[Open/Dorian] The Missing Portrait

[LUCY BISHOP]

Lucy was a little surprised by the name the man gave. Her Grandfather’s study contained a copy of nearly every book on the planet, and Lucy had read quite a few of them, including The Picture of Dorian Gray by one Oscar Wilde. She quirked an eyebrow,
“Dorian Gray?” And then she couldn’t help but smirk at the accusation that none would be leaving. She’d like to see him try. There were very few things that could contain her, and she very much doubted Mr. Gray, supernatural entity or no, would be the one to do it. If Lucy wanted to leave, she would damn well leave. However, this odd situation had just become much, MUCH more interesting and Lucy had no intention of leaving at the moment.
“Until you return my key.”

Scheiße
It would figure that her annoying ability of attracting keys would rear its ugly head right at this inopportune moment. His key must have made the jump when she summoned its duplicate to the Keyring. Now where had the damn thing gone? She mentally went over her person. Couldn’t be in her hair, trench was clear, it only contained her falcata hilts, an easy to carry, unsuspicious weapon. The blade only appeared when summoned. Skirt was clear, and she doubted the key was in her pumps, which left the unfortunate location of her blouse and bra. Ugh. She couldn’t help that keys loved her! The blouse itself contained no pockets, which meant that the key was in her bra- lovely.

“No one has been able to claim the item that I now sense in your possession. I will ask you once nicely. Please return it.”

Lucy eyed his open palm. Well this was going to be an awkward return. She now felt the key dangling from her bra, between her breasts, the cold metal warming from her skin. Thank goodness for front clasps. She reached up and unclasped the bra with one hand, the key falling down her blouse to her second open hand, and reclasping the bra.
“I apologize, this was not actually my intention. I don’t need to steal your key.” And she didn’t, the duplicate could be called to the Keyring at any time, and now that she saw the intense reaction the key held, she was even more curious to find out what lay on the other side.

She dropped the key into his expectant hand with the quirk of her brow. This Mr. Gray may want to know what they all were, but she certainly wasn’t going to be handing out that information willy-nilly. Plus, she would not be threatened, and the way his hand was resting on the cane mirrored the way her left hand now rested on one of the hilts in her pockets; ready to defend.
“My name is Lucy Bishop, as to what I am, I don’t think is currently any of your business.”
And it certainly would not be unless he hired her services.

[SNOW MOLDOVAN]

Snow had admired the man for a moment from the bathroom, as he was reclined, seemingly relaxed, in his own environment. Pale blue eyes desperately hoping he was wrong, he was regretting leaving the Troll Market. When he stepped out of the bathroom from cleaning himself up, he became shaken by the mans sudden shift in attitude. While composed his aura had become one of dark warning. Brooding, Snow's eyes fell on Hetio as Dorian brought her into the room, he wasn't violent but there was something going on.

The mans hand was outstretched, and his name consumed Snow. Gray. So that was it. Snow stared, uncertain of if the man was fact or fiction, though his stature clearly stated that was what the man believed. “Excuse me... Uh, Mr. Gray, but you're a fictional art...” Snow interjected confused. Hetio edged closer, and Snow stepped in front of her protectively. Should the man turn hostile, the half elf was prepared to defend her, even to the end. Though he hardy bargained that being part drunk would help him in his quest for death.

Hetio requested that the thief return whatever was taken. Judging by the mans imposing presence, he believed this Lucy had taken whatever was missing. Lucy shared Hetio's reaction both speaking the name, “Dorian Gray” after him. The gentleman stated they would not be permitted to leave until the key was returned. “What key?” Snow asked looking around.

“No one has been able to claim the item that I now sense in your possession. I will ask you once nicely. Please return it.”

Snow watched Lucy's reaction, she looked to be in thought, then her eyes fell on Mr. Gray's palm. Dear God, she has it! Crossed his mind as the attractive woman unclasped her bra beneath her blouse reacquiring the key. He smirked unabashed, not bothering to hide his amusement. He watched the girl chuckling as she reclasped her bra and shook his head. “Tsk. Shame, shame, didn't her mother tell her it was a crime to steal?” Snow whispered to Hetio, curious about her, yet concerned. What drove her to steal?

“I apologize, this was not actually my intention. I don’t need to steal your key.”
“My name is Lucy Bishop, as to what I am, I don’t think is currently any of your business.”

Snow feeling relieved as the key fell into Dorian's hand, stared at the girl, then realized his question was also directed at him. “I'm sorry, sir. With all due respect, I am not at liberty to divulge that information without first speaking to my superiors.” Snow stated surely. “May we be on our way?”

[DORIAN GRAY]

Dorian paid little attention to the pleas of the blonde girl in his company, as his hand remained steady and his eyes locked upon the brunette. Both of their reactions had been as anticipated, both of them had heard of him, the boy on the other hand had made Dorian chuckle cruelly. "All myth stems from truth, boy. Surely you do not need me to tell you this. You hardly seem ... Normal yourself." The dim light of the living room enforced the threatening sensation to the living quarters in which they stood. The man needn't turn around to sense the younger woman moving closer to the drunken man for some comforts sake.

Smirk broadening into a cooperative smile, Dorian realized the girl did in fact have his key. What was she? Arching a brow he watched the woman in amusement as she stood in thought. Hand still outstretched, Dorian shamelessly ran his eyes over her wondering where her hiding place of choice was. When her hands traveled to her bosom, Dorian couldn't stifle his laugh that passed through his lips.

“I apologize, this was not actually my intention. I don’t need to steal your key.
My name is Lucy Bishop, as to what I am, I don’t think is currently any of your business."

Yielding to the young woman he bowed his head, and replaced the key around his neck. “Very well, Miss Bishop, your name will suffice. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you wish to know... Thank you all, for your cooperation.” Said an enthused and sarcastic Dorian Gray, pouring himself a small shot of gin and gulping it down with ease. Placing his glass upon the table, he unlocked the door to his flat, freeing his guests. “Let us be off then.” Only after everyone had left did he recheck his possessions: Key, cane, gun, wallet, all in which were on him, and locked his door behind.

Stepping out to the elevator he waved at the girls who he had greeted earlier as they came around the corner while they waited. “Hello again.” Dorian said pleasantly.

”You're Mr. Gray?! Why didn't you tell us! We know where your picture is!”

Dorian's ears perked immediately. “Where?” He asked grabbing the girl by the shoulder.

”They're shipping it to Ireland in the morning! We asked the mover when he came back!” She said happily. ”Bald guy, really polite.”

Forgetting the company of the others, Dorian got on the now open elevator and pressed 1 reaching again for his empty cigarette case. They could not ship that portrait. Reaching base floor, Dorian sped toward the main doors, he had to make it to his portrait before they sent it so far away. The world could wait.

[WARREN SORROW]

If one sat outside the apartment building, you could see the right most window, on the second floor slowly but surely open. The sounds of John Lee Hooker spilling out, the volume JUST enough for people outside to hear faintly. Then, a straw haired, caucasian head popped out of the darkness that was residing in the room. Then came shoulders and finally a right arm as he leaned out, a long, hand rolled cigarette in between his right middle and ring fingers. The other hand rummaged around in the darkness a moment before coming out as well, a brass lighter in his grip. The man flicked the lighter open and lit the cigarette, which strangely enough produced purple smoke. Even the burning herbs in the cigarette smouldered purple. He took a deep drag before breathing it out, coming out in the form of a few rings. Just for effect, he shot out a jet of smoke through the middle, the man was a show off by nature. Then he scanned the street, looking up and down it. The night was a bit chilly, which was just fine. Then his brow furrowed as he spotted a few people. A woman and man. He knew the woman. Who was the bloke though?

"Hey! Mila!" Warren half whispered down to the woman, his cigarette hanging between his lips and bouncing each time he spoke. "What in the name of Mrs. Hopkins are you doin' here?!" Again, a half whisper. He figured if SHE was there, there was fighting to be done. Which, in all rights, should've meant he getting his pale little butt outta there, in a flash. But, of course, no, he didn't. He was curious. So Warren slipped back into the darkness of the room, scouring the floor for his pants, roughly pulled them on, then burst out of the door, his shirt and vest draped over his shoulder, his pants half zipped up and un buttoned. He had his socks stuffed into his back pockets, his shoes literally walking after him and his hat gliding just above them. "HEY! Where do you think you're goin?!" He hadn't even thought of the woman lying in the bed back in the apartment he was leaving. "You get your ass back here and do that to me again!" She called. She was a short red head, about 4'9, just curvy enough to make most men drool, and pissed that her one night stand was being interrupted. "Sorry mon chaton, I have business to attend to." and subsequently ran down the hall to the stair-well.

He scurried down the stairs, not waiting for the elevator, and to the first floor, almost bumping into a raven haired young man, couldn't have been over twenty. "Sorry friend, almost clipped ya there." he apologized as his hat landed, and tipped it to the man, before he did a little hop, and landed in his shoes, and hurriedly exited the building, heading straight for the pair on the street. "What are ya'll doin here?? Are you stalkin' me Mila?" He insinuated with his characterisitic evil smile. "I knew you'd come around, all you had to do was say so!" he said gently, his smile never leaving.

[ELEEN CREST]

She was unsure how to react to the instance before her, as she peered at Dorian from snows arm a moment. She was getting mighty tired now, her energy must be dwindling fast. She sighed softly now where no one could hear accept maybe snow because he was so close. Eleen would have to come out once this body had time to rest because Hetio was worn paper thin right now. As people answered Mr. Gray and his question, she never spoke her name nor did she say anything about herself, she had learned most did not believe her when she admitted her bipolarism of souls. So even though she would freely say it almost any time, today was not the day to expose herself.

It was funny, Hetio acted all so tough when she was full of energy but once her body was worn she seemed a little more sheepish. Once the drama had settled she followed the young Dorian Gray out of his Apartment not bothering to see if snow was going to follow. She stopped as suddenly Dorian was speaking to girls, a painting, and something about Ireland and off Dorian went. Hetio watched in confusion as she shook her head, it was hard for her to figure what was going on . She turned to snow, where ever he had gotten to “what should we do now?” she asked him.

[CARL GREENE]

"Well this is swimming", said Carl, shrugging slightly in his coat. "Waiting, waiting and more waiting."

Invite your dear colleague for a coffee. I don't know about you, but I want to get to know her charming self better.

No, work comes first.

Killjoy.

Satisfied by Callaxiam's somewhat docile temperament as of late, Carl went back to watching the building. Even though he did not like Call's lust for women, he had to admit that Ludmila was quite a looker. The blonde woman had a kind of magnetic charm to her that made it hard for any onlookers to look away. However, temperance was a virtue to Carl, and he kept most of his attention on the building. However, the quiet was broken when someone hissed and whispered down at them from one of the building's windows.

"Who's that man?", asked Carl. Ludmila did not seem very pleased by the man's sudden apparition.

"-Oh, it's Warren", said Ludmila. "Another Bureau agent."

"-Ah, I see", said Carl. "Annoying?"

"-Yes, very annoying. At least when you're a woman. He just never puts a sock in it."

"-Aha, I see."

She's right.

[LUDMILA ILYUKHIN]

Ludmila's expression remained severe as Warren left the building she and Carl had been watching and came towards them. Almost as soon as Warren reached them, he completely ignored Carl and headed straight for her, like a hungry shark. He even smiled like one.

"Warren, I swear one of these days I'll shoot you in the kneecap if you continue speaking to me like this."

"-Such pleasant interaction", remarked Carl, which earned him a scathing look from Ludmila. Warren's behaviour was truly grating to Ludmila, and whenever he opened his mouth she felt like closing it with a well aimed punch to the face.

"-So, Warren, what are you doing here? Let me guess...it's a woman? I thought so. And I'm not surprised either. I hope you didn't try to embezzle her with your monstrous French."

"-Anyway, back to business", interjected Carl, much to Ludmila's relief. At least he knew how to keep to business instead of wandering off into annoying, vulgar trivia. "Warren is it? A strange individual accompanied by several abhumans and a non-human entered the building you just came out of. The man in question is youngish with black hair. Did you see him?"

[LUCY BISHOP]

“ You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you wish to know... Thank you all, for your cooperation.”
Poor fool didn’t know the half of it. It might blow his mind to know that every person that was currently standing in the room was not quite human. She quirked an eyebrow at his sudden gin shot and then fleeing of the apartment. Apparently he’d locked them in. This man was getting weirder by the second, and interesting. Clear the rest of her night, she was now following one Mr. Dorian Gray. There was a reason this fictional story character was in such a rush, and Lucy had a hunch about what it could be.
She nonchalantly kept pace with Mr. Gray and the as of yet unknown other two; drunky and the quiet girl. With her hands in the pockets of her trench and a bored expression on her face, she watched with interest as the girls in the elevator related news about Mr. Gray’s ‘picture.’

So her hunch was correct. Something had happened to the portrait of Dorian Gray. No wonder the man, if he could even still be considered one, was essentially jumping out of his skin to leave. If the key to her survival was in unknown hands she'd be busting down doors to find it.

Ireland?
Who in Ireland would want the portrait? Unless they were using it as leverage for something else Dorian held in his possession, or using it as leverage to get Dorian to do something. The possibilities were endless.
A polite, bald guy?
Goodness this story was becoming more and more weird.

While following Mr.Gray was definitely Lucy’s current mission, his race to the doors had her concerned. What if that terrible newspaper-reading agent whatever he was was still out there. She really didn’t want to have to deal with some BPRD bs. They might try to slap her in cuffs or take her in for questioning or whatever it was that lame government agents did and she would casually slip out of the cuffs and walk out through the nearest door. She could do without that sort of interaction. Giving a shrug of her shoulders, she followed him out the door. Worse comes to worse, she’ll skip back in, use the utility door over there on the left and make a clean getaway and never have to worry about Mr. Gray or his fictional/real-life anymore. Though that wouldn't be very fun, now would it?

[SNOW MOLDOVAN]

"All myth stems from truth, boy. Surely you do not need me to tell you this. You hardly seem ... Normal yourself."

Hands tightening to fists, Snow watched this Dorian timidly. Had he been so blatantly non human that a man who started off as human had recognized him as an anomaly? Saying nothing, Snow was chilled to the bone by the mans soft chuckle.

Furthermore, the prince would have to be informed. Snow cringed, dreading the day he came into contact with Prince Nuada of Silverlance bearing the message of 'humans know about us'. Duty bound he spoke quietly to Hetio. “Does the prince need to be informed, or is it possible to keep this our little secret?” He wondered shaken by the thought of punishment that Nuada would bestow upon him for leaving the Fae Court willingly. It had caused trouble, as the Fae Court said it would.

Unable to pull his eyes from the young looking man, he watched as the Dorian laughed again as his key was handed to him. Whether it was a laugh of relief or not, Snow could not be certain. Lucy, of course, was unwilling to surrender whatever information was hidden. Snow did not dare move, Dorian might turn ugly in short fumes. Yet surprisingly the next words were not hostile in nature.

“Very well, Miss Bishop, your name will suffice. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you wish to know... Thank you all, for your cooperation.”

An unrelaxed moment of silence passed as Dorian downed a glass of gin, judging from the appearance of the bottle this hadn't been the first glass he had taken in tonight. With a 'lets be off' Dorian locked the door behind them. What a strange man. Grabbing Hetio's hand, he led her in the direction of Dorian Gray as he was approached by what appeared to be a crazed fan base whom he had greeted.

Jaw dropping at the mention of a missing portrait, Snow suddenly understood the mans attitude a bit more. Leaning down to Hetio he whispered “What do you know of Dorian Gray?” He decided that it was likely her counterpart that read books, if either of them. “His portrait is his life, if it's destroyed, so is he. Why would someone want that portrait?” He whispered as the girl mentioned it was heading to Ireland.

Seemingly invisible to Mr. Gray, Snow got into the elevator, pulling Hetio in next to him protectively. “Mr. Gray, I hereby volunteer my services to you to help you get your painting back.” He said. Hetio asked what they should do. He nodded at her slowly, contemplating her safety as well. “He's going to need help. I think we should offer it to him.” He said plainly. “We're not normal either, as he said. We have no chance if we don't work as a team.”

Noticing Hetio swaying on her feet about to fall over asleep on the spot, Snow lifted her into his arms with ease. For a scrawny looking half elf, he had trained in the Fae Court, mostly in the art of healing. Though lifting her proved easy. He sincerely hoped there would be no confrontation at the door, but he knew better than to expect an easy evening with someone like Gray.

[DORIAN GRAY]

The elevator decended, too slowly for Mr. Gray's tastes. The elevator music droned on quietly in the background, an old familiar tune, Franz Paul Lachner Symphony No. 5 "Passionata" Op. 52 II. Andante Con Moto. Unable to relax as he usually would, there was only one subject ticking in the back of his mind, his portrait. The sounding bell, in which was usually taken for granted, alerted Dorian to his whereabouts: ground floor. In a mad-dash off the elevator, he lost his balance as he stumbled to avoid collision with another young man. Catching himself with his cane, his eyes moved to get a glance at his intruder.

"Sorry friend, almost clipped ya there."

Huffing in a quiet annoyance, Dorian waved his hand briefly standing up straight, readjusting his tie out of unbroken practice. “Begging your pardon.” Dorian spoke, a bald man catching his eye, a bald man carrying the burden of a large, wrapped, rectangular item. Large enough to be his portrait.

Etiquette long lost, he pursued the thief and shouted “STOP HIM!” alerting everyone in the area. Pointing forward with his cane, Gray sped to a sprint, eager to catch the embezzler. The man appeared horrified and confused by his bellow. Frightened, the man ran toward an escape route into the city. “STOP!” Dorian cried, propelled by his own adrenaline, bursting out the main doors and into the busy sidewalks of the city.

The city was lit by the neon glow of advertising boards at its late hour. Taxi's and traffic still heavy on the darkened streets. The tall towering structures lit in scattered patterns through the windows. The signs flashed, but never once did Dorian's eyes leave his prey. A group of tourists passed him taking pictures of the 'Eat Bar Drink' sign across the road. Mama Mia was on at the theater, and his target was making his way through the line.

“You're mine!” Dorian called, pushing a new path through the bystanders. The escapee was now making his way up a fire escape ladder. Jumping in speed, Dorian caught the ladder and climbed to the roof. “There's nowhere to go!” He yelled, pulling his gun out and pressing the barrel into the mans temple. “Give it up, and surrender that portrait!”

[THE NARRATOR]

RESULT: B.P.R.D. Intervention!
Note: Poll was taken on old board.

[/SIZE]

[ELEEN CREST]

She opened her mouth to answer, all she knew was this portrait and him were connected somehow but she had only skimmed, she just knew a small bit of what was going on. She was unsure if this man was dangerous or not, though she learned that if fiction became reality it was rarely a good thing. She was rushed in the Elevator, would people STOP shoving her! Next person whom did that to Hetio was going to be hit and hard.

It was not till Snow volunteered himself, and of course she had a feeling she was volunteered too, that she said something. “SNOW! Don’t be a damn hero!”she said to him, if it was rude she did not care. It was obvious she was not in a state right now to think clearly. So all she could really react to now was anger or Alarm. She wanted away with the very Handsome Dorian Gray for more then one reason. She was in such a twilight stage now that she was considering flirting… GROSS. Not only that she was finding a strange attraction to this figure, THIS was A BIG no no for Hetio, she did not dabble in love games if there was even one to be played.

Though now she found herself off her feet, it was like the feeling of not having slept in five days and hitting a bed. She was out within seconds, there was nothing that could of helped her the body and soul together was just to tired right now, and the amount of alcohol in her system had died out. So now she was an empty battery. No flip a coin, for once the body awoke who would be at the other end?

[LUDMILA ILYUKHIN]

Before Warren could answer, however, Ludmila caught sight of the man Carl had described. The man rushed out of the building, chasing after a bald man carrying a large rectangular object.

"He's bolting! Don't let him get away!", barked Ludmila, before bolting off after the man. Carl quickly followed. Ludmila and Carl were excellent runners, the first because she'd undergone intensive physical training, and the second because Callaxiam boosted his strength, speed and agility beyond normal human levels. The two chased the man through the neon lit streets, passing in front of a group of tourists taking pictures of a bar sign across the street. As Ludmila and Carl dashed past, one of the tourists accidentally took a picture of them, making for an oddly memorable holiday photograph As Ludmila and Carl reached a cinema with a queue in front of it, they saw the bald man and his pursuer pushed their way through the crowd.

"-What does he want from that bald guy?", asked Carl, panting slightly.

"-I have absolutely no idea, but the fact remains that he's chasing him."

The two agents shoved their way through the queue in order to keep up with the two men. After yet more chasing, the two men ended up in an alley, where the bald man clambered up a fire escape ladder (quite a feat with the burden he was carrying), with the suspicious stranger in hot pursuit. Carl was the first to reach the ladder, and he climbed upwards very quickly, followed by Ludmila. As they got to the roof, they saw the dark-haired man pull a gun on his bald victim and press the barrel against his temple.

"Shit, he's got a gun!", said Ludmila. With an expert hand movement she pulled her Stechkin out of its holster and aimed it straight at the dark stranger's back. Carl did the same, albeit more hesitantly.

"This is the police, drop the gun and step away from baldy!", shouted Ludmila, her aim never wavering.

[roseneghana]

Since standard procedure was to moniter the comms of the agents for various codewords on ops, the word backup had special meaning. Once the word was said, units were scrambled from a nearby staging area just in case they were needed. The codeword wasn't a call for action, mearly a call to have them ready, should the need arise in any manner of speaking.

Thus, Rose and a few other BPRD agents were in the BPRD helicopter that was disguised as a SWAT helicopter. The Agents were armed with anything from masterkey assault rifle/shotgun combos, to military grade combat rifles in various calibers and attachments. Rose's weapon of choise was a semi-auto rifle with laser site and a scope, both of which she was using. Her left arm had a sling attached to a glove and her upper arm, which she used to keep the barrol of the weapon in contact with her forearm as a rest.

As the helicopter came over the scene of the incident, Rose saw Ludmilla and her distinctive profile standing off against a well dressed male apparently holding a bald headed man hostage. Carefully, Rose knelt upon the floor of the helicopter, telling the pilot to keep the bird steady as she took aim.

With her forearm strap accross the top of the handguard and holding the padded underside against her forearm, she sighted in the building's top. A flick of the switch had the laser activated, and she aimed at the mans pistol and wrist, allowing the laser to be seen by the man before she commed the command center.

"Command, this is overwatch, suspect is armed and holding a hostage. Sidearm class, requesting orders. Range, three hundred yards, altitude 300 feet to ground level."

"Suspect is armed, copy that. Parameters understood. You have eyes on scene, if you must fire, shoot to wound, Overwatch."

"Understood command. Overwatch, keeping eyes on target."

As she kept watch, she looked up and to the left, keying her hud's hands free command sequence, then blinked to select the icon for coms. She looked over to another icon blinked to select the agent, then spoke without having to move her hands as she sighted in once more.

"Agent Ilyukhin, this is Rose. I've got overwatch. Over."

[jack]

"You're mine!"

Chuckling, Jack climbed the ladder a few paces ahead of Dorian. This night was all a game to him. His victim something other than the typical prostitute spicing up the evening. "Not tonight, Gray!" He called over his shoulder tauntingly, spotting the agents chasing after him. Laughing hysterically, Jack ran to the far side of the roof, still being pursued by Mr. Gray.

"Ah, look! You brought friends!" He squealed delightedly, "Oh and what fine taste you have, Gray! I should have known..." Dorian pointed a gun in his direction, making Jack laugh harder.

“Give it up, and surrender that portrait!”

"Oh! You mean this?" Jack asked, holding up the 'portrait'. "Very well. I'll surrender it..." Dropping it over the ledge of the building, he watched as all the eyes followed it, curious of its contents, as it shattered against the pavement below. Revealing the 'portrait' to be a mere window.

As it was falling however, Jack became one with the night and jumped from the other corner, wall climbing to the ground and making an escape. He had other things to attend to, and would not be caught by these meddlesome clowns called agents. No, no, he would leave Mr. Gray to deal with them. What fun! Phasing through the wall of a nearby building, Jack continued running in case the agents would follow, of course they were no match for one so skilled. Phasing through walls as he ran, Jack did not stop until he had reached safety.

OOC: Cameo, trying to get this thing to move again.