Okay maybe a lot of confusion. That was the idea though. Disorient the mark so that they saw what Half Pint wanted them to see.
What he was not expecting however was to get turned around and slammed into a wall. He managed to tense up just in time to keep his head from bouncing off the brick walls. Head injuries were bad news for Half Pint. He could take a punch. Hell he could take a beating, but his brain was scrambled enough with out having it rattled around. On top of that it could trigger a seizure. Half Pint didn't want to show off that he was a sick kid. That would only make this harder.
Reaching out he shoved the woman back. It was the wrong move he knew, but it was instinct. "Don't touch me!" His heart was hammering in his chest, adrenaline already starting to course through him. He spooked her. That was good. If she had been a guy though he would have come up swinging. He didn't like to hit women, but he would if they hit him first. Half Pint didn't get beat down by no one without fighting back.
"Sorry, ma." He said quickly trying to repair the damage. "I got a thing..." He realized he could use this actually. "Like when I bumped into you and caught you." Half Pint held up his hands. "I saw that thing about your daughter."
He reached into his pockets and pulled out his gloves putting them back on. "Shoulda been wearing these, but it's a hot day. Was makin' my hands sweaty, yo."
That was a blatant lie. Even if they did make his hands sweaty he would always wear them. He had to take them to get the mark though. "Didn't mean to spook ya or nothin."
Half Pint worked his jaw. He hated the words that were coming from his mouth. He hated the fact that he was doing this, but he had no choice. He was being a hell of a lot more submissive then he liked.
Once the gloves were on he ran his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. "Can't help what I see, yo."
Then he waited to see if she would still hold onto the bait. If he'd be able to real her in, getting one step closer to his goal.
|
|
|
|
Post by Chevrolet Winchester on Jun 7, 2011 2:08:46 GMT -5
Despite behind shoved away, Chey stayed close to the young boy, her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. She wasn't sure if she even genuinely thought the young boy posed a treat, but heaven knew that for as long as she'd had Jessica back, Chey had been ridiculously paranoid. When you feel like you're spending your life looking over your shoulder, it starts to come naturally. The more he spoke, the more her face lightened up. He was just a kid, to look at him at least, and she genuinely didn't think he meant her harm, yet at the same time, she sooooo did not buy his story. She nodded her head as she listened to him try to bullshit his way out of it. The boy confused her if she was honest. She didn't get it, she didn't get him.
One hand sat on her hip, her hand curled up in a fist in front of her face, her thumb gently resting under her chin as she watched him. "You got a name kid?" She asked, slowly dropping her hand and letting out a sigh of a breath. "Sorry about... You know... Throwing you... I just.. Well I don't know what you saw but GOD knows I've had enough trouble to deal with." Yeahhhh. To those in the know it wasn't so subtle but her hand was seconds away from grabbing the gun strapped to her leg, and the youngest Winchester was taught by one of the best. She wasn't slow and she almost never missed. She still didn't get this kid though. She didn't understand his motives, especially if he was just a kid and she was right that his story was a load of rubbish. Guess she'd have to find out. [/blockquote] |
|
