bakerstreet | police & thieves.

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police & thieves.

THIEVERY MEME

Nothing gets a thread going like conflict! Someone stole something of yours, and you want it back, huh? Or, wait, are you the thief?

The why's and hows are up to you (though there are some prompt ideas under the cut!), but the basics are the same: One's a thief and one's a mark. What will you do to steal what you want? Or: what will you do to get it back?

Thievery threads can vary in tone and content from gritty back streets to zany adventures. You can go from violence to Robin Hood-- or a mix of both. And there's always the potential for the thief to fall in love with their mark... or is the seduction just more subterfuge? You know, there's no honor among thieves.

Specify in your toplevel if you have any preference whether you're a thief or a mark, and have fun! Likewise, some of these threads can contain violence, so please specify if that's something you'd like to avoid.

PROMPTS
1. PURSE SNATCHING: Doesn't have to be a purse! Could be a wallet! But the details are the usual: You're minding your own business on the street, and some jerk bumps into you. And-- hey! They've got your stuff! Go get 'em.

2. ROBBERY: Stick 'em up! Holding up a bank, a convenience store, a deli, it doesn't matter. The mark's just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Are they gonna try and be a hero?

3. HEIST: Sometimes you don't have to crash in guns blazing. There's hidden jewels, a secret safe, a casino that needs unloading. Maybe the mark is there to guard the treasure. Maybe they are the treasure.

4. ARMORED VAN: Who says car chases aren't exciting? That armored van has the precious goodies you want, and that driver better watch out!

5. WILDCARD: Got a better idea? Go for it!

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Oh, shit, someone's letting Wade drive. By 'let', of course, we mean 'Wade Wilson stole the armored van while it was idling outside the tattoo parlor'. Permission. It's a, you know, loose concept.

And his driving is also a pretty loose concept, as the van careens to a stop next to her, leaving long arcs of burned rubber. "Want a lift?"

Because, sure, what could be less weird than a stranger in a van offering a little girl a lift?

These are all things that should normally be red flags. The armored van, the man in a costume, the fact that he's paying attention to her as a person and not saying do you know where your mommy is? But Laura's knowledge of the world is limited to comic books and operation tables, and she knows which ones she prefers.

(Anyway, it's not like she's a normal sight either, walking down the dirty road with blood on her hands, splattered over her shirt and throat.)

Something about a man in a costume puts her at ease. Not totally, but... a little. She considers it a moment before nodding, climbing into the van. If he tries something, she'll just cut off his head. She doesn't bother with the seat-belt. She pokes her head out of the door for a moment, and scrunches up her brow, frowning.

"Vamonos. Ahora, vamonos."

Wade's entire LIFE is a red flag, and it's never stopped him, so kudos, sister!

"Gotta admire the fashion choice." Red. He gets it. He TOTALLY gets it. "Dangerous." He floors the gas pedal, the van lurching forward. "Sassy." Like him. Like his driving.

"So, where to?" He leans over, winking. "And if I can ask, whooooooose blood is that?" If it's hers, he's probably going to have to detour to a hospital. But if it's not, it's gonna be a hell of a story!

She's not quite sure if he's joking-- he sounds like he is, but she's been wrong before. She stares at her hands, and back at him. He smells like blood too, and poison, tumors and death and... cheap food.

That isn't really answering her questions, but then, she hasn't asked.

She holds onto the seat as the van speeds forward, eyes narrowing like an annoyed cat. She keeps an eye on the rear view, and the cars weaving through traffic to follow them. Her face twists into a feral snarl. "Theirs."

And maybe hers a little but details!

Rule one of Deadpool: he is probably joking. Even when he's serious, he's joking. It's part of his charm!

That little snarl is adorable. "That's my girl!" Okay, she's not his girl, because there are probably laws against him adopting anything other than a frog or something, but that's not the point.

He does notice the way her eyes keep skipping over the mirrors. "Asss, did you save some bad guys for Daddy Deadpool?" Because if he spots anyone chasing them, well, they're not going to live long enough to regret the comically painful deaths he will inflict on them.

This just brings more questions, like why she's 'his' anything or why he says he's her father. He might smell like he's dying, but he's certainly not her father. But more pressing concerns are emerging, like how the cars behind them are slowly but surely gaining. She continues to tense, and eventually two tiny claws emerge from her knuckles.

"You drive," is all she says. She'll need a getaway, and this is as good as anything; she's noticed he drives a lot faster than everyone else on the road, and she appreciates that.

She wonders if she should thank him? Probably, but she doesn't feel like it. So she just shrugs and begins to open the door again, preparing to launch herself out and onto the windshields of the cars behind them. There are still people that need killing.

Shhhh, don't ask questions. They'd only ruin this magical moment between them. You know, the magical moment when they're slicing through traffic at Ludicrous Speed both carefully not discussing murder.

"Of course I drive. Not sure you can reach the pedals!" Or, you know, do THIS with the steering wheel--'this' being a hard cut to the left that rocks the vehicle up on two wheels for a second. Because he sees her hand on that door, trying to open it. "No fair trying to hoard all the fun for yourself. No one likes greedy geese." So, don't be a greedy goose.

Laura jabs her claws into the seat, trying to stay in it and not, you know, fly out the window. Seat-belts are all well and good if you know what they are, but Laura's only got the faintest idea. She watches as the cars behind them continue to gain.

She narrows her eyes, trying to figure out where geese entered into this conversation (they skipped simile and metaphor day at torture school). "I deal with this," she says more slowly, because he probably just didn't understand her.

Maybe she's not missing anything. Maybe he's just stupid. That would... explain a lot, actually.

Seat belts are for chumps, and neither of them, in Deadpool's mind, are chumps.

Oh, he understood her. At least the violence part. They are...simpatico like that. "Uh hunh, shortcake. I'm already an accessory here, and, well, I'm not cut out to be an accessory!" He's cut out to be the prime actor in any illegality and/or mayhem. "Also, you're underage and need a parent or guardian's supervision." Yep yep.

"ALSO," another swerve of the steering wheel and the van rocks again, "Looks like our new friends are feeling a bit shooty!" NOW you see why he stole the *armored* car, right? See? Deadpool = smart!

Questions continue to pile up, like what's an accessory, and what's a short cake, and what's under age? She doesn't feel like asking.

She starts, almost growling when bullets hit the van. This man... he talks too much. They're loosing time. She rolls her eyes; if he's not going to cooperate, it's not worth jumping out of the van. She needs him as a getaway. "Pull over," she says, "then I kill them?"

Is that good enough for you, red guy?

That's simple, silly. She's an underage shortcake. He's the overage beefcake.

Sooner or later the questions will build up pressure in her brain and then her head will explode. Or something. Fuck if he knows.

"You're still having problems with pronouns, sweetpea." He's going to reach across to try a poke her nose, because booping strange children with claws that remind him of someone he is not fond of is totally normal and healthy. Just like him.

"WE kill them, not 'I'." That's correction number one. "And also," Oh, he hopes she's got a good grip on something including her ass, because he's gonna slam the brakes so hard the rear tires almost leave the road. "Heroes don't pull over." They apparently just stop in the middle of the road.

Heroes, apparently, get ready to exit the rear of the vehicle, with a swift kick out the back van doors.

She's still got her claws in the seat, which is what keeps her from flying straight through the windshield. It's pretty lucky, considering she hates doing that. It's up there with brushing her teeth and waiting in lines.

She isn't really shaken once the car stops. She's mostly annoyed. "Fine," she says, still not sure why this is a proHblem for him. Once all the men are dead, then she'll ask the questions she needs to, if she can find the words for them.

Cars swerve around their van, blaring their horns and occasionally crashing. The cars chasing them stop. Men in armored tactical gear come out, waving guns and making threatening statements. Laura's done this before. The details all bleed together. She frowns over at the red man. "Do not die."

Then it'll be her fault, and she can't take much more of that. It's all she says before finally, finally launching herself out of the van, claws at the ready.

See, look, they have something in common! ~~Other than a penchant for killing bad guy~~. Deadpool doesn't like getting thrown through windshields EITHER! It's not his least favorite thing, but it's definitely on the list. Top five.

But hey, there, sister, don't kill all the men. First off, save some for him, and second off, Deadpool himself just happens to be a man. Bet it wasn't hard to guess with all this form fitting spandex!

And third off, it's hard to answer questions when he's dead.

And fourth off, having to un-die again is definitely in the Top Three of his Least Favorite Things.

"Aww, that's the sweetest thing you've said to me, like...ever!" True! But he won't let any warm smooshiness near his heart slow him down from the job, which is...what are they doing this for again? Making the world safe from democracy? Fuck if he knows.

SHIT! She's gotten ahead of him.

Too much introspection, dammit!

Well, on the plus side, she's got claws attached to her body, and Deadpool's got, you know, GUNS. "Blam blam, motherfucker!" He's just warming up his fight repartee, okay?

"And pretend you didn't hear the naughty words!!"

Between the claws and the swords and the guns, they make quick work of the guys coming after them. The biggest problem, really, is the cars swerving in and out. They are still in the middle of a highway, after all.

Laura tries to go for lethal first, to minimize damage. Preventitive care so her new friend doesn't get his head blown off. She's still not sure she believes that he can fight worth anything. If his driving's any indication, she's not sure he can do much.

By the end of it, where she's pulling her claws out of somebody's skull and wiping the blood off on her pant leg, she has to reassess her opinion. Okay. Okay, he can fight.

She hops over a few scattered bodies, having to stab a few a second time just to make sure they're dead. A norman ten-year-old should probably be bothered by the sound of ribcages crunching underfoot, but she doesn't seem to notice. She skitters next to the red man, and holds out her hand.

"Laura." He did good. They're friends now.

She's young, so clearly she doesn't recognize the fine nuances of Tactical Driving ^tm he'd been demonstrating back there.

Lethal first? Lethal ALWAYS unless it's fucking FRANCIS who deserves pain and humiliation. ~*Painmiliation*~.

He's gonna copyright that!

He did good? Try asscrunchingly excellent! But still, that was some show she put on. So forget that hand she sticks out, she's going to get the Full Deadpool Hug Experience.

Yeah, he probably should have showered today. Sorry.

"You can call me Dadpool!" Because he's waited...like ten whole minutes to make that joke. [ ]

Laura endures the hug because, really, if he was going to kill her, he would have already tried. But since he's still got all his limbs, sure, she'll take the hug. He smells like BO and blood and that sickness again, crawling through his veins. And fried food.

"You are not my father," she says, a touch petulant, before wrestling herself from his grip. She never decided to endure the hug for very long.

"That's what makes you so awesome!" He resists the urge to pinch her cheeks. Barely. That's his sum total of impulse control for the day, so...hope she enjoys it! "No child support!"

OR money for the massive amounts of psychological counseling an actual child of Deadpool would doubtless need.

Well, that's the happy post-kill moment, where they both survey This Stuff We Destroyed in peace. Or, in a small area of carnage amid the swerving cars and yelling passersby. And the sound of approaching police sirens.

That's his cue!

"So, what do you say to...a Blizzard?" Because what cools bloodlust better than frozen treats? NOTHING. Not a goddam thing.

Hearing the sirens approach, Laura immediately goes into a defensive stance, claws extending, back hunched. She's all to ready to cut up the police officers when they arrive, but...

She squints up at Deadpool... Dadpool... whatever.

"What is blizzard?"

He sees that attack crouch, you. "No, no. We don't kill Johnny Lawdog. Only bad people." Unless Johnny Lawdog is a bad, bad dog. But mostly, killing cops? Not worth the shitstorm.

"WHAAAAAAAT?" If he had pearls, he'd be clutching them. "What kind of Mommy Dearest level childhood have you had?" It's un-American to not know what a Blizzard is. "It is a delicious frozen treat with candy in it!" Because inevitably this scenario had to have the creepy old guy in a van offering the little girl some candy. Had to happen.

"Come on, shortcakes. I will open your eyes to the wonders of junk food, and then, you can tell me why those guys were after you so hard!" Hey, he's not a psychopath. He only ruthlessly kills people for reasons. Now, he'd like to know the reason he just killed those guys.

He talks so fast, and uses so many words in ways she's never heard before, she has to take a moment to understand him. And with the police coming, they probably don't have the time. What she understands is, he doesn't want them to fight the police. She also thinks maybe he has a friend named Johnny Lawdog who is police? Well, she won't hurt his friend.

Also, eating food sounds nice.

She nods, and climbs back in his van, still not putting on her seatbelt. She hears the sirens growing closer. "Vamos, vamos."

It's true: Deadpool has weaponized language.

All that right and wrong stuff will have to come from someone else: he's a fan of situational ethics. Which is a fancy way of saying 'killing people who clearly deserve it' as he happens to define it in any given moment.

"Now you're talkin'!" He scans the oncoming cars. "Pick one, bitty NOT Wolverine." Because Dadpool is gonna give you a present: a getaway car! What? An armored van's a LEEETLE conspicuous, don't ya think?

Laura's never cared about cars, or much been able to tell one kind from the other. She picks a truck, one that looks a little like the one she stole for Logan at the end of things. It's good enough. She points to it, unsure what Deadpool's going to do next, but willing to trust him.

Well, trust him for the next ten minutes or so. Ish.

"Nice choice!" Unobtrusive, yet with a good engine? He approves!

Not that his approval was actually a good thing in most civilized circles.

He does a flaily run right in front of the vehicle. "My little girl!" It's his best falsetto, even, dusted off for the occasion, to accompany some pointing at Laura. Who will hopefully take the hint and look injured and/or nearly dead. Anything other than 'child of the corn', which seems like her baseline. "Help!"

It's called bait and switch, and as soon as he can, he's jerkin' that driver out of the front.

Is it still carjacking if it's a truck? Hashtag showerthoughts.

Laura hasn't got a single clue what Deadpool is trying to do. She watches, expression blank except for a tiny furrow of her brow. What is he trying?

Luckily for them both, children of the corn or no, Laura is still covered in blood and viscera. It's kind of hard to miss in the midmorning sun. The driver of the truck, a middle aged woman in a cowboy hat, gasps and begins unlocking the driver's side door.

If she had a clue what he was doing, a) she'd be doing better than him and b) would probably tell him not to. It's just better this way shhhhhh.

And because Deadpool is a Grand Master at Seat of Pants Strategizing, the ploy actually works. Though, just saying, don't put in for that Best Duo award for acting yet, clawgirl, because your acting needs work. Good thing for those special effects. And by special effects, he means gore.

What? Blood is totally special.

Wade will show you how it's done, edging over by the door as the driver begins to get out, wringing his gloved hands. "My baby! Help her!!!!" See? THAT is acting. Eat that, Hugh Jackman!

And it's like Candy from Baby easy to jump into the driver's seat after that, slewing the vehicle between the woman and Laura, leaning over to pop open the passenger door for her (what a gentleman!) . "And this, dear, is called car jacking. Can you say it? Say it with me. CAAAAAR JAAAAAACK."

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police & thieves.

laura | x-men | ota.

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