Garnet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
twoscompany) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
interstellar55552016-02-16 01:30 pm
twoscompany) wrote in interstellar55552016-02-16 01:30 pm
Entry tags:
LOOKING FOR SOMEONE
Who: Garnet, Koumei, Molly, Pinkie, Greg, and Jamie
What: Where Are They Now? The Scoobies Come Together!
When: February 19th
Where: A club booth/Lesedi and Edward's offices later
Warnings: The characters in this log will be getting in trouble with the labels, so brainwashing, injuries and torture, implied or otherwise, is very likely.
It started with a simple text that evening. Well, no, that was wrong. It started with a knock on the door that morning.
Garnet had wanted to check on Nariko, on all of her bandmates. All that responded to her was silence. She kicked open the door, and was met with nothing. As if the bedsheets had never been used, or the bed even slept in at all.
Nariko - the girl she saw as a daughter, their lead singer - gone. For hours she sat on that bed, her hands over her face. Once the tears dried, however, she balled her fists and stormed out of the penthouse. She wound up here, at this club, typing on her cell phone, a grim expression set on her face.
Pinkie, Koumei and Greg. If others were at the club, and wanted to join in, fine. She didn't think there would be others, though.
P3nn Station. 8pm. I'll pay.
Its a sophisticated little place, a jazz club with a good clientele, a good waitstaff - and a good chance they will be left alone for the most part. She might be asked to perform. Otherwise, though, the guards could have their own drinks, and she would be able to talk freely with those who came.
If they came. As time ticked away, she knew her idea was contingent upon people arriving, much less be amenable to it. If this didn't work out, well - this was a nice club. She could come here again in the future.
What: Where Are They Now? The Scoobies Come Together!
When: February 19th
Where: A club booth/Lesedi and Edward's offices later
Warnings: The characters in this log will be getting in trouble with the labels, so brainwashing, injuries and torture, implied or otherwise, is very likely.
It started with a simple text that evening. Well, no, that was wrong. It started with a knock on the door that morning.
Garnet had wanted to check on Nariko, on all of her bandmates. All that responded to her was silence. She kicked open the door, and was met with nothing. As if the bedsheets had never been used, or the bed even slept in at all.
Nariko - the girl she saw as a daughter, their lead singer - gone. For hours she sat on that bed, her hands over her face. Once the tears dried, however, she balled her fists and stormed out of the penthouse. She wound up here, at this club, typing on her cell phone, a grim expression set on her face.
Pinkie, Koumei and Greg. If others were at the club, and wanted to join in, fine. She didn't think there would be others, though.
P3nn Station. 8pm. I'll pay.
Its a sophisticated little place, a jazz club with a good clientele, a good waitstaff - and a good chance they will be left alone for the most part. She might be asked to perform. Otherwise, though, the guards could have their own drinks, and she would be able to talk freely with those who came.
If they came. As time ticked away, she knew her idea was contingent upon people arriving, much less be amenable to it. If this didn't work out, well - this was a nice club. She could come here again in the future.
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"What's the plan, then? You know I'm with you."
It was shameful to even ask but, without the resources he knew he should have, he didn't quite know how this 'invasion' would turn out.
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Maybe setting a fire could be a thought.
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"Who else have you contacted about this?"
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"We'll need to find a way to monitor her schedule first-- as that would be the easiest way if you want to do a break in. Otherwise, we may need to get a little....theatrical."
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Flaring out his fan, Koumei waved off the suggestions in a gesture that was almost dismissive. "Our answer might be far simpler:" he added, and drew his fan close to his face-- as if to hide.
"We start a fire."
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As if he would ever do legitimate damage to the building the lived in. Looking up at her from behind the fan, his eyes glinted with a steel that was unexpected for the quiet, self-effacing pianist.
"We just need them to think that there's a fire. That's all."
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"Remember, we can't let our emotions run away with us. Mistakes happen that way, and it's no good for anyone."
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Which one did she get that from?"So we'll have some of us go up, maybe throw beer cans to get people away from the doors, fake the fire, then the rest get up to the office floor. We should be able to pick the lock once we're all up there..."no subject
"That sounds about right. It's not perfect, but we don't really have the resources to do much better. And, like you said, getting too many people involved will just put everyone at risk; we don't want to make life more complicated than it already is."
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It was worrisome, that there was a similar operation happening on Virgo's side, with even less support.
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She can't see much else beyond that, between now and the will be, for some reason. If it even is the true will be. Surely it will be.
Greg had to be all right.
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