That Smell

ian_icon.png tilly_icon.png

Where: Henderson

When: October 27, 2012; Evening

What: Bringing in a Telekinetic is always so much fun.

There's the crackle over the radio, an earpiece in Ian's ear. Through the houses and small apartment buildings in this section of Henderson, late at night, there's been a game of tag happening. «I think he went left» Tilly's voice through to Ians ear drums. «Looping left, keep an eye out. Bastards a Teek» Telekinesis. Hard one, in Tilly estimation, to deal with.

«Copy that,» Ian murmurs, half to himself though his voice presents clearly over the radio. His gaze seems to dart every which way, taking in his surroundings as much as pick out the path he's following all while looking for sign of someone else gone on ahead of him. «I'm coming around right.» He keeps a steady pace, half crouched and slow, eyes narrowed against the darkness to preserve what night vision he can.

There, off to the side, darting out of an alley/ Street lights show the college aged student, likely
only a yeqar or so younger than Ian, moving quick as he can. Jeans, hoodie pulled up, he's looking left and right and then dashing for the next alley. If ever it was a suspect, that was likely it.

Ian moves to intercept at soon as the guy makes for the next alley. «Think I found him.» He looks to either side as well while crossing, and picks up his pace. «My position, across the street. He's ducking down the alley.» Vague directions are given, enough that the more senior agent can locate him.

«Couple streets over, keep track of him, if you get the chance, take him.» Most bags and tags are more mundane than this. Most, are easy to drug and not sticking their nose in a computer lab all day and drinking from only bottled water. Makes it a lot harder.

But Ian may have been tagged because there's a strange sound, and then, there's a garbage can making a beeline through the air at him at velocity and angles not naturally found in nature.

The sound affords enough warning to turn Ian toward the sound, a «Shit,» following, hissed over the radio at the sight that greets him. In the same motion he brings an arm up to protect his head from the oncoming trash can and begins to sink into a crouch again. The other arm goes for the tranquilizer gun, tucked away in a holster against his lower back.

Just a smaller plastic thing, it's enough to almost knock ian off his feet, but gives the guy enough distraction to start making away from him, fast as he can. «No getting dead kid» Comes over the radio, Tilly's voice broken by the need for oxygen to run.

Impact causes a stumbling step and Ian's other shoulder grazes a wall. As he settles his balance, the tranq gun is drawn free. «Not tonight,» he says, the smirk that curls the corners of his lips is even implied in his tone. He doesn't waste more than a couple of seconds for collecting himself and speaking, and sets up a first shot from the dart gun. As soon as the trigger's been squeezed he sets off running himself in pursuit of the guy.

The dart, will of course, arrive long before Ian does, but it hit the guy and within a few steps there's the telltale slowing and eventually down he goes, no Telekinesis going to be an issue now. Which will make Tilly a happy woman as she's coming around the corner from where he has emerged. "Aww man" Which is about the extent of the whining that he'll get. Clearly, someone wanted to be the trigger happy agent. «Mark is down, you can move in transport to our location» rattling off the cross street. There's a glance to Ian, looking him over. "He give you trouble?"

There's no attempt made to catch the guy as he slumps and sags onto the ground. Ian only slows when he realizes his dart found home and eventually saunters up beside the telekinetic's prone body. The toe of a shoe gets pushed against the guy's ribs, as if to assure the younger agent of the target's state. "Not much," he replies with a glance up to Tilly. "He threw a garbage can at me."

"Oh, that's that smell" Tilly smiles. "Coffee after this, maybe some dessert, I know this great place, and I'm starving" If there's one thing Ian has learned, is that Tilly is always starving. When she isn't, it's because she's eating. Down the road, there's the commonplace black SUV, creeping it's way toward them.

Ian raises the arm he'd defended against the plastic bin with and gives it a sniff. "Yeah. That smell does little to tarnish the smell of my awesomeness, though," he points out. The tranquilizer gun is tucked away in afterthought, and he tilts a look toward the oncoming vehicle. "If there's coffee, there better be dessert. You buying this time?"

"Yeah, guess I can, since you're the one that smells like trash. That jacket is going in the back though" She too, has her guns holstered, keeping an eye out for any peepers, but there are none. Lucking out this evening. As the black SUV comes to a stop, a handful of people coming out, Tilly looks satisfied. "You're driving though"

"Damn right I'm driving," Ian says with a grin. He strips out of his jacket while the suits come out to handle the body. "So where is this place," he asks while watching the collection with vague interest. "Not somewhere lame in the 7-11, is it?" His grin takes on a teasing edge when he looks toward the more senior agent again, though he doesn't wait around for the answer. He follows his own head turn to turn himself around and start for the back of the vehicle to drop off his jacket so he can take the wheel.


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