pullmeoutalive | beck lyrics go here (voice testing)

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!ramey

beck lyrics go here (voice testing)

In 2036, a fourth dimension was discovered. This new dimension, named Dimension W, was the source of unlimited energy, which was tapped into by devices called coils. Now, electricity and fossil fuels are a thing of the past. Everything is coil-powered, from cell phones, to vehicles, to robots.

Loser is an art thief of the most unusual kind. He made his debut by hijacking the communications network of Paris, projecting his image over the Arc De Triomphe, and announcing that he would be stealing a painting from the Louvre. The police naturally arrived to intercept him, but he managed to slip away without getting caught. Since then, his heists are always announced by a calling card, and are gaudy spectacles broadcast to the masses. He's actually got quite the fandom.

He's never managed to actually steal anything, hence his moniker. So, why does he do it?

That might be the real mystery.

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[ Loser was kind of one of those weird cultural phenomenons that the authorities didn't quite know what to do with, but his appearances always went about the same way:

A calling card would appear, somewhere public and conspicuous (the lucky person who found it would inevitably make millions auctioning it online).

The target, while not always announced beforehand, would usually be a piece of work that had already been in the media lately, because of an exhibit or being recently recovered.

On the day of the heist, the crowd would already start to gather. People in Loser merch and cosplay (yes, really), would press in around the property, and the authorities would have their hands full just keeping them back.

Once night has fallen, it's only a matter of time before the communications in the area would totally black out, and there would be Loser, image projected before the crowd, where he announces his heist with a flourish. Usually followed by fireworks and the appearance of the man himself in some ridiculous way or other.

Shenanigans naturally ensue.

Loser's calling card had appeared only a couple of days prior, which set everyone's eyes on the recently-discovered painting of a deceased artist ( some bizarre abstract thig called The Falling Dance) that was to be inducted to the art museum in the capitol. There was talk of postponing the ceremony, but the curator had insisted he wasn't worried about a thief who had never actually managed to steal anything.

But privately, he know that being Loser's first victim would pretty much ruin him, so he had shelled out a pretty handsome sum for extra security.

The party for the induction of the painting was winding down, and the crowd outside was begging to grow restless when, at long last, the comm systems hiccuped and restarted, and Loser's voice boomed: ] Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, I have come for The Falling Dance!

[ There's something a little weird about calling in a thief to stop a thief, especially when the newly appointed guard actually has a rap sheet and more than a few stolen goods still in his possession. His guns, for instance. The jacket he's wearing, for another. The ship he came in on, the five hundred credits in his pocket, hell, even the pen he's currently twirling between his fingers.

Peter's just not really sure if the curator has thought this through, is what we're saying.

But here he is, sitting and waiting, placed in his strategically chosen spot within easy line of sight to the painting in question; the other guards have been placed elsewhere to cover all their bases. (Peter doesn't get art. It is not his thing. Which is why he has no shame in admitting that he thinks the painting in question looks dumb.) When the comms finally cut and the thief of the hour's voice cuts in over the speakers, Peter tucks his new pen into the pocket of his jacket and taps the trigger for his helmet. The mask flows up around his head, and he stands at the ready, keeping an eye on the possible entrances around him. ]

[ Loser opts for a zipline as his way in this time around, and glides onto the roof accompanied by an impressive fireworks display. He dances around with the guards up there for a short while- he doesn't kill them, merely incapacitates- before making his way down.

And, well. As far as ways in, he goes for something direct.

There's a buzzing noise from the ceiling above Peter's head, and a perfectly circular-shaped chunk of ceiling, wiring, and support beams suddenly drops down, the thief following shortly after. ]

Edited 2016-04-04 04:06 (UTC)

[ Did they let bees in here? That's weird.

A quick glance up proves to Peter that, no, there are no bees -- no hornets or hummingbirds, either -- and he obligingly steps back a pace or two as down comes Loser, building innards and all.

He also keeps a gun trained on the guy, so there's that. ]

Um. Hi?

Hello.

[ Well, this is a surprise, though the only indication Loser gives is the way he slightly cants his head to one side. Would that he could see this man’s face, he’d have Elizabeth- his daughter and advisor on outings such as these- run a check on his identity. Well, he supposes he can’t blame him for not wanting his face featured in every news media outlet in the country.

Papa, says Elizabeth in his ear. The emblem on his jacket.

Ah. ]

A mercenary? I suppose I should be flattered.

[ Peter shrugs. ]

If you wanna look at it that way, sure.

Sorry about the lack of welcome mats and red carpets. We weren't sure which way you were coming in.

[ He chuckles, though the sound is little more than a low rumble behind his mask. ]

I do like to maintain an air of unpredictability.

[ Speaking of, he springs forward suddenly, propelled by the coil-powered devices in his shoes, not unlike being on rocket-powered rollerskates. His gauntlets flair to life with blue electricity, and he slashes at Peter’s gun arm. ]

[ Peter lets out a startled yelp, throwing himself to one side and narrowly avoiding the blow. The other thief sails past, and Peter dances back a few steps, maintaining the distance between them. Peter's a decent brawler, but with the other guy's super-powered whats-its in play, Peter would rather take his chances at range. ]

Sooo. [ he drags the word out as he's unholstering his other gun. ] I guess we're starting, then? 'Cause I feel like that'd be good to know.

[ Loser spreads his hands, the coils on either palm glowing with blue light, and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. ] Surprise.

[ He darts forward again, stabbing at the mercenary’s chest with armored fingers. He’s not sure if the local authorities will arrive to help this man or not, but he’d rather not stall too long. There’s a cheer from the crowd outside, as Loser’s two little drones circle the men, broadcasting the fight. ]

[ He dances back, determined to keep at least an arm's length -- or specifically, Loser's arm's length -- out of range. Admittedly, it means he's giving the other guy the advantage, but Peter doesn't want to try his chances against those gauntlets. He lifts his gun, taking careful aim before firing a bolt of electricity, which--

Misses Loser entirely. Wow. You had one job, Quill.

--Actually, no, it hits one of the drones just as it's swinging around behind Loser. Apparently Star-Lord doesn't like being on Candid Camera. He's also pretty sure he was supposed to have signed a waiver before Loser broadcast his likeness all over the place. ]

Not a fan of being on television, I take it?

[ The other drone hangs back, bobbing a little uncertainly ]

That's a shame. You've got the face for it.

[ lol ]

I've always thought so, too. [ there's a smile in his voice, even if it's not visible; he keeps both guns up, and while he keeps his attention on the other thief, he tracks the camera's movements from the corner of his eye. ]

Call me old fashioned if you want, but I've always thought bashin' a guy's face in was a private affair, you know? Something you keep between the basher and the bashee.

I can appreciate a man with old-fashioned values, but my fans are expecting a show, and I would hate to disappoint them.

[ So saying, he leaps at Peter this time, bringing both gauntlets down in an overhead swing. ]

[ He doesn't have time to throw himself back, and while he avoids getting zapped, he still swears he feels the current from the gauntlets grabbing at his shirt and prickling across his skin. He also falls on his ass, so, you know. That's a thing. ]

[ Poor Peter falling on his ass gets another round of cheers from the crowd outside, sorry bro. ]

Don't worry. I never kill people.

[ That won't stop him from aiming one metal boot right for Peter's head. ]

[ It says a lot that Peter has more than his fair share of experience in fighting on the ground.

So instead of trying to get back on his feet immediately, he instead falls onto his back, which has the happy consequence of vacating the space where Loser has aimed his kick. He rolls to one side, coming up in a crouch. ]

Don't worry. I'm not in the habit of getting killed.

[ He chuckles again. ]

It's a shame you're so camera shy. You're quite the performer.

[ He winds up to attack again, but Elizabeth's voice in his ear once more halts him. Apparently the police are beginning to close in, the fight with the mercenary is making them edgy. ]

I'm afraid I've taken enough of your time. Let's meet again.

[ He sweeps into a bow, just before a cloud of smoke erupts from a small device he's dropped on the floor. With the smokescreen in place, Loser turns tail and runs. ]

Wait--

[ Peter darts forward, but the plume of smoke that blasts from the device startles him. He falls back a pace, waving it away in an effort to clear his sight. When it dissipates and the authorities have entered beyond their self-instated perimeter, the guy is already gone.

Peter deflates slightly. ]

... So, no on the autograph. Okay.

[ He can't have gone far, considering there's another Loser-sized hole in the floor some ways away.

The broadcast seems to have cut out, and the buzz seems to be that Loser is making his escape, but in reality, he's prowling around on the lower floors of the museum. He came here for something in particular, and he can't afford to leave until he's found it. ]

[ well if he's just going to leave holes lying around then he has no one to blame but himself when curious assholes jump down through them, does he.

which Peter does, though at this point he figures he's going beyond the terms of his contract. Maybe he can get a bonus? ]

[ Loser is aware he has a very small window of time in which to work, and made a beeline for one statue in a sea of many. It’s a large steel and bronze piece meant to be a representation of a coil tapping into Dimension W- how apt- and apparently not worth enough to even stick behind glass.

He’s making a grab for it when the sounds of the mercenary’s footfalls reach his ears.

Damn it.

He skirts away from his target as Peter approaches. ]

You didn’t strike me as the type to go above and beyond the call of duty.

[ He shrugs as he approaches, gun still raised, and makes a small noise: ]

Eh.

[ "what can you do?" ]

Call me curious, I guess.

[ He sighs, splaying his fingers again. He tenses, ready to fight if he has to. ]

I really do wish you’d go back upstairs. Your job is to keep me from stealing the painting, and you’ve done that.

[ His head tilts to one side. ]

Which means you're taking something else, right? I mean, I can't imagine you've gone to all this trouble to hype yourself up if you're not gonna get yourself a souvenir.

You don’t know my reputation very well, do you?

[ He’s beginning to wonder if he’ll have to call this one a bust. There had been no good entry points from the ground floor, so he had been forced to come in from the roof. Usually he nabbed what he needed before going after his supposed target, but this time around it just hadn’t been plausible. ]

I can assure you, no one will find anything missing from this museum. [ It’s not exactly a “no”, but it kind of sounds like one. ] So run along back to your employers and collect your paycheck.

Then why go to the trouble? That's what I don't get. If you wanted the attention, go into show business.

What I fail to understand is why you care so much. I have my reasons, just as I’m sure you have your reasons.

[ He motions to Peter’s… all of him. ] I can’t imagine mercenary works is especially rewarding, so why do it?

The pay is good. I take jobs when I want, and when I steal things, they stay stolen.

[ Another shrug. ]

Mostly I wanted to see if you could sign something for me, but I'm thinking we're gonna have to call professional and creative differences on this one.

I don’t do autographs, anyway. I’m sorry to disappoint.

[ The authorities would be analyzing his handwriting every chance they got, if he did, and that’s a headache he doesn’t need. ]

So, where does that leave us, Mister Mercenary?

[ He purses his lips behind his mask, then clicks his tongue. ]

Not sure. Didn't think this one through, honestly. We could fight again, if you want?

I’d rather not.

[ Loser falls quiet for a second, green eyes narrowing as he considers the mercenary before him. ]

Would you be willing to make a deal?

Maaaaybe? [ He draws the word out, giving an inquisitive tilt of his head again. ] Depends what it is?

[ He dips a hand into a pocket on the inside of his coat, withdrawing what looks like a plating card with his face printed on it- one of the calling cards he uses to announce his heists. ]

A simple trade. Collectors have paid upwards of two and half million for an authentic calling card. You’re free to say you wound up with it in our scuffle- it’s sure to fetch quite the price under those circumstances.

In return, I ask that you simply look the other way.

[ He's quiet for a moment, considering. Then, ]

And when I look the other way, do you bop me on the head or something?

Not at all.

I finish my business and I leave. That simple.

I don't even get to see what it is you're doing that warranted all this trouble?

I'd rather maintain an air of mystery while I can.

Boooo.

[ He pauses again, then nods once. ]

Fine. Toss it on the ground.

Maybe next time.

[ As though there would be a "next time".

He gives a flick of his wrist, and the card skims along the tile, coming to rest at Peter's feet. ]

[ He kneels to pick it up, gun still trained on the other thief, and spares only a quick glance down to ensure it's the genuine article. Once he pockets it, he takes a step back, lowering the gun but not his guard. ]

Pleasure doing business with you, then?

The pleasure is mine, Mister Mercenary. [ There’s a smile in his voice, and evident in the slight narrowing of his eyes. He sweeps into a bow. ] Until we meet again.

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beck lyrics go here (voice testing)

yo come at me

mask buddies!! (setting is up to you. we can be on earth or Generic Planet B.)

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