2012-09-28 The Good Mark - Mandrake

Deep through the forests of New York there is a lonely two-lane highway that stretches deep into the endless darkness of the night. On the road, cruises a rich and deep maroon Tucker Sedan. Sitting in the back, Mandrake leans back in his seat, tired and worn out from his show. "Lothar, keep it nice and easy...no rush, my good friend." Driving the car, is the powerful Lothar, his eyes in the classic ten-and-two position. "Aye, Mandrake. Quiet night, about forty-five miles until home." Mandrake leans forward in his seat, talking to Lothar. "How was your trip, back home? All is well, yes?" Lothar looks up in the rearview, nervously, he changes the subject. "How about some of the Big Band Music you, like?" Mandrakes offers back, "That would be delightful..." He knows his friend is hiding something, but he doesn't wish to push. The roaring sounds of the music soon fill the car.

Not much traffic late at night--which makes the sleek Japanese motorcycle that speeds up from behind all the more noticeable. The driver is obviously female, that much made clear by the form-fitting costume that really doesn't leave much to the imagination. The sleek motorcycle helmet hides the woman's features, but that usually isn't what draws the eye, anyway--in this case, it might be the small crossbow held in her hand. ((This, though with a face-concealing helmet: http://tinyurl.com/8zhwxo2 )) She pulls up behind the sedan and edges into the oncoming lane--so she can aim the crossbow at the passenger-side front tire and fire! It'll find home in the tire, deflating it instantly and making Lothar have to fight to keep control.


 * THWIP*! The arrow finds its home in the front right tire, puncturing the tire cleanly. Lothar, frantically jerks at the wheel, attempting to regain control of the car, but unfortunately for the giant man, combat driving is an art form, one the big man hasn't learned yet. The car goes Spiraling into the shoulder of the road, coming to a violent halt, launching Mandrake into the seat in front of him. "Uhhhh...." The Magician moans as he leans, back blood flowing from his nose. Lothar's head hit the steering wheel, sending him backwards and dazed.

The motorcyclist pulls the machine over, watching the car silently as she reaches into a quiver for another small bolt, readying the crossbow with it without even looking. She calmly slides off the machine, retrieving the quiver and affixing it to her belt before taking aim at Mandrake's top hat through the back windshield. A cant of her head as she takes aim--then another bolt is loosed! This one aimed going to shatter enough of the back windshield to let it through and pin the hat to the passenger seat.


 * KSSSSSHHHHH* The glasses easily gives way from the force of the arrow. The Arrows aim is true, striking the Top Hat with a clang as it meets the metal plate in the hat, but this only serves to slow the arrow down, as it still cleanly passes through the hat, dragging poor Mandrake forward into the seat well, crouching down, anger, fear, hopelessness make a weird cocktail in Mandrake's mind as his face twists up. Hearing the racked, Lothar dazedly begins fumbling at his seatbelt, and then his holster...his vision still blurred.

A third bolt is calmly put into the crossbow, as heels crunch on the dirt and leaves beside the road. The woman aims first for Mandrake's head--then that crossbow swings up when Lothar unfastens his seatbelt. Another k-TANG, the third bolt fired at Lothar--though she's aiming through the back of the driver's seat, this time, trying to send the thing through the soft cloth and such to hit the man's torso.

His first, his second, and his third line of defense gone, Mandrake clenches his fists as he gathers the last of his wits. Steeling his will, Mandrake kicks at the door, tramping him inside the car. After a couple of quick kicks, Mandrake kicks the door open and he quickly scrambles outside of the car, quickly getting to his feet, Mandrake moves to place the Car between him and his attacker. His hands are still clenched as his, eyes slit down, into a cold hard gaze. "What do you want...." He states, calmly. "If it is money...you can have it, but let me call an ambulance for my friend..." The rage, and pain taint the edge of his words, as he hands raise up, his eyes searching at the visor of the helmet, looking for a peek, just a moment with the eyes is all he wants now.

A fourth bolt withdrawn from the quiver and placed into the crossbow as the woman stops near the trunk of the sedan. She looks at Lothar a moment longer, making sure he's going to be occupied, then she turns the blank visor toward Mandrake. She doesn't answer him, though she does can't her head a bit to one side--then that crossbow is lifted again, this time pointed at Mandrake's heart. Another second, and she'll pull the trigger.

Catching the women's pause and silence as signs that this is something beyond a simple mugging, or obsessed fan, this was something new, foreign, primal. His hands and eyes failing to open a window, Mandrakes moves on to plan 'B'. His fingers reach deep into his sleeves, he pulls out two decks of cards, which he flourishes at his attacker, this is followed, by another two decks, and another two decks, and once more. As the cards fly everywhere, Mandrakes starts moving to his right, performing a roll through the mud, using the cascade of flying cards as a poor man's smoke screen.

When the cards start flying, the crossbow's trigger is pulled, though the crossbow is aimed downward. The bolt gets stuck in the dirt at Mandrake's feet, though there's no danger of it hitting his feet since he's beating them to get out of Dodge. The woman yanks up her cape to use as a shield against the cards, crouching a little behind it. When the shower of cards ends, the woman emits a soft huff--the first sound she's emitted thus far, and definitely one of annoyance. She reaches into her quiver for a fifth bolt, setting it into the crossbow as she calmly walks around the car. Even if she were trying to be stealthy, the continued crunch of the heels on the dirt and detritus makes it obvious that she's making her way around to the passenger side, where she'll bring up that crossbow and start looking for Mandrake.

Keeping low, Mandrake lets out a sigh as the arrow hits at where his feet were, quickly he moves around his Car cover, his hands running on the ground as they find what he is looking for, a small, heavy compact rock. Perfect for throwing. He closes his eyes, stretching out his mind and intellect, using the sound of his attacker's feet to guide his own positioning. After a few long moments to Mandrake, he pauses deciding this is the place to make his stand. His friend dying, his rabbit dead from the arrow that went through his hat, soon, the Magician be joining them. He shakes his head, 'No. This isn't what the Phantom would do.' He thinks to himself, as he clutches his rock one last time. Thoughts of his good friend give him courage, to launch from his position, tossing the rock for all he is worth at the visor of his attacker, hoping to break her shield.

Step, step, step--the woman's heels continue to crunch as she slowly walks around--then the magician darts out from his cover. The crossbow is lifted--and fired just as the rock impacts with her helmet. Spider webs crack along the visor as she stumbles backward with a loud exclamation of surprise and pain, smacking into the car and half-crouching against it. She shakes her head to clear it, then quickly starts reaching for another bolt as she stands straight once more.

The arrow pierces into Mandrake's lunging body, striking him in the middle of his thigh, sending shockwaves of pain through his body. The faintest hint of a smile lines his face, as the rock found its mark. The pain from the arrow, causes Mandrake to slump once more in the muck, blood, dirt, oil from the car, pool around the normally prim and proper Magician. He has to laugh a moment, a small laugh born of triumph, frustration, and understanding. He blinks his eyes a couple of times, as he focuses on the spider-glass visor, his fingers begin to rhythmically dance to the beat of the radio, which whimpers out the music from the Big Band Radio station. His body radiates calmness, satisfaction, and sense of accomplishment through his fingers as Mandrake's eyes search the visor, looking for the smallest crack, just the hint of her eye color. For a moment, he wonders if they are pretty.

As the magician starts focusing his energies, the woman withdraws a sixth bolt from the quiver, and she's starting to put it into the crossbow when she notices what the man is doing. Her movements start to slow as she apparently locks eyes with the man. The crack might be small, but it's apparently there, if the fact that she just gets slower is any indication. It's like someone watching a movie and hitting the "slow-down" button. Shadows likely obscure her eye, but the tiny bits of tinted visor-glass do speak of there being enough of a crack for her eye to make contact with Mandrake's.

Locking eyes with the Women, Mandrake peers deeply into her mind as he fingers weave a web between their minds through the gesture. He focuses all of energies into an idea, pushing it deeper and deeper into her mind, reality being rudely shoved to the side. 'You have killed your target. You must call in your employer. Tell them the job is done. Then leave your phone and crossbow, best to leave the evidence.' All of those words are being chanted over and over again in the women's mind. Normally, Mandrake would show more care, to leave the mind unharmed, but the pain and rage he is feeling, costs him his focus. So he continually drives the thought into her mind, with the force of a sledgehammer driving a spike into her conscious mind.

The crossbow is slowly lowered, then fingers relax and let the weapon fall to the ground. Keeping her head pointed at Mandrake, she slowly reaches into her belt and pulls out a small disc, which she places against the side of the helmet. After a moment, her muffled voice comes. "It is done." A pause. "Six." Another pause. "Understood." The disc is dropped to the ground, then she unfastens the quiver from her belt and that, too, gets dropped to the ground. Without another word, she turns to walk back around the car, slowly heading for her motorcycle.

Sitting still, in the filth of the Fight, Mandrake holds perfectly still, his heart fluttering as he keeps his pulse under control. His instincts tell him to go for Lothar's gun, but reason overrides his base desires. There will be another time and another place. He lets his eyes drift towards Lothar, checking for signs of life. The faint glimmer of life in Lothar reinforces Mandrake's decision. Best to get her gone, then he can see to his friend. His mind already noting the disc and the quiver. He waits for her to go, before moving to the items. A good illusionist, knows most magic is about selling the fantasy and not disturbing the reality.

The woman gets on her motorcycle and presses the button to get the engine started. She guns the engine and spins the thing around, then screeches off in the direction she came from, cape billowing and snapping in the wind behind her. She doesn't even look back, instead hunching over the machine to get just that much more speed.

Eyes closing and breath leaving the wounded Mandrake, the Magician lets out his stress as he hears the Motorcycle leaving. He looks at the arrow in his thigh. "It seems, we are playing for keeps..." He muses to himself as he wills himself back to his feet. He doesn't pull out the arrow, as it is better to leave it in, until a professional can look at it. He pulls out a phone and calls a number. "Yes, a mutual friend told me to call you in case a magic trick should ever go awry. Well..." His words are filled with pain. "It appears, that one has...meet me off the Old Highway, exit marker 24. I trust you will be discrete? Jolly good." He hangs up the phone, sliding into his pocket. He limps to the disc and the quiver which he grabs and pockets quickly. He then looks at Lothar, his friend still alive. He moves his way to the arrow in the ground, the tire, and the back of the seat which he collects, dropping his hat and the bloody mess inside on too the floor of the car. Choking back a few tears, Mandrake takes the hat to a bit of soft ground. With his hands he digs a small hole, dumping the contents of his hat into it. He fills the hole, mumbling a small prayer, before returning to Lothar. This is the worse that Mandrake as ever seen his friend, and there is nothing Mandrake can do for him, but wait until help arrives. So Mandrake does the only thing, left he can do. He walks towards his driver, bodyguard, companion, and friend. He slides into the seat next to him, clutching his friend and holding him, as a few tears flow now. "Oh Lothar...I am so sorry..." He says to the man, as he puts thoughts of love and Lothar's wife into his own mind. So that he radiate those feelings to his friend. For all the good it will do.