Logs:Operation Fat Tuesday
Operation Fat Tuesday
|Characters:||Fen, Lance, Jeanie, Ramsey|
|Summary:||Mardi Gras is in danger. A cursed float could destroy the festivities. A team of strange, strange strangers assembles to contain the threat.|
The A-Team Theme
The smoky room in the back of an old Flying J truck stop, mugs of affordable and decent coffee sit on a conference table in front of folding chairs. The smoke smells heavily of weed. Because it is. Because Ramsey is super stoned. Some got here by whispers on the dark web. Some by word of mouth. Some followed a link on craigslist. Some just got handed a note. But they are here. The perfect team. A random team. A perfect random team. At the head of the table, Ramsey sits with a blunt the dimensions of a cigar, sleeves rolled up, wearing suspenders and khakis, like a middle manager chairman, a map on the table, strewn with various markers along with a couple of gold doubloons and a knife stuck through it into the table.
Actually Fen thought it was a joke and the whole thing was local New Orleans doubletalk for a party. Y'know, with music and dancing. So she's giving Ramsey that long, hard, 'not-sure-if-serious' stare. As inconspicious parties go, she isn't. Little pink-haired things wearing mirrored sunglasses are not the average. Except maybe in New Orleans perhaps. She's wearing a cropped jean jacket, camo tee shirt (with a hole in it), faded black jeans. Sneakers. Concerned expression.
Everything is 100% normal. There is no need for concern. There is no need for EMTs. And yet, here, in paramedic gear, comes model-perfect Lance, with a bag slung over one shoulder that looks very much like it might save someone's life tonight, probably not his own though. At least he has a black jacket over the dark top, making him look a little less conspicuous, his blonde hair pulled back into the tiniest, most adorable man-bun. The jacket helps to conceal the pistol carried there; this is not standard attire for an EMT, but judging by the way his blue eyes cast across the room in rapid assessment, maybe the college jock has a reason to look after his own. His gaze settles on Ramsey, the cigar-sized blunt, the table with the map and doubloons, and his lips purse a moment before he gives a slight up-nod and heads that way.
Out of place as a sore thumb, that's Jeanie. With the Northface jacket and leggings combo she looks like she'd be more at home in a Starbucks than any truck stop, but she's here nevertheless and a crinkled note in her hand. She looks doubtful as she gets a sniff of the air, but the note was pretty clear so she keeps following, only to stop and blink when at least one of the faces she finds isn't completely unfamiliar. "Are you... The Boss?" She glances down at the note again just to be sure before looking back up at Ramsey as if this is all some sort of ridiculous joke.
Ramsey takes a long puff then says "I mean, I guess. You can call me Road House. Welcome. As you all know, Fat Tuesday is right around the corner, and we've already had problems with the crowds and the floats making parades come to a halt. Well. Our Bothan spies have reported that there's one slated for The Big One that's just loaded to the brim with bad juju, and we're going to have to do us a covert mission. We're gonna have to steal the Cursed Float. This is what we've trained for, maybe without knowing it, but all our lives. We're gonna save Mardi Gras." He reaches onto the table and picks up one of the gold coins, slowly peeling the foil off of it and absently eating the chocolate inside.
Fen glances over at the EMT. Who towers over her. Then to Jeanie (we've met before!). And back to Ramsey. "You're high," she points out. Firmly. Because this is crazy talk.
Lance's expression says, unfortunately plainly, that he's thinking about the pros and cons of going right up to Road House to start checking his pupils, to see just how stoned he really is and if there's any other substances at work to prompt such a stellar speech. Perhaps, unsurprisingly, there's something about Ramsey that keeps him from doing more than furrowing his brow and mashing his lips against one another like maybe he wants to laugh. His blue gaze dart to the tiny one-eyed teenager with pink hair, the misplaced admissions advertisement and then back to Ramsey, and what he finally says is, "Gonna share, bro?" Evidently, Lance is in. For whatever this is. He gestures to the weed, just in case he's not making himself clear.
Jeanie isn't sure if Road House is a better or worse name than the Boss, but just shakes her head. The whole speech earns a snicker of laughter and she gives a nod of approval to the tiny, pink haired teen who calls out what they're all seeing. As for her, Jeanie will at least try to reason a bit with stoned crazy. "If this is a bad juju filled float, do you have a plan on how to keep it from cursing us? Aside from don't dive under it for anything, no matter how shiny the beads might be?"
"That's my secret, Hooch. I'm always high." He reaches into a pocket, producing a baggie of pre-rolls, tossing it onto the table to share, grinning when Lance decides to align himself with The Plan. "You'll be Top Hat," he begins distributing monopoly pieces. Fen gets the Scottie dog. Squinting at Jeanie, he declares, "Old timey race car." Then he puts the wheelbarrow in front of himself. "We'll have to cross that bridge when we get to it. But we have to make sure it doesn't get into that parade. Which means we need to steal it. As a side benefit, then if we can uncurse it, we'll have a mardi gras float. But it will no doubt be guarded. You know how those parade krewes are. It's basically like The Warriors out there right now. So we're going to need to exercise stealth, discretion, and the element of surprise. Who here knows how to choke someone out?"
If Fen sounds a bit annoyed, it's because she was totally expecting a party. Also Ramsey should very well remember she doesn't smoke. In spite of wanting to. She resents sobriety. Especially right now. This would all doubtlessly make more sense high. Perhaps if she were stoned she could come up with a better response to the 'choke someone out' inquiry than a slight headtilt.
The human has no such handicaps when it comes to getting high. Nor, though, does he have any particular advantages to being capable while high. But no one's worried, right? This is probably a joke of some kind. Maybe. Does it matter? Not to Lance who's reaching for the baggie, but he stops short to quirk a brow at Ramsey. "Mm," he makes a weighing sort of sound before moving to set his bag on the table. The swimmer looks built for it, but he might lack the training. "I have a fast-acting sedative and a clean syringe?" Somewhere in here. It might be for the best, if this isn't some kind of joke, that Lance not end up with his hands on that bag. Curses are just jokes anyway, right?
If you can't beat them, join them and Jeanie is joining by reaching for one of those pre-rolls and she even fishes her own lighter out of her jacket pocket and offers it to Lance in case he also needs it. "Steal and uncurse, uh-huh." If she sounds dubious, that's cause she's about as dubious as her choking abilities probably look. "How about a diversion instead? I could ask for help for... something." She hasn't quite worked that out yet, but who would expect Sorority Girl #364 of being up to nefarious float stealing business?
You say, "Drugs, distraction. Good. And she's basically The Wolverine," he nods toward Fen, giving an estimation of her abilities. "We can work with this. So, there's the plan..." He pulls the knife out of the table, using it as a pointer and moving around the monopoly pieces as he rambles out a plan, the camera doing a cool Michael Bay circle pan and zoom out, out out until we see the city in top-down view and zoom in to a warehouse north of the Quarter where several floats are housed, a twangy spy theme playing on an iPod shuffle Ramsey stole from someone in a bar fight.???
==Scooby Doo Theme==
Fen generally has authority issues and no particular respect for the law. She does know, from hard earned experience, is that she is not particularly anonymous as wanna-be criminals go. Even without the hair. This put an early end to her dreams of being a mastermind criminal. Okay she had that dream when she was 14. It didn't get any further than an unsuccessful bit of shoplifting. And why is she Wolverine? She'd prefer Rogue. Or Kitty Pryde. Not the Australian.
By contrast with Fen, Lance appears to take direction pretty well, perhaps because he's used to working in tandem with his sports team (go sports team!) even if swimming is an individual sport. For all that though, can he really be blamed for giving 'The Wolverine' a long, dubious look? She doesn't even come up to his mid-chest. He glances one more time at Jeanie, before there's a re-doubling of that, 'fuck it' attitude and he's looking over the plan, listening. He'll even contribute what he can, however vaguely, to which parts he can and can't probably be useful for. And, for what it's worth, he, at least, seems to appreciate the spy theme, or would, if it's actually happening in more than just narrative.
Jeanie coughs a little at the idea of the tiny little party girl being Wolverine. Smoke and surprise do not mix well. "Are you going to Fastball Special her right past trouble?" But with that said, she'll nod along as she listens to the plan, maybe even formulating what exactly her distraction will be. At the end, she gives a firm nod. "This might actually work!" And if not well... what's the worst that can happen? Murder by cursed float seems horribly unlikely to one who doesn't believe in curses.
Giving Ramsey ideas is just madness. Good work team! Up the street after our brief pan and montage, Ramsey's old farm truck carrying everyone and their gear wheels along the street, stopping under a burned out street light around the corner from the warehouse, and he puts it in park. Very careful driver when stoned out of his gourd, werewolf healing factor making him at least functional, somehow, maybe. Killing the engine, he looks at each of the members of the crew. "Alright. You know what to do. Let's do this people. If we don't stop this thing, there are a lot of good times that aren't going to roll." And with that, his boots hit the pavement.
What's the worst that can happen? The world is out to get her, so everything. Everything! Ramsey of course knows that Fen is a vampire. What he might be expecting is that she's a useful one. She isn't. She's a little teenager that happens to be recently undead. At least she can probably GTFO effectively if this all goes to hell. Which she expects. Because it's crazy. But she's tagging along all the same, because she makes bad life decisions.
Maybe some people enjoy a little madness, maybe some people just like shit to get a little bit crazier. Lance seems pretty unfazed by it all, except for that long look he gives their excessively stoned driver that looks a little like the word 'R E A L L Y ?' written across his whole stupidly handsome face. But one way or another, they survive the journey, the perils trek, the odorous odyssey-- wait, that's ongoing. Anyway, they get there, right? So Lance is sliding out of the car with his bag on his back, the relevant items to hand, tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Bad life decisions are a bonding experience, a common thread they just can't shake. What's a little death or maiming among friends? (Whether or not they're friends... well.)
Maybe the madness of Mardi Gras in contagious since Jeanie is piling on into that truck. She might even be HUMMING a little bit on their way to the warehouse because who can resist a little bit of mission impossible theme given the situation? Once they come to a stop, she takes a deep breath as this is actual time and makes a not-to-effective attempt to wave away some of the smoke from her clothing. With a deep breath, she's off on her mission, actually jogging a little bit as she turns the corner to where she saw a few potential Krew-members loitering, waving frantically. "Hey! Hey! Has anybody seen a dog about yaaaaay big?" She's holding her hands less than a foot away. "He's my chihuahua and got out and he really needs his medicine or else he'll DIE!" She can keep spewing facts about this non-existent dog and his numerous medical ailments as long as anybody will keep listening...
Ramsey crosses his arms, blunt in the corner of his mouth, nodding proudly as Jeanie begins, using the distraction techniques. He makes a fist in the air, then an arrow point, nodding to Fen, indicating she should come with him around the back, and tells Lance "Go back up Racecar. Observe and sedate." This is going to be amazing. Looking up at the building he sees a second floor window open, then looks at Fen, lacing his fingers in the universal sign for boosting. It's on!
The young vampire is feeling a bit upbeat about this all now. Not as much if she were high, of course, but positive. This is still all very stupid, but it's a fun sort of stupid. And she'll follow Ramsey along, because really he appears to have the best idea how to pull this fool thing off. And if it goes wrong she can just blame him anyway.
THERE ARE GUNS! Finger guns. Lance's finger guns. At Ramsey. You probably got a little excited there for a minute, so sorry about that, but Lance is on it, Boss. Off Top Hat goes, but enough steps behind Racecar that his approach might well seem a separate incident. He's shrugging the shoulders of his jacket back far enough that his EMS logo can be seen with his patches looking all official. If it so happens that there's some scotch tape? Yeah, listen, he's a broke college student, so that's scotch tape over his name; maybe just enough to blur it and not bring trouble to his door. He's not a man of words though. He can give the rote lines pretty well, "Hey, man, how's it going. Just doing a routine sweep." It's Mardi Gras after all. People need those EMS teamsters checking on the dehydrated or drunk in a ditch, right? "All good here?" And, you know, if there comes a point where he needs to jab a sedation needle into someone's arm, it's all good, right? RIGHT. Nothing could go wrong with this.
"Oh, good!" Jeanie might have been beginning to lose one or two of the Krew members, but she seizes on Lance's arrival by literally seizing on his arm and dragging him right on past the pseudo-watch table where a game of hold 'em seems to have been interrupted. "Do you have any insulin with you? My dog, his name is King, like King Cake! Is diabetic and he's been missing for hours. I swear I saw him run this way. He likes to hide under cars when it gets real busy like this!" She'll keep the prattle up, growing louder and louder even as she tries to walk over towards a cluster of trucks parked behind the fence. The intrusion at least keeps most eyes on her as she starts crouching to look under the vehichle. "Here, King! Come here! Do you want a scooby snack?" She pats at the pockets. "Crap. I must have left them in the rush." Any way, back to dog calling and slowly progressing through the parking lot.
The folks up fromt are assaulted with information, looks of confusion but gamely going along with it. "Oh yeah, we'll help." None of them really think someone is gonna like, TRY TO STEAL A MARDI GRAS FLOAT, after all. They come along, starting to look, shouting "King! King Cake!" One of them accepts handsome hydration help, as well. The pre-gaming having lasted for days leading to dehydration. Along the side, Ramsey whispers to Fen, "Alright. I'm gonna get you through that window. While they're distracted, you drive the float out, we'll rendezvous at the lake." That's the plan. This is all the plan.. This.. This is the.. The PLAN! Fen gets Fastball Specialed. Perfect arc. There's some heat on it, Ramsey's high school baseball career coming back to him, sending the young vampire through that open window silently, like a launched ninja from a T-shirt cannon.
Fen was just thinking how the grifter's deal isn't for her. She's comfortable lying her way out of a situation. But INTO one, well. That's a special breed. No, social engineering just isn't her OH FUCK. And now she's through a window. Technically in a pile on the floor inside the window. Hopefully the same floor the window is on, that this wasn't a second story window without a second story inside it. And even if there is, none of the mortals are about to watch her pick herself up from such an improbable landing. And grumble. Of course SHE'S the one who gets thrown about. Unfair. Welp. Now to find the float. And drive it somewhere. Fen doesn't know how to drive, of course, but that's par for the fuckin' course innit. M'be she just can find a door somewhere and open it to let in someone who knows which pedal is the go button.
"Oh, y'all, this way!" Lance doesn't often show off his very native drawl, but there it is to set those big dumb idiots at their ease. Let's be clear, Lance is a shitty liar, but he makes it fast and at least a little convincing when he says, "I see him!" and "Oh, shit, y'all go that way," he points the Krew the way he'd been starting to lope, "we'll head him off--" and reaches out to grab Jeanie's hand if she's even close enough to be grabbed and start booking it in a path that... yeah, sure, more or less looks like it's going to go the right way. Is it as flawlessly beautiful of the launch of a tiny, punk flying bat out of them sweet Ramsey arm guns? NAH, but shit, it gets the job done. If Jeanie can keep up. If not, he might have to carry her, but then they'll just blend in with any drunken idiots they run into, if they can each manage a few Mardi Gras, "WOO!"s once their paths diverge from the Krews'.
Jeanie is no fool. When walking into a potentially dicey situation, she's sticking as close to the athletic looking dude as possible. Her arm is definitely in grabbing range and she'll run along yelling. "King! King!" And at some point just in case the Krew is still listening she'll yell a "There you are!" Just for good measure right before darting into that WOO!!!-ing mass of people to disappear before eventually meeting back at the rendevous point and hopefully celebrating.
Well. The only way out of this situation is by wheelin' it, apparently. Which Fen doesn't know how to do, she's sure she'd mentioned. But Ramsey.. er... Bosswhatever dude.. was high AF and probably not paying attention. So after finding her way into the cabin - which was well hidden by decorations) she finds someone left the keys in. And after some inspired poking of pedals and switches (and sliding the driver's seat forward as far as it would go) the little vampire manages to get it moving to freeedom.
Standing at the corner, Ramsey watches the humans run off into the street, leaving the krewe dudes on a merry chase while Fen channels the spirit of the road, turning the float onto the road in the other direction and absconding with the cursed vehicle art. He crosses his arms, nodding. Yes. He loves it when a plan comes together. He chomps on the butt of his giant blunt, then wanders to his truck to go pick people up and head to the rendez vous. Safe another year. Not today, Satan. Not today. Not with The Dream Team protecting this town.
Queen - We Are The Champions