Stranger Danger

Blocks and blocks and blocks of warehouses. Even in the setting sun, everything looks the same. It's not cause of the gray clouds stretching in all directions, it's the way the buildings all meld into each other, the way everything looks connected in the end. The windows are busted in here and there, some hints of signs and graffiti, but in the end, everything carries the same look, the same tone, and the same sense of lifelessness.

Which is why, when there's life among the maze of buildings, it stands out even more. In an alley between two of the warehouses, a man stands with a pair of military grade goggles. The dark clothes and body armor almost blend in with the surrounding walls, but it's the movement that draws a trained person's eyes. If the warehouse he were looking at were just filled full of soap stars and political gophers, this would probably be an easy one man job.

But it's not.

It's after twilight and fairly crisp, cool enough that it calls for a jacket. As a treat to all the housebound guests, Cody stopped by one of her favorite places to eat on the way home and picked up a large bag full of food. She's been craving something with a bit of kick to it. Today's menu? Curried lamb with rice, five alarm curry.

She's dressed in a dark blue ball cap with a Yankees logo embroidered on it and a blue nylon jacket with the same logo stuck to the front right side and A-Rod's name stitched across the back. She completely fits in around here. Her short brown curly hair is styled into a 70's Jewfro and with a bit of growth on her face, she looks just like someone that might have stepped out of Welcome Back Kotter. Classic.

The former agent is taking a roundabout way home tonight, the stop at the restaurant necessitated it. Armed with a bag, she rounds the corner a few buildings away from the alley he's standing.

The sounds of movement force the goggles to swing around, changing the line of sight from the warehouse to the Jewfro. The man doesn't recognize whoever the hell it is in his goggle screen, as he zooms in and changes the resolution. It has night vision, that helps him spy his targets better. Also infrared, but he's hoping he won't need to switch to that. It's back up, for suspected invisibility people.

Trying to step back deeper into the alley, he attempts to meld in with the shadows of the warehouse, in hopes of not getting spotted. Just some crazy dude with a bag of food, probably has a homeless friend in the area. Or— he could be one of the targets. Either way, he intends to watch.

The more he captures on his own, the more credit he'll get with the boss.

It's that movement that draws a trained person's eyes and if there's one thing that the scraggly little Jewfro is, it's trained. Without changing pace, Cody walks past the alley; not even flitting an eye toward the goggle wearing man trying to hide behind the dumpster. It's a rookie mistake and she actually kind of feels sorry for him, or she would if there weren't lives on the line.

From her distance, she knows exactly how much of her that he can see. By the amount of light around them, he'd have to switch to an infrared screen which will give him more grain to deal with in trying to identify her. If he's one of the newer agents, she won't have to deal with being recognized… If he's not, she's got a problem.

Once she's rounded the corner to the block, she circles the building to look for a fire escape. The hat comes off and a long growth of hair begins to crop out from her head. The one foot fro becomes two, then three, then begins to braid itself. The rickety ladder won't hold the woman without a considerable amount of noise… so it's time for plan B.

Placing her bag of food near the other end of the alley, Cody strafes along the side of the building as quietly as she can manage.

And there Jewfro goes. Even as the man switches over to infrared, he loses her as the figure rounds the block, leaving him where he is near the dumpster. The man looks up, looks down, but the way the scraggly figure rounded and moved, it's not heading toward his target building. From the way he begins to lower his hands, and not toward a weapon, he seems to have wrongly judged the figure a non-threat. There are thousands of homeless people in the city. Not all of them are super powered fugitives.

And some of them are.

A bit of smoke starts to come from one of the vents in the street, like someone's decided to light a fire down in the sewers, or a furnace vent lets out down there. It doesn't seem out of place enough to attract his attention for more than a moment, as he reaches down into his vest to unhook something, a grenade. A gas grenade.

Bib Fortuna was the man (Twi'lek) back in the day. He had style, a style that Cody Baker is copying now. With nothing better to do with her long hair for the moment, it is being kept well out of the way by simply wrapping around her neck in loose loops and trailing down her back. The smoke isn't much of a concern for her at the moment, some bum is probably trying to warm up before bunking down in a pile of newspapers tonight.

When she is merely inches from the agent, that long tail unwinds itself silently and rises up above her head. Just after the grenade is unhooked but before he has the pin pulled the snake of hair strikes and grabs him tightly by the neck. Cody's hands whip out and grabs his, reefing them behind his back, pinning them.

"Not a good day," she whispers dangerously into his ear.

No, definitely not a good day. The grenade falls to the ground of the alley, hitting the concrete and skittering away a few feet, his mouth opened in a choking sound as the hair-lashes tighten around his neck. Arms pinned behind him, he struggles and tries to fight, twisting his hip around to use his weight, but everything is working against him, the hair makes it hard to breathe.

The smoke continues to snake out of the grate nearby, rising up, bringing the smell of a overheated furnace into the air around them, the burning of cigarettes.

"Let— let go— of me," the man manages in choked gasps, short and with strain. Young, fresh, strong. He may have been a soldier of some kind, but he's not Delta Force.

As he tries to eke out those few words, the hair cinches against itself to choke off his air supply. His arms are wrenched up against his back, should he struggle any further, he might find himself with a couple of dislocated shoulders. "I'm going to make you a deal," Cody murmurs into his ear, "and I'm not in the mood for games, so you can either cooperate or …" Pause. "Or nothing, you're going to tell me everything I know if you want to breathe."

The former agent's eyes flit toward the grate where the smoke is spilling from and she frowns slightly. She's almost tempted to quell the brutal thoughts rising in her head but even the memory of someone that served to protect isn't enough to give her the slimmest itch of mercy.

"Did you report your location, yes or no?" The hair lets up enough to allow a single gasp of air and a one word answer.

In some ways, one answer has more benefits. If he answered YES then she might let him go and run to save her people, because obviously she's one of THEM. That's not a rope around his neck, it's something else entirely. Answering yes might also make her fear back up coming down on her any moment! In some ways it seems yes is the answer to give!

"Yes! They should be here any minute! You should run for it!" he barks out, voice obviously in panic mode.

There's the sound of a snort, a puff of smoke that solidifies into a person. Even his clothes come with him in this form, oddly enough. All leather and dark clothes, he almost seems to give off steam just standing there, like his body gives off residual heat even when he's in normal form. The moisture and cool air reacts oddly to him. Or maybe he just likes having an affect on his environment. "He's lying. I've been following him since he stocked up on weapons and went back out. He didn't radio back, didn't even tell him he may have found a group."

"Wrong answer," Cody replies to the man's panicked cry.

Keeping a hold of his hands very tightly, she closes her eyes and grits her teeth. Then taking a deep, calming breath, she opens them again just as the coils tighten enough to turn the man blue. They hold him tightly until he stops struggling completely and then for at least two minute more. When the long tail finally unwinds from his neck, Cody lets loose his hands and catches him by the head to quickly twist his neck until a satisfying crunch can be heard.

After letting the man drop, she turns toward Devon and gives him a solemn nod. "I'll have to find out how he found us, unless you know?" Still somewhat facing him, the woman ducks down and begins rifling through the dead man's pockets. She's unabashedly looting the corpse, right in front of the smoking man.

"The way he was quaking in his boots he probably would have told you, if you'd ask," Devon says quietly, still steaming a bit as he moves closer, to bend down next to the body with a broken neck. Good equipment, there's some weapons worth keeping, tranq guns and various other things hidden in his body armor. He may not have utilized pockets as often as Justin had, but there's still quite a lot in them.

Including one photocopy of a picture.

A picture she'll recognize immediately as KeLyssa Gallagher.

"You didn't mention you could do that thing with your hair," he says, actually grinning just a little as he looks up at her. While they're kneeling over a corpse. Of all the places.

"Or he would have called down the cavalry," Cody grunts as she picks up the picture and examines it very carefully. "Gallagher… I knew she wasn't smart enough not to get caught." There's a low growl emitted from the woman's throat as she folds the picture up and tucks it into one of her own pockets. Then begins the methodical strip down.

All of the weapons and useful tools are stripped from the body before Cody actually begins to take off his armor and dons it herself. It's a little bit big, but manageable, still good even if it is one of the older models. The goggles are pulled off and radio unclipped, they are immediately turned off and tucked away on her person. The rest that was stripped is placed back into the vest in a very orderly fashion, "This is all going to come in really handy. Hope you don't mind… I haven't had a chance to replenish since my supply suddenly got cut off. You mind hauling him? We're just headed across the street."

The comment about her hair is left for the moment, it's not a conversation for the street. At least in her opinion.

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