Frank strides up to the patrol car. There are three cops, well, one looks like a normal guy, while the other two are in uniform. They don't seem to notice Frank, as he actually walks right up on them, slamming his hands down on the patrol car and crushing huge dents into the hood. The slamming sound alerts the cops, who all three look over toward Frank ...
** Bob **
Suddenly, only a few seconds after Kruger explains the detail, there is a loud bang toward the street. There, the three police offers spot a huge guy, shirtless, and looking a tad crazy. He's got his hands on the hood of the patrol cars about fifteen feet away ...
The panic overtakes Frank as the three men turn as one to look in his direction. "Shit", without a second thought the man is off at a full run. He doesn't understand the feelings that are racing through his mind. He just answers their call and flees. ...I didn't mean to make myself so obvious. What the hell was I thinking? Their gonna shoot my ass for sure now... "FUCK"!
Running from the scene as fast as I can. Though Frank doesn't understand why.
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...
Bob turns around quickly, looking at the big guy with his hands on the hood of the car.
"What the hell?"
He spies the crazed look in the strange man's eye, as well as the torn, disheveled attire... something about the man in front of the car gives him a cold and uneasy feeling inside...
"He's got to be sick... sick or on drugs... something's not right. This could get very, very bad. Guy that size, on drugs... that's a tough collar, even for three cops..."
Bob motions for the other cops to stay where they are. He walks forward, into a patch of headlights, so he's visible - forces himself to look the man in the eyes as he flashes his badge.
"Sir, what are you doing to that patrol car? This is a LAPD homicide investigation. Please step back unless you have... SHIT!'
The huge man bolts.
Bob turns to the two cops standing behind him.
"Keep this area sectioned off, and call for some backup. That guy knows something!"
He then turns, and takes off after the huge guy without a shirt.
"Sir! Sir, you *must* stop! Stop and you will *not* be harmed!"
Bob is a man of roughly average height and build, a little slim, and extremely handsome - the sort of guy you'd expect to be in pictures in a town like Hollywood. He's got short brown hair in a fairly conservative haircut, brown eyes, and a good amount of designer stubble going on his square jaw. The bags under his eyes indicate he's just a little bit fatigued - probably got woke up out of bed to look at the dead body. He's currently wearing a suit.
His pursuers hesitate just long enough to give Frank a small head start. Fortunately he knows this area relatively well. He uses that to his advantage as he ducks down a small side street roughly a block away. His huge loping stride evidence that he's not a yuppie jogger shithead. Normally he wouldn't run from anything but tonight is different. His mind is racing down a thousand different shards of memory as he continues to pick up speed. As though his body is just trying to keep up pace. He's running from something he cannot identify and that alone spurs the man on. Each step bringing him closer to his goal. The fire escape two blocks away...
Frank is a giant of a man. Who is currently wearing babyshit and an old pair of ripped jeans. He has quite a few old scars on his torso. Some the result of bar room brawls, but most from his fathers lash. He's a grizzled old fart who normally doesn't bother himself with other people.
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...
"Jesus Christ... how can something that big move that fast?"
Wainwright attempts to close the gap between the giant and himself, pushing himself as hard as he can... but it's just too much. The man ahead of him is a damn behemoth, loping ahead at a pace that Bob just can't keep up with. He can't even hear the man breathing hard...
His quarry ducks around a corner, and Bob struggles to catch up. He tries to ignore the burning in his lungs as he shouts again, this time, less authoritative and more raggedly:
"Police! Halt, or I'll shoot!"
"Empty threat... that bastard could probably rip you a new one before your second shot... and it will damn well take more than one well-placed bullet to drop a junkie that big. The way he runs... like he's hopped up on meth or something... lets hope at least he's afraid of the *idea* of pain..."
The two uniforms cannot be seen now, as Frank and Bob run off, out of the alley and onto the main street. Frank has a head start on the detective, and moves pretty fast, but Bob keeps up decently.
Now, about twenty feet behind the huge, shirtless man, Bob warns him that he might shoot if Frank does not stop. Frank must decide.
Frank is still about twenty feet away from the next intersection or alleyway. It will not be easy to escape. There are several trash cans lying around the street, some overturned. It must be trash day. Frank passes a door of a small deli, called Emberto's Deli. The store currently looks closed. There is light traffic on the two lane street, and there are several similar shops on the other side.
Remember movement restrictions, etc. Do not assume you can get to the alleyway in one turn. Please use my information for your decision making, do not make up things. Thanks
Frank hears the cops words resounding off of the building surfaces. At the mention of being shot at, and unable to reach the fire escape he's been seeking. He aims his mass at the nearby deli door. Hoping that with his size and current speed it will burst open ruining the officers shot. The whole time trying to push his fear away and regain his focus. He remembers the last time he was shot at. ...I was busy deflowering Thelma Potter out by the old corn crib. Her father was none to happy to see me and let me know it with two rounds of scatter shot in the seat of my pants. Damn it burned more than the devil shoving hot coals up your ass. Fucking rock salt... Even now the thought makes him cringe. BOOM, the giant's shoulder makes contact with the door....
Not positive but I believe that you use brawl and strength for this kind of roll. If thats the case I would have a dice pool of 8 (+2 more if vigor kicks in).
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...
Frank slams his shoulder recklessly into the door. He shoulder bursts through the window, breaking the glass everywhere and rocks the door on its hinges and nearly cracks the door in half. Unfortunately for the huge brute, the door does not come off its hinges, and Frank does not get through and out of the street.
Page 137, "Breaking Down a Door". Dice Pool: 7 (Strength + Stamina + Vigor). 6 Vitae Remaining. 2 Success. Structure at 1/2
"Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies."
Bob watches the giant of a man slam into the door. He can practically smell the panic as he rushes towards him. He tries to get within a safe distance, and stand in the light. He hasn't even drawn his gun yet. He's breathing hard, but looks like he could still go - for a little while.
"But damn, he's fast. And good Lord, what has he done to that door?"
"Sir, just calm down and stop running! If you stop and cooperate, you will not be harmed! I just need you to answer some questions!"
Bob runs forward, but WITHOUT his gun drawn, moving up upon the frantic man. He points his gun at him and repeats his warning. He catches up to him, standing only about two yards away.
Somewhere the to uniforms are doing something ...
Jackson 14, Kruger 13, Frank 10, Wainwright 9
The hulking man, halfway through the door ...
Last edited by TetNak on Wed Mar 21, 2007 11:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
