Agent J (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eba02) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
interstellar55552016-04-18 10:05 am
eba02) wrote in interstellar55552016-04-18 10:05 am
Entry tags:
Let's Go To Work [Narrative]
Who: J
What: Desperate times call for desperate measures, and to J, this means working in enemy territory.
When: April 7th and 8th
Where: The clubs in Virgo and Pride
Warnings: None
There was protocol in place for solo missions at the Agency: keep them small; keep them subtle; make sure you can handle the task at hand before you throw in; don't be afraid to call for backup.
Right now, J's breaking all of them. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and the phrase world tour coupled with the knowledge that whatever insane apocalypse the labels wanted is at hand definitely qualifies as desperate times, so far as J is concerned. He's borrowed Papyrus' hologram emitter, because a hoodie isn't going to cut it as a disguise when heading into the labels themselves, and ducks into a cafe not too far from Virgo to try it out. It's weird, looking in the mirror and seeing a face that isn't his looking back, but he can deal with it. It's better than getting caught, at least.
Getting into Virgo isn't hard, though he has to take a few moments to stop and breathe - he can't afford to drown in Blanche's tune. Thankfully, it's a tall tower and the club's further down; the distance helps. Club admittance is just as easy, and he heads on in. He's done this before, and it's a simple routine to fall back into: get a drink, flirt shamelessly, go for a dance or two, don't make waves. Just a normal club patron.
Until the group dance starts.
This is what he's been waiting for. He heads onto the dance floor with what seems like half the club, laughing and grinning and following along with the simple steps dictated by the song itself. Slide to the left. Slide to the right. It's easy, and he falls in step without thinking, instead listening to the Music build as dozens of people dance in nearly perfect sync. He's waiting for that moment all group dance numbers have at the end of the verse: two and a half seconds of freestyle before everyone turns to the right and repeats the entire process.
Cha-cha now y'all
And that's it. He turns and strikes a pose - hard, sharp, quick - and in the half second before he falls back in step with the crowd, the Music shifts. The swirling mass of energy it's carrying sharpens and becomes focused, simmering and ready under his fingertips-
It feels like a mission, he realizes suddenly. Not the quick, quiet endeavors that solo missions usually are - no, this is a full-on, world in unison mission, and for the first time in his life there's nobody on his left and right to help bear the load, to even out the energy in the Music to keep it from overwhelming him-
So he'd better not miss a step.
The club continues to dance in unison, and the Music grows in turn, until it's all J can do to keep in step and keep the Music in check, listening and waiting for his next two and a half seconds of freestyle.
He steps into it, raising his hands above his head with about as much control as he can muster-
And the Music explodes, flowing upwards through the building, rolling over poison and warping and static and leaving whole and full tunes in its wake. It doesn't make it all the way up the building - it peters out about two thirds of the way up, as far as J can tell - but it'll have to be enough. There are enough people in there, enough brainwashed musicians whose tunes are now whole, to satisfy him. He wasn't even expecting to get that far; if he wanted the whole thing, he'd need Derek and Morris with him, and that isn't happening.
It's good enough, for now. It has to be.
He falls back into step, letting the Music ebb and flow as it is wont to do and keeping a careful ear out on the low bass in the background, rumbling unhappily. His work hasn't gone unnoticed; he's not in any danger yet, as far as he can tell, but he can't stay for long.
So he finishes the song, and then another; he pays his tab with a smile, and flirts a little more; and he leaves on the heels of a group of friends all exiting the building, not dropping the disguise until he's half a dozen blocks away and in the bathroom of a hole-in-the-wall bar. Okay. Mission complete. One down.
Tomorrow night, he goes to Pride.
What: Desperate times call for desperate measures, and to J, this means working in enemy territory.
When: April 7th and 8th
Where: The clubs in Virgo and Pride
Warnings: None
There was protocol in place for solo missions at the Agency: keep them small; keep them subtle; make sure you can handle the task at hand before you throw in; don't be afraid to call for backup.
Right now, J's breaking all of them. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and the phrase world tour coupled with the knowledge that whatever insane apocalypse the labels wanted is at hand definitely qualifies as desperate times, so far as J is concerned. He's borrowed Papyrus' hologram emitter, because a hoodie isn't going to cut it as a disguise when heading into the labels themselves, and ducks into a cafe not too far from Virgo to try it out. It's weird, looking in the mirror and seeing a face that isn't his looking back, but he can deal with it. It's better than getting caught, at least.
Getting into Virgo isn't hard, though he has to take a few moments to stop and breathe - he can't afford to drown in Blanche's tune. Thankfully, it's a tall tower and the club's further down; the distance helps. Club admittance is just as easy, and he heads on in. He's done this before, and it's a simple routine to fall back into: get a drink, flirt shamelessly, go for a dance or two, don't make waves. Just a normal club patron.
Until the group dance starts.
This is what he's been waiting for. He heads onto the dance floor with what seems like half the club, laughing and grinning and following along with the simple steps dictated by the song itself. Slide to the left. Slide to the right. It's easy, and he falls in step without thinking, instead listening to the Music build as dozens of people dance in nearly perfect sync. He's waiting for that moment all group dance numbers have at the end of the verse: two and a half seconds of freestyle before everyone turns to the right and repeats the entire process.
Cha-cha now y'all
And that's it. He turns and strikes a pose - hard, sharp, quick - and in the half second before he falls back in step with the crowd, the Music shifts. The swirling mass of energy it's carrying sharpens and becomes focused, simmering and ready under his fingertips-
It feels like a mission, he realizes suddenly. Not the quick, quiet endeavors that solo missions usually are - no, this is a full-on, world in unison mission, and for the first time in his life there's nobody on his left and right to help bear the load, to even out the energy in the Music to keep it from overwhelming him-
So he'd better not miss a step.
The club continues to dance in unison, and the Music grows in turn, until it's all J can do to keep in step and keep the Music in check, listening and waiting for his next two and a half seconds of freestyle.
He steps into it, raising his hands above his head with about as much control as he can muster-
And the Music explodes, flowing upwards through the building, rolling over poison and warping and static and leaving whole and full tunes in its wake. It doesn't make it all the way up the building - it peters out about two thirds of the way up, as far as J can tell - but it'll have to be enough. There are enough people in there, enough brainwashed musicians whose tunes are now whole, to satisfy him. He wasn't even expecting to get that far; if he wanted the whole thing, he'd need Derek and Morris with him, and that isn't happening.
It's good enough, for now. It has to be.
He falls back into step, letting the Music ebb and flow as it is wont to do and keeping a careful ear out on the low bass in the background, rumbling unhappily. His work hasn't gone unnoticed; he's not in any danger yet, as far as he can tell, but he can't stay for long.
So he finishes the song, and then another; he pays his tab with a smile, and flirts a little more; and he leaves on the heels of a group of friends all exiting the building, not dropping the disguise until he's half a dozen blocks away and in the bathroom of a hole-in-the-wall bar. Okay. Mission complete. One down.
Tomorrow night, he goes to Pride.