Cast: Isabel, Ali, Dia
Location: La Fuerza Warehouse, Florence, South Central
Time: Late evening on May 30, 2016
Synopsis: The Los Angeles Police Department raid La Fuerza's headquarters.
Warehouse - Florence - South Central
The interior of the warehouse is huge. High overhead rusted steel beams stretch across the roof. Once they might have provided home for city birds to roost, but now the only signs of former life are abandoned nests. The floor is concrete; stained with oil and other, unidentifiable, markings. At night, the light is weak. The overhead lights are huge, circular orange things that barely throw enough light to reach the floor between the fifteen foot rows that hold box upon box of unlabeled inventory. There is a small, obviously makeshift seating area in the middle of the warehouse, off to one side, and a metal walkway overhead leads to an office of some kind.
This room has +views and places.
Contents:
Isabel
Ali
Obvious exits:
Office (NE) exit (SW)
Dia locks the exit (SW).
There have been problems- there are *always* problems, but lately there are tons and tons upon them. Word has made its way through Florence: the cops are out, they're looking, busting people and daring to venture further into the hood then they ever have before. The result of all of this is tonight - it's the sirens that scream through the night, the rubber that peels off their tires in a squeal, the half dozen police that come pouring out and immediately start shouting for everyone to get on the ground.
"GET ON THE GROUND!" The shout rings, echos.
"GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!"
Not expecting the police raid, Dia Reina Chavez has been putting the early part of her evening to use by playing on the Xbox 360. A racing game of sorts has occupied the Brujah's attention for the past hour. Seated square in the center of the couch in front of the giant television, the girl perks her ears when she hears the shouting. However - no stranger to encounters with police - Dia throws the controller forward onto the ground, the controller skidding across the floor and coming to a stop when it runs into the base of the television. Flubbering her lips in disgust, the girl rises from her seated position and turns slightly to ensure it really is the cops coming through the door and not some practical joke or Trojan Horse. Seeing the genuine uniforms, the girl sighs softly to herself as she lowers herself carefully to the ground in front of the couch and places her hands neatly on the back of her head.
Ali had been trying to do much the same - feet up, a wireless controller in her hands that will never catch up to the speed the Brujah's reflexes work at, and a smirk on her face. Until she hears the shouts. Her eyes flash toward the door as the first of the men outside take off, open fire or lower themselves to the ground. There's a brief exchange of gunfire. A wince shows on Ali's face as she presses her back teeth together, then stands and makes a mortal-speed sprint for the staircase, vaulting Dia's couch in the process.
"Just in case the 'spics don't understand.." A lanky, caucasian officer in his dark blue, freshly pressed uniform says to his large K-9 partner before yelling out, "Ahora consiga abajo!" The German Shepherd isn't leashed as he stands by the side of his Master who strides forward towards some punk-ass, blue-wearing fifteen year old boy. His younger friend is already on his knees, but looks puzzled at the demands. This one Juan Morales swivels to glance at the dog, then the cop moving towards him. He argues, "Man, we didn't do nothin'. It's still early!" The boy starts to put up his hands in a submissive gesture once the bullets start to fly way too close by. As swift as any LAPD cop can be, a gun is out of the holster and directed right at the boy's face. "Down, comprende? Fuckin' illegal. Hands where I can see'm."
There's a quick knocking at the door, with Isabel's voice coming from the other side of the metal. "Hey! Is anyone home? They're fuckin' all over the place. Santiago? Dia?" The Nosferatu is outside, remaining as non-existant as she can be as she watches the events unfold outside.
The poor Nosferatu should've stayed invisible. Her words are issued, then a thick, meaty hand wraps around her wrist and starts to pull it behind her back and the Nossie, herself, away from the door. A huge steel boom is driven into the door and it blows open, slamming against the wall, as the police pour in with their firearms drawn. "ON THE GROUND." One shouts at Dia, though she's already turned. "I'll shoot you, bitch. Go ahead. Give me a fucking reason."
Dia looks up from her position on the ground as she sees Ali leap over her like a track and field star. She watches the woman make a breach for the upstairs office, unsure if Ali is trying to make a break for it or to simply "flush" some evidence. Whatever the case, the young woman remains on the ground and her face is soon painted with a frown of disdain when she hears the police officer yell at her. "I'm already on the ground, cabron…" she grumbles under her breath.
The officer with the well-behaved beast of a shepherd has a vest strapped onto him, as does the dog for a situation that was going to call for violent means to an end of these Florencia thugs. After Morales is secured on the ground, with another officer rushing up to frisk him and kick'm in the ribs for a rebellious and nervous squirm, the K-9 unit moves off to the side and follows in the cluster of police. The shepherd starts to growl right away, baring his teeth at the staircase and Ali's disappearing form. Officer Benjamin cannot verbally control the animal anymore as it pushes all trained control away and starts to shoot up the stairs like a storm of white teeth and fur.
"SHIT." Ali's words ring true. Her long legs are two strides from the door when she skids to a stop, foiled by the fact she has a habit of locking things behind her. In immortal situations — she'd just flatten it, but doing it here, now, would be an amazingly bad idea. Who knows, maybe she has time.
Isabel, in whatever form she's wearing, is shoved flat against the wall of the warehouse as a gun barrel presses against the curve of her neck. "Ah, what's this?" the officer snorts. "Carrying a concealed weapon?" He lifts the baton, then tosses it off to the side. "That's one felony. Let's see how many more we can rack up."
Dia has the pleasure of watching this if she can manage it; the cop grabs the hinge of her elbow and drags her too her feet as the cuffs come out. "Aren't you that girl who used to work at the diner? A damn shame." He starts to pat her down.
Isabel's eyes grow wide in surprise as her wrist is grabbed. "Son of …fff…" And that's all she manages to say as that damn gun is pressed against her neck. The girl's loaded with weapons, and weird-ass ones at that. For some reason, she doesn't think the cops will buy that she does gardening with the axes under her coat. As her face is pressed against the cold warehouse wall, along with the rest of her body, she actually concentrates and tries to disappear to leave a memory mottled.
The K-9 unit focuses in on Santiago, not looking so innocent up there. The officer starts to run for the stairs so he can stand right there at the bottom with his gun aimed up at Santiago as the shepherd jumps from one step to lunge at the Brujah's throat with a wet, throaty snarl of a hell-hound.
Grunting as she's hoisted up off the ground by her arm, Dia hisses at the discomfort as she looks towards her left elbow. "Easy, easy…" she says in complaint as she takes a sturdy, wide stance in front of the police officer. "I'll just go ahead and tell you there's a knife in my back pocket… the right one… phone's in the left." she adds as her eyes drift across the chaos the police have caused. When her ears hear the dog snarling, Dia flicks her eyes towards Ali's perdiciment. Dia's body leans forward as a nervous look washes over her face, but she somehow refrains from leaving the police officer's search.
"Tsk, tsk." The cops breath is warm against Dia's ear. He walks her over to the wall none too easily and shoves his hand in back pockets, removes the knife and pockets it, then moves on to remove her phone. Front pockets come next- money is taken out, coins, whatever. "You are, aren't you. I remember when your mother got killed. Shame, that. You think you're doing her memory any good here?" He asks this- his last words coming as the dog makes its lunge toward Ali. The tall Colombian turns from the door and snarls right back at it, fangs and all if anyone is watching that closely, and brings her fist up and into the dog's face. That's all it takes. A single blow to its head and it whimpers, skull snapping backward before it collapses to the ground. As for the fangs? What fangs. She shoots a look down toward the cops, then it's back to opening the office door. Where the hell does she think she's going?
"I see we've found some drugs!" Officer Benjamin announces with a vicious glint in his eyes as he keeps his gun level down the center of the stairs. "Down on the ground!" As if he needs to say such a thing when the dog is working on taking Santiago down like a sack of meaty potatoes. Instead, the 'poor' Officer watches his partner go down and starts to unload his gun at Ali, "Officer down!" There's an attention getter, and a second cop starts to shoot up at Santiago as well.
Perhaps the officer that has his gun to Isabel's neck is distracted for a moment as two cops open fire in the warehouse, but his fleeting memory starts to confuse him for a moment as his captured Nosferatu disappears, and yanks her arm back so it's no longer being held onto by this meaty, moist grip of the officer. She pulls herself away, off to the side to get her body off of the metal of the warehouse wall. Then, she appears again as he wonders why he's holding a gun in a strange position at the air. "What the hell?!" He exclaims as Isabel thrusts her hand at the cop's head to slam it into the wall. His gun starts to fire as he has a trigger's second to panic.
Dia doesn't seem phased by the search or impending arrest until the officer begins to comment on her mother - so much so that she doesn't seem to notice Ali "taking care of" the dog. With her eyes rolled to the right sides of her sockets, she tries to look at the officer while being thrust against the wall. She furrows her brow as she tries to figure out if she knows who the man is by the tone of his voice. However, her daze is snapped when she hears the gunfire and catches a glimpse of the men shooting in Ali's direction. "Pity you didn't know her… She loved football…" she grunts out as she lifts up her right foot, bends her knee and then attempts to thrust her heel into the man's groin - attempting to take full use of the distraction.
The policeman behind Dia had (unwisely) given the girl a bit of lead as he turned to look at the scuffle behind him. Perhaps he thought she was the 'safe' one. Regardless of the reason, Dia's foot crunches into his very sensitive man-parts, made more painful by the fact his cup is shattered by the Brujah's kick, and he curls standing before falling forward to his knees. His groans add to the increasing chaos.
Ali's gaze snaps backward as she hears the call of officer down. In the streets of Florence, it translates from 'cop to 'ganger' as RUN. Which is what she's doing. Screw the key. She mocks making it work and gives the lock a quick rabbit punch, snapping it, as the first of several bullets tear through her back. The tall Colombian falls forward into the office and out of sight.
"ST-!" What else can Isabel's poor officer say? Nothing. His face is crushed like a baked potato thrown against a wall, brains and tissue leak through the seams between Isabel's fingers, and his body drops to the ground.
Isabel makes this noise of surprise as the officer's head breaks like a ripe melon. "Oh…/fuck/." An officer who's been holding out his gun, waiting to get a shot at Santiago, hears the shot echo from just outside the doorway. A pair of officers who have been handcuffing any random Latino they could find even look up for a moment. The Nosferatu quickly turns around as if to show that the blue shirt she wears, is officer-blue. She taps on her shirt towards an LAPD shield. "Captain Romero-Gordon. /Undercover/. Who's fucking up this operation? I want you all /out/ of here." Her face is now a bland color of brown, make-up gone and hair a touch shorter with less-curl. If anyone buys it is anyone's guess.
The two officers at the bottom of the stairs rush up, guns out. One falls behind as he reloads a new clip and the other actually shoots into the darkness first, just in case someone's standing there, "This is the LAPD. Hands where I can see'm!" He tries not to fall over the thick mass of German Shepherd as he makes his way up.
Feeling the officer behind her drop like a sack of bricks, Dia turns about to see the man riving on the floor in pain. Squatting down quickly, she takes the knife and phone out of his hands. She says in a patronizing, squeakish voice, "Thank you for getting those out for me… I'll just take those off your hands…" Replacing the phone in her pocket, but keeping her knife out, the girl charges towards the stairs - following Ali's retreat. If the officers at the top of the stairs now don't pay attention, the conviction with which the tiny Brujah is charging after her amante might send one or both of them over the railing like a linebacker splitting an offensive line.
The shots ring into the dark office. It's exceedingly dark, really, though starlight shines in from a trap door in the ceiling. The first round clips Ali's shoulder and she scrambles to hold onto the ladder as the second hits. It is finally too much and she falls off, lifting her hands as she lands on the floor. "You don't want to hurt me.", she says to the first officer. "There was a dead girl here. You killed her. You recognized her as a known prostitute. You already called for the morgue bus. Radio your captain and tell him that."
"You just blew the operation. -He- was the snitch for MS-13. Not Florencia-13. Did you /forget/ which way East LA is?" The Isabel-officer says, accent thick with Spanish as she gestures towards one of the cops who just yanked a fifteen year old cholo up rather harshly, twisting his arm about. The Nosferatu continues to huff and puff at the present officers, asking them who gave them the wrong directions and if they're new to LA - the Latina tries to fast-talk them as she attempts to get an Academy Award for her acting.
Officer Benjamin was the first one up the stairs, and nods sternly at Ali and clicks on the talkie that's to the side of his cheek. "Captain, this is Officer Benjamin. Ruby Starr is a 10-0." And he continues to do as Santiago has asked him to do. The second cop is knocked over to the side as Dia charges up the stairs. His gun clangs against the railing as he nearly falls over.
Dia ducks beneath the arms of the police officer who cornered Ali in the office and literally slides to her amante's aid like a baserunner sliding into home. "You okay? Where did you get hit?" Dia ask frantically as she begins to check the Colombian over for wounds - paying little attention to how the other officers might be reacting to the situation.
"Blew the operation? What the fuck are you talking about?" a sergeant says, stepping out from the cluster of police officers with their detainees. The sergeant appears to have seen his fair share of days in the force - his rough, leathery face covered with three day old grizzle and a thick, brown mustache. His voice is husky and so is his body. His eyes are fixed on Isabel as he speaks. "This is where the magistrate signed the warrant for - this is where we're supposed to be. And speaking of which, what division are you from anyways?"
Where *didn't* Ali get hit is the better question. She has two exit wounds in the middle of her chest - either easily fatal - and a third high on her shoulder, the fourth low in her gut. At least half the force has been taking extra time at the range, it seems. She looks tired as she stares at Dia; her brows softening before she snaps back into herself. The Jedi have nothing on this girl. She looks back at the policeman. "Write up your notes now; the deceased is one Rosa Jarez of Florence. She lived at 15 Montana Avenue with her boyfriend, a no good meth junkie. She was 19 years old. You killed her as she ran away. Shot her, like a dog." Heat finds its way into the Brujah's voice. She wraps her arm around Dia's shoulders, maintaining eye contact with the cop. "Tell your captain everything in the office looks fine to you, but you're going to stay and check it out, get some ID on the victim."
"Vice, with the South Bureau. You're on my fuckin' toes, here. You're /killin'/ me. 'Where' exactly are you supposed to be? Just..'here', looking for…kids skipping school? I have a ~friend~ in the civil rights division, so I'd appreciate it if you talked fast and pulled your pugs outta here." Whatever a pug is, but it certainly doesn't sound like a good thing to be. Isabel shifts her weight and puts her hand on her hip as she looks to the grizzled Sgt. "I'm sure this is a typical case of right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing. You're busting my contacts, and maybe someone on the force in plainclothes. It's going to be a lot of paperwork, and maybe time behind a desk which neither your nor I want. Let's get this settled back at the farm, instead of out here…Pull your people out before it's a day's worth of writing everything in triplicate for each person you cuff."
Officer Benjamin is all-too pleased to do as Santiago says, finding her to be a peer. He never smiles, but takes this all very seriously. Later on, during some debriefing, he'll conclude that Santiago is one of those 'undercover' cops if he ever thinks of her shadowy, starlit self again. He takes out his pad and flips it open and clicks his ballpoint to write down the girl's name and address. Once it's all written down in his chicken scratch, he gets back on the talkie and says without fail, "Captain, everything is fine up here. I'm going to give the place a once-over and get some ID on the victim."
The sergeant raises his right hand, his pointer finger extended towards Isabel. The man starts to lean forward, his face turning red with rage. He looks as if he's about to say something, his mouth opening slightly and little grunt escaping - but he says nothing in response. Isabel has apparently made him second guess himself - and that's all La Fuerza needed. "Let'em go… /For Now/…" the sergeant says in a defeated and angered tone. His eyes now buring a whole into Isabel, he says in a gruff, hushed tone, "We're gonna check this out with the magistrate and central… You'd better be a hundred and ten f*ckin' percent on this one, or I'm gonna bust up more than your contacts - ya hear me?" Without so much as waiting for a reply, the sergeant lets out a huff, turns about and marches towards the exit door - the rest of the polcie officers just standing around in an ignorant haze.
Meanwhile, Dia exchanges a glance between Ali and the police officer in the room with her - watching how Ali seemingly makes the officer's mind up for him. She can't help but grin, having scene a display of such wonder once before. Dia leans over to her amante as she sees the man starting to take notes and whispers, "That's somethin' you'll have to teach me one of these days soon… Wanna stand up?"
"Yea, let's." Ali leans on her childe and only sighs at the suggestion she teach her Jedi mind trick. There might be an explanation coming, but it won't be now. "You don't find anything in the office and the girl's ID confirmed her identity. It's going to be a public relations mess. The police will need to stay out of Florence or the ACLU will get involved." Ali nods at the officer to add credence, then sighs. "Fucking ACLU."
"-Fuck-." Officer Benjamin says, being way too white to be in a 'hood like this killing a Latina prostitute. He shakes his head with anger and spits out at the other officer who nearly fell over the railing, "Perry, get back to the car." The man was fussing with his gun that fell, popping the clip in and out of it. "Don't have to say /that/ twice." He says, and heads out of the warehouse as though the place just spooks him. Benjamin gets back on his radio and says, "Captain, it's clear. We have what we need." He pauses, allowing static to crackle for a moment, "This is going to be a /nightmare/." Then, the crackle responds, and the Captain starts to bark at him, saying something along the lines of "Damn straight this is going to be a nightmare. In my office in two hours."
Now outside, Isabel has a face of stone set on her plain face as she nods seriously to the Sergeant. "I'll see you back in central at O-600." Which would logically be when he's off shift, being it first thing in the morning. She walks away from him now, and helps yank one of the cholos out of the nearest police car, gesturing towards the second one in the car who is sitting there and bleeding from his ear and elbow. "Now…you heard what the man said. Out. Now."
Dia helps Ali to her feet, trying to serve more as a crutch for the Colombian rather than a lifting tool - especially considering their size and strength differences. "There we go… Nice and easy…" the little Latina says as she adjusts her body to Ali's movements. "Don't need you makin' anything worse…" the girl adds with a faint smile.
The police officers that were once standing in confusion throughout the warehouse, lower their weapons to their sides and march out of the building - some a little frustrated with their night being wasted as it was while others are just glad the whole operation is over with. One by one, the members of La Fuerza and those few civilians that were just unfortunate enough to be in the warehouse at the time, begin to gather on the couches - out of harms way and definitely not fearing jail time tonight. An overwhelming sense of relief seems to flow throughout the warehouse as things die down just as quickly as they started.
"As long as no one starts shooting again, no problemo." Still, Ali leans. The arm she has draped around Dia's shoulders doesn't move too much. Nothing below her shoulder has moved at all and her once blue shirt is a blue and red-brown now, like something out of a horror movie. "Awful intricate plan t'avoid gettin' your ass kicked at Burnout again."
Once the neighborhood locals are released and uncuffed, and the cops sent on their merry way to write reports or go the hell home, Isabel takes her coat and throws it over the dead cop as though that can hide…a dead cop. She shifts out of the badged shirt, and any alteration she made to her mask to appear as an officer. Poking her head back into the warehouse, she trots upstairs, over the dead canine-officer and says, "Jefe, mind if I borrow Lil' Cid? I got'm uncuffed, and I need a hand with somethin'. Ok?" She gives Dia and Ali a winning smile, totally unworried and casual. Someone has to deal with the dead body, and she doesn't know where the roll of plastic is.
"Yeah, yeah…" Dia says with a bit of a snort as she guides Ali in whatever direction the woman decides to go. "If you're impressed with that, just wait till you see what I got in store for you at bed time…" The young girl gives her amante a playful bump of the hip, but is careful not to send the Colombian toppling over. "Let's get you cleaned up, alright?" she asks rhetorically.
"G'won." Ali waves her working arm toward Isabel and exhales, her weight considerably on her childe. At least they're Brujah. They can carry each others home after wars. She turns to Dia. "I'm waitin' - make sure it's a threesome, I need to fucking eat." And clean up. She makes for the exit out and the relative safety of a car and the spare change of clothes she has within. Be prepared. Ali's no boyscout, but she got that motto at least.
The Nosferatu is waved off, and she actually winks towards Dia before she turns about and heads down the stairs. She yanks up the dead dog like an overstuffed purse as she heads on down. "Hey, Cid…" Isabel says with a wave of her free hand before she claps the dead dog with both arms. "I need some help, si?" And she goes on her merry way, cleaning up the dead for burial.
