Johnnie Redmayne (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
phantomrider) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
beyondtheline2025-04-19 07:28 pm
phantomrider) wrote in beyondtheline2025-04-19 07:28 pm
I sure like the feeling of an endless road
[A few hours of open road makes for easygoing fun. It's great to be traveling again, and the feeling of Chrissy leaning up against his back, holding on tight while he whips ahead on a wide-open freeway through the pitch black of night is like nothing else. The last time they were racing up and down this freeway, they were on the way to go burn a bunch of people's lives down - but now that's hours back, back with the rest of the city. They've left the lights and have nothing to look at but the pavement in Johnnie's headlight, the glimpses of stars shining weakly through hazy clouds, and occasionally an oncoming car.
Johnnie hasn't exactly been trying to tune in to his senses or abilities or whatever it is he has - he's just been cruising, letting the night go by, enjoying their plunge northward without a care or a thought. So it is deeply irritating when the pavement quickly fades to a well-worn dirt track that almost tosses him and Chrissy to the ground, and it takes all of his skills to get the front wheel under control and to slow down before they hit a rock that really might launch them into the nearest alfalfa field. Or whatever it is that's here, whenever they've found themselves. Somewhere pre-freeway. Boo.
But there are a few lights ahead, and he did need a stop to pee, so, fuck it.]
Well, shit. Y'know, I dunno exactly where we are. Last sign said San Jose was still fuckin' hours off. You good? That was kinda shaky.
[As long as this dirt road stays packed, they can drive it, but it's going to be slow. Good thing they're almost to somewhere.]
Johnnie hasn't exactly been trying to tune in to his senses or abilities or whatever it is he has - he's just been cruising, letting the night go by, enjoying their plunge northward without a care or a thought. So it is deeply irritating when the pavement quickly fades to a well-worn dirt track that almost tosses him and Chrissy to the ground, and it takes all of his skills to get the front wheel under control and to slow down before they hit a rock that really might launch them into the nearest alfalfa field. Or whatever it is that's here, whenever they've found themselves. Somewhere pre-freeway. Boo.
But there are a few lights ahead, and he did need a stop to pee, so, fuck it.]
Well, shit. Y'know, I dunno exactly where we are. Last sign said San Jose was still fuckin' hours off. You good? That was kinda shaky.
[As long as this dirt road stays packed, they can drive it, but it's going to be slow. Good thing they're almost to somewhere.]
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We're good. Go, go!
[Sirens sound off in the distance. There's no way to tell if they're approaching or if the people above them called, but it's fun to think that's the case and they're outrunning the stupid cops. Always staying one step ahead is hilarious to her. Her laughter is loud as she howls and holds onto him tight, pressed up close against him as he takes off down the street.]
Let's see if we can get unlost and find a jewelry store next! We'll keep those pigs squealing all night when they try to stay on our trail.
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[One thing motorcycles are great for is navigating little streets like they one they're on. He takes a few unnecessary turns just in case those cops really are after them, just to make sure their route will be harder to guess.
In fact, when he does see what looks like something of a more main road connecting between neighborhoods, he avoids it. They can take little winding side streets forever, as far as he's concerned. This gets them from Chinatown over toward something that looks a little more like a business district eventually - they pass by an eyeglasses shop, several closed offices, some kind of small private school, and a new-age looking yoga studio before they wind up at a place advertising jewelry and antiques.]
Perfect! Fancy shit in that window.
[A huge highly-decorated brass plate inlaid with semi-precious stones is their current display piece. Is it a real antique or is it trash? Who knows. Who cares, honestly - they'll find something worth reselling in here somewhere.
He swings the bike around to the little alley that goes between this row of shops, seeking a place to park, but a couple of figures scatter as his headlight shines down into the darkness. Kids, and the smell of spray paint. Johnnie smirks and hops off.]
Hey, c'mere. You kids want a job?
[He knows this game. They're going to fuck with his bike unless he and Chrissy give them something to do, and a few bucks for their trouble.]
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The kids eye each other before shrugging and stepping out from where they've hidden behind stacks of crates and wooden pallets from yesterday's shipments. There's just the two of them, two lanky boys that Chrissy notices are in those awkward years where they aren't quite little kids and not exactly teenagers yet.]
Hey, it's okay. Come on out.
[It's probably because both she and Johnnie barely sound older than they are that they relax, and are cautiously optimistic as they approach but stay a safe distance away. Her head tips over toward Johnnie so she can whisper to him.]
Are you gonna have them be lookout?
[The boys get a little antsy waiting, so the shorter of the two speaks up. He stands taller than he normally might, his chest puffing out as he postures himself to not look intimidated by a couple of strangers.]
Qué coño quieres?
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Hey, hey now, boys. Me vendría bien poco esquina, yeah? Por baro, no soy pinche ojete.
[The mention of money definitely earns a look of strong interest from both of them, even if they're still cautious. Taking offers from late night strangers in colors they don't recognize could come with all kinds of trouble.]
Serio, boys. Just a favor. Don't gotta do nothin' weird, just watch the street for us. An' don't touch my fuckin' bike neither.
[They both talk at once, interrupting each other.]
Cuanto?
What's with the -
[The second question, from the taller boy, is cut off by his friend elbowing him sharply in the ribs. Despite his shorter height, he's clearly the one who likes making the decisions, between the two of them. And how much money? is more important than whatever his friend was going to ask.
Johnnie hesitates, then glances at Chrissy. She probably has a better idea of how far money goes here. The five bucks he'd offer at home might not be worth much in the 80s.]
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[Chrissy taps at her lips with her index finger, then figures it won't hurt to toss out the amount she used to get for an allowance. It's the 80s, kids probably all get around the same amount for doing odd jobs, right? She ]
How about... [She pauses as she tries to figure out how to say it in Spanish.] Veinte? Yeah, I think that's it. Twenty dólares. Es bueno?
[The boys snicker at her broken Spanish and nudge each other as they seem to relax even more.]
Each?
[The shorter one speaks up, and his friend tugs at his arm and tells him to shut the fuck up. Chrissy shrugs and glances up at Johnnie. She's sure they have some twenties in her lunchbox she grabbed.]
Sure. Twenty each, but only after we make sure you didn't touch anything on our bike. If you do, me voy a...I'm gonna... [Oh shit, she has no idea how to say kill or stab or beat up. So she just pulls her finger across her throat to signal she'll do something vaguely violent. It makes the boys crack up even more because she's a white girl and they don't take her seriously at all.]
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[Johnnie snaps at them a little harshly, but it gets them to pay attention. This can't be treated as goofing off or those kids are totally going to pocket shit from the bike and try and get the cash they've just been promised. Forty bucks hurts and it's a lot less funny to him with numbers like that.
The kids stare at him, a little surprised, but still snickering, though that shuts up when Johnnie takes a step closer.]
Watch the street. Watch the bike. No pinche manches. Si tocan alguna de nuestras cosas, los colgaré de una farola. Claro?
[One of the kids snorts, the other rolls his eyes, but at least they look like they're taking him seriously now, they're just trying to be all cool and tough about it. There's just enough worry in their eyes that Johnnie settles more casually, hands on his hips, then turns back toward the jewelry store.]
Oye, espera! How long?
[Shorter kid's voice, Johnnie recognizes, and he looks over his shoulder.]
Until I say. C'mon, let's get this fuckin' door.
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I'm right behind you.
[Her voice is barely a squeak because she doesn't dare try to say anything at length until after she's taken a few breaths to clear her head. She glances back over at the boys as he works at getting the door open, and she's pleased to see they've taken Johnnie seriously. Gosh, he's good at being rough and commanding. ]
I'll get the money out of the tin I grabbed. There were a lot of twenties in there.
[He probably reeling after hearing $20 for each kid. That's a lot of money in 1967. It's even a lot of money to them here and now. But maybe he'll be able to focus more on that lock without the threat of money having to come out of his pocket.]
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Meanwhile, it takes him an extra second to process what she said through his concentration.]
Damn, there were? Thought you said it wasn't that much cash?
[Multiple twenties? A lot of them? Well, hell. That's the great thing about the future here, they throw money around like it's confetti. Their loose change is a chunk of his rent. That's exactly why they're here - and exactly why hopefully some of this shit is resellable even farther into the future, so when they come back home they can live like royalty.
Eventually the lock springs open, and Johnnie breathes a sigh of relief. He pockets his tools, then pulls the door open - cautiously this time, in case they also have bells or chimes or some actual shitty electronic alarm. Maybe if he has a few seconds -
Yep. He sees that blinking light right next to the open doorway. There's probably a deactivation code but who knows how the fuck these things work, and all he figures is they must give the user time to put that code in, so instead he uses that time to spring out his knife, pry the alarm panel loose from the wall, then pulls the whole thing off to disconnect the wires.]
Hope that works. Let's be quick, just in case. Get yourself somethin' real pretty to keep too, baby girl.
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[She doesn't need him to give her permission to take something for herself. But she does need the reminder that she should do so, because her primarily focus was definitely getting things they could pawn for all of the Enders. There's a grin on her face as she nods and hurries in after him, and doesn't waste too much time.
Maybe it's showing off, but it's mostly trying to figure out what she can do. Darkness going through people she's done. Using darkness to tear holes in reality she's starting to master. But using darkness to try and break through glass cases?
That's new. And it's pretty fucking awesome.
Well, it takes her some effort but she's able to focus long enough that she's able to create a small tear that she forces to explode outward, causing multiple display cases to crack and shatter open. Glass goes flying everywhere, and she's pleased when no alarms go off. Whatever Johnnie did must have disconnected the system.
All that jagged solidified darkness is discarded with a downward motion of her hand, and she jogs over to the cases to start pocketing and putting on everything she can carry. The pieces she keeps for herself are simple little things that have her birthstones. Tiny alexandrite studs on gold backings are popped right onto her ears, and a pretty pearl necklace that's timeless is draped over her neck. She grabs a moonstone ring to put on before she just takes the ring holder display containing tons of others that manage to shine even in the dim lighting.]
I don't think I can grab anymore, my everything is full. Should I head back out to the bike?
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[Johnnie laughs in pleased shock as Chrissy rips open the cases, then dives in to help scoop all the goodies up. As interesting as the fancy antiques are, they're way too hard to carry. But gold and pearls sell well in all eras, and so he aims for whatever looks the most expensive and stuffs his pockets.]
I really gotta fuck around more with that stuff I was startin' to get a feel for. You're so fuckin' good at this already, babe. Yeah, head on out an' keep an eye on those kids. I'll only be a minute.
[Pretty quickly he gets to a point where he can't hold more either - his pockets are full, his hands are full, it's all a little much. But what he can do is grab one of the fancy decorative pillows in the window display, rip it open with his knife, pull out a bunch of the stuffing, then fill that with bracelets and brooches and necklaces until his hands are free again.
And, okay, just because it's calling to him, he takes a look at a case that had some funny little artifacts from the past. Who knows what they're worth, but an engraved ivory smoking pipe might at least be an entertaining gift for someone. Dale would get a kick out of it. And a knife inlaid in the hilt with fancy stones? That's for Clicks. He grabs a few other curiosities, then jogs on out to the street.]
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Let's get this stuff put up.
[The taller boy is standing near the bike while the younger is standing on the corner of the street to watch for anyone. Chrissy smiles at the sight of them actually doing what they're supposed to, and hurries to get all the jewelry meant to pawn into her Mighty Mouse lunchbox so they can get the saddlebags done up. The kid standing close by is watching with wide eyes, and she gives him a smile as she grabs one of the twenties to hand over to him.]
Thanks for keeping an eye on things. Let your friend know he can come grab his twenty before we take off.
[But as soon as she says it, she realizes he's already running over. She waves him over and passes a twenty along to him too. Both boys grin and start taking excitedly in Spanish, in whispers so she can't tell what they're saying. But she's pretty sure she hears something about beer and girls so they must be planning to have themselves a little party tonight. The roll of her eyes is amused as she hops on the back of the bike and gives Johnnie a hand so he can get in place himself.]
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Okay no he can make sense of that it just takes a second to work out what she meant. White people, man.
Stuffing the whole jewelry pillow into the saddlebag is the next step while Chrissy pays off the kids, and he grins as he assesses their haul. Yeah, they did real good tonight and it hasn't even been that long.
So he gives the boys a wave and a brief farewell, then hops up into his seat and pats Chrissy on the thigh before starting up the engine and backing out onto the street.]
Good kids. Shoulda got their names. All right, let's get the fuck outta here. I think we oughta stash all this shit somewhere safe before we go fuck up Dante an' his boys. But if the cops are out lookin' around an' if they get word we're stayin' in that motel they might go look there, so... Any ideas?
[Up a tree? That's usually a good one. Or down in a manhole. Somewhere it'll be hard to spot for a few hours until they come back for it all.]
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[She knows she's heard of it at one point or another, it's supposedly a famous tourist destination. But when she's primed on theft and is focused on causing trouble, details of non-crime related activities tend to slip away.]
There has to be somewhere near there that's a park or something we can hide stuff for a little while.
[But if it's filled with tourists, maybe even at night, that may not be the best choice. Her mind turns to try and rapidly think of anywhere else, but it's hard when she just doesn't know the city.]
We need to think of somewhere we can put these things inside something so no one else can get them. [She pauses, giving him a squeeze as she rests her chin on his shoulder and thinks.]
Hey, what about a church? We've gone by a few of them. No one goes into them this late at night. And I bet they'd never think to look for us there. We can stick them up under a pew or something.
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[Way better than the bridge idea in his opinion. Sure, late night mass definitely can be a thing, but he feels like the odds are probably in their favor.
The first one they come to isn't actually a church, per se, it's a Jewish temple. Are those open all night? It looks pretty fucking dead right now. He parks outside and eyes it speculatively, then hops off.]
Same thing, right?
[The lights are off, there's nobody here. He trots on over to the front door before getting anything out of the bike, and there's nothing obvious on the little paper schedule next to that front door suggesting anyone's likely to come do Jewish midnight things, so he tries the front door and finds it swings open easily.]
Hey, I think we're good!
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I guess they don't need to lock up at night.
[Her voice is kept low, and as they head inside she's incredibly grateful that even though the lights aren't on there's some sub lighting that at least keeps it from being pitch black in here. They walk through a small foyer that leads to double doors that guide their way into the temple itself. It's definitely different from the church she grew up going to, but there's enough similarities that she smiles a little as she jogs on up ahead.]
There's a lot of seats all around this room, huh? Not exactly like a church where it's all benches straight in a row. And look, a stage!
[Is it a stage?
Probably not. But she dances her way up onto the platform as she looks for a place to hide their stuff. Everything up here looks too noticeable and obvious, so she makes her way back down and looks around the room as fast as she can.]
What about over here?
[There's a couple of wooden boxes that are on the floor against a wall, one that's latched closed with a padlock. The other is just latched without one, and she opens it up to reveal...
Candles.
A whole bunch of boxes of candles.]
Let's try putting everything in here. We'll be back in a few hours, way before sunrise.
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[No chance anyone's going to come in here in the next couple hours looking for stolen jewelry. And if by chance someone does, at least it won't be easily traceable to the two of them.
He helps her trot their finds over from the bike into the box. It's a tight squeeze, but with some force and a little shoving, they manage to get it all contained and latched, and Johnnie grins at their success afterward.]
That box'd be fuckin' bulging at the sides if it could. All right, let's get the fuck outta here. Y'know, maybe we don't need spray paint, just gasoline.
[Though spray paint will still be a great find if they happen to spot a hardware supply. Mostly he just wants to burn Dante's shitty hangout to the ground, and if they have to burn their mark into the earth to show it was them, fine.]
Just help me remember which streets we took so we can get back here without losin' all that stuff.
[Once they're both seated, he's off again - time to find themselves the tools they need to give those Jawbreakers all the regrets they'll ever be able to handle.]
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I think we need spray paint. Because I mean, we don't even know if Dante is still alive after what I did last night, right? But if he is, we want him to know it was us. And they won't unless we tag stuff around their clubhouse.
[It's one thing to set it all on fire, but she's in a particular sort of mood that demands vindictive destruction.]
Dante was so mean to you yesterday and he really hurt my arm when he grabbed me. So I want him and all his guys to pay for it. I wanna lock them in the clubhouse and make it hard for them to get out when it's on fire.
[Is that terrible?
She's losing the ability to tell what's unhinged and what's normal.]
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[The kinds of places that sell paint are usually close to where people need them. On the outskirts, near the suburbs. Near industrial centers and docks. And gasoline they can get anywhere. So he does his best to at least judge the general direction they need to go in to head back toward the harbor, and rockets down the street at speeds far exceeding whatever the supposed limit is.
Sirens, in the distance. Could be for them, could be something else. To the south. They're still in the clear for now, but he'll be keeping tabs.
Fifteen minutes or so dumps them into a stretch of factories lining the train tracks on their way to the harbor, and that's where he finds a hardware store easily enough. They have a tall metal fence and a heavy-looking lock on the gate.]
Guess they get fuckin' tired of people like us. C'mon, I'll boost you up.
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[She rolls her eyes as she stares up at the metal fence, but readily moves in closer so he can give her a boost. It won't be too hard for her to scale this thing and get to the other side, and sure enough she's climbing up and leaping over and landing on her feet. Getting the gate open isn't going to work with the lock, so she takes a second and stands back to figure out what to do.]
Hey, babe? I may try breaking in and getting what we need by myself. I'm not sure how to get you over here to this side. There's only the one gate, and that lock looks like a pain in the butt to deal with.
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[And maybe see if he can work the lock open with his picks, though he's not expecting it. It's practice, though.]
You wind up with more'n you can hold, just roll stuff under to me an' I'll get it on the bike. Or throw it over, I dunno.
[Or break a fucking hole in it with her weird fucking powers. Cool ones, yeah, but damn. Maybe that's what he should be doing, practicing his own shit, but he can't figure out how to access it without that background cosmic hum - or the purr of his bike engine on a long open road where he can let go of everything else.
Oh well. Lockpicking, it is, while listening to those distant sirens. So far, so good.]
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That's okay, the doors are glass. There's some garden things for sale off to the side, and she grabs one of the dog shaped little statues to slam against the door a few times until the glass shatters. The statue is set down at her feet and she pats it head before stepping through broken glass and through the jagged opening in the door to the inside.
There's signs hanging up near the ceiling, and she makes a beeline straight for the aisle labeled as paint. She finds a giant paint bucket and fills it with cans of spray paint, lots of black and red and yellow. There's a few cans of neon orange she grabs for good measure. On her way out she finds plastic gas canisters, but can't carry them along with the bucket. So she runs that out to the fence and starts rolling each can under to Johnnie one at a time.]
Are those sirens getting closer? I gotta run back in and get a couple of gas containers!
[It's hard to tell if the sirens are coming for them. Maybe she shouldn't chance it, but they really do need those containers.]
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I dunno, they're goin' in and out. Maybe when they go behind buildings or somethin'. I think we still got time, but you better hurry!
[He's excited, though. Racing the cops to burn some assholes' clubhouse to a crisp? Best kind of night there is. Any minute now the cops could turn down this way and catch them before they get out - so they just have to be faster, and he's good at fast.
Once the paint is all tucked away, he turns back toward the fence, and now those sirens are definitely louder. He takes one glance back toward the road, then shouts through the fence.]
Hey, you better hurry! If you don't have 'em just get out here, we'll get 'em somewhere else! Get some bolt cutters instead so you can get this lock off!
[Hopefully she can hear him yelling. With that, he runs and hops onto the bike. He can lead these assholes in circles all night if they get here before she gets out. He'll make sure they don't catch her trapped in there.]