Casey’s Tuesday evening odd encounter(Matias)
Date: 2025-08-19 18:21
(Casey’s Tuesday evening odd encounter(Matias):Matias)
[Tue Aug 19 2025]
In The dressing room at The NightSide
It is about 60F(15C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Mayflower and Prospect/span
(Your target and their allies encounter someone who’s been supernaturally influenced into committing a crime for a supernatural. It is up to them to stop the crime and then maybe also try to find the true perpetrator, maybe freeing the thrall from their control in the process.
)
Casey is applying some touch up lipstick to her lips in the dressing room mirror at the nightside, preparing before she plans to go on stage and practice some songs to a mostly empty room. She’s dressed for a show, not something that would be appropriate outside of a club thats for sure. Her phone has the odd text from friends which she checks on and answers from time to time. Since she set no time to perform, she has no deadline to get out of that dressing room.
While Casey is in the back and the business is notably fairly empty it probably is not completely empty. There may be some other girls, some other employees, the odd patron or two… But what immediately becomes relevant to Casey is a college aged man, wearing an oversized dark blue hoodie and straight cut denim jeans with some sketcher shoes comes into the back area reserved for the singers and dancers. His hands are in his pockets and he has a shift look about himself. Pale skin, vaguely athletic build, a strong jaw, and dark hair. He has that Haven-esque above average attractiveness and so many he is a boyfriend to one of the employees but he is approaching Casey with a hurried step and as he nears the woman distracted by her phone, he pulls out a gun! Its a revolver, metallic steel in hue, leather handle, and it looks pretty real. He aims it at her midsection, two arms lengths away with his arm shakily stretched out. Speaking in an awkward and slightly paniced voice he says, “Gimmie all the cash you got on stage.” and then very unconvincingly adds, “Bitch.”
Casey drops her phone on the make-up counter out of surprise, the same surprise shows on her face. She turns to face the man in the hoodie and puts her hands up to show her palms empty, “What the fuck!” she says first, loudly as if to try and alert someone of the commotion in the dressing room. She’s dressed in such a bare outfit that she’s got no where to have a wallet, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a place to put money, “Just hold on, I’ve got like. Twenty bucks on me. Don’t point that gun at me.”
The hoodie wearing man licks his lips and looks around when Casey loudly goes what the fuck. He takes a half-step closer to her now perhaps nearly in her reach if she were to bravely (or foolishly) lunge forward. He points the gun at her head now and says, “Shhhh keep quiet. We don’t need security back here. Understand.” and then she mentions only having twenty and he takes another step closer and the barrel of the gun actually touches the side of her head, the man’s eyes seem very distant despite his awkward execution of the robbery. “Twenty bucks… What kind of stripper are you, its past six o’clock! You should have at least a few hundred in your thong.” and then corrects himself looking down at her hipset panties a moment of distraction perhaps, “Panties.”
“I’m not a stripper!” Casey says unconvincingly since she looks entirely like a stripper. “I’m a singer, I just dress for the show..and I haven’t even gone on stage yet tonight.” the woman says, flinching in fear as the gun touches her head. Despite the fear, the emo-femme isn’t panicking yet, she has the sense to look over the man’s features to commit them to memory. She might mistake the distance in his eyes for drugs as she reaches into the top of her bra to withdrawl a twenty dollar bill from the bank of underwear
When Casey offers up the twenty the hoodie wearing man snatches it with his free hand and stuffs it into the hoodie pooch pocket in the front. After that he presses the gun more firmly against Casey’s head as if trying to force her into curling or flinching down further. “Listen if you do not give me something to pawn or cash. I am going to blow your brains out and kill everyone here and rob the backroom!” and not it is him getting louder in a frantic whisper shout that gets loud at the end. He audibly cocks back the hammer of the revolver, the hamber rotating… Now the chance for an accidental misfire is quite high. “So you better fucking think of something because a song and a show ain’t going to satisfy me.” despite the awkwardness, the intensity is certainly ramping up quickly but his breathing seems very even to go with those distant eyes.
“Do you not know who owns this place? It belongs to someone in the Hand.” Casey tries a loose threat, but she bows to the gun and bends her knees to get lower as the barrel pushes on her skin. “If you hurt people here over twenty bucks, they’ll kill you and worse.” she hesitates, trying to think of something she might have that has value, “I bet I totally could satisfy you. No?”
The threat of the Hand and his imminent death for going to far seems to make the man pause his eyes blinking as they focus on Casey kneeling and cowering on the ground, offering to satisfy him. “No… No…” he says as if confused and then reaches up and brings the gun down to pistol whip the woman, striking her on the side of her head, her dark hair hiding the wound but not the immediate and concerning amount of blood generated from any head wound. Its a cut the size of a thumb, not serious, but painful and a bleeder too. “I cannot leave without something valuable. Even if I have to take you and sell you to someone on the street.” he insists the uncertainty and confusion fading as he seems to revert back to an escalating script of threats. “Now you give me something worth something or we’re going out and seeing how much you’re worth to the 63rd Legion.”
Casey cries out in pain and puts a hand to cover up the wound after she’s struck. She looks more fearful now. Desperate even. She glances to the curtains leaving the dressing room and considers screaming for help, which would likely doom her. So instead she tries something else. She slowly shows her other hand, pointing to her bra where she produced the money. “I’ve got something, you’ll like it. It’s probably worth a lot.” she slowly moves that hand to the bra, making no sudden moves so the man doesn’t shoot her.
The hoodie wearing young man holds out his free hand after pistol whipping Casey. His fingers make a grabby gesture as the gun for at least a few moments is retracted, vaguely aimed at her, but the money or whatever is clearly the focus now. “Gimmie, just fucking give it.” he insists with the grabby hands, his antsy energy becoming more obvious the way his weight is shifting foot to foot, not stable, not centered, the way his lips twicth, and shoulders kind of swaying.
Casey pulls out a small black rectangular object from within her bra. It fits nicely in her small hand and she holds it out towards the man. But just as she extends her arm she presses the button on it and a small blade suddenly pops out and she tries to jab it into the man’s belly. She puts some spring in her legs to get all her weight behind that blow, “Fuck you!” she cries out, loudly. Loudly enough that it might arouse outside suspicion
The gun goes off… BANG! as Casey lunges and stabs upward. The fact he had drawn it back and reached out his other hand means it misses her perhaps skims her shoulder or arm but definitely doesn’t catch the meat of the young woman. The blade does sink into the Hoodie wearing guys belly as he screams with a *ungh* as he stumbles back, hits the floor, the revolver sliding away and Casey left with a gushing gut wound blooding up her hand and beginning to soak into the hoodie and slowly… ever so slowly pool on the floor. “Ugh… God… No. Please. Don’t hurt me.” a weak voice begs as those distant eyes now frantically look up at the emo-femme’s face and pigtails with confusion and fear.
Casey isn’t one for violence and doesn’t have an organization to call her own so the fact she’s stabbed someone in the stomach reads as horrifying on the emo-femmes face. She still clutches her blade and would be smart to plunge it again but she’s not able to do the bad, unthinkable thing twice. Her ears are still ringing from the gunshot that just missed her but the adrenaline keeps her in the moment and she goes awkwardly for the gun to pick it up and point it at the man to hold him at gun point.
That gunshot would not go unheard and the Nightside security is rather burly demonborn working for the Hand. It’s probably a matter of time till someone responds.
It does not take more than a minute for someone to respond but instead of a burly demonborn it is Matias who walks up with his hands in his jean pockets and a dark blue blazer on his torso. “I would appreciate it if you did no kill Mister Aldine.” he says in a resonating baritone of a voice looking at the switchblade left in the young man’s belly and the way he is staring helplessly at Casey and the gun in her hand. “Windermere does not reimburse me for ressurecting students.” he explains with a dry kind of humor, those slate-grey eyes watching from behind low-set glasses.
Casey is a bit jumpy and swings the barrel of the gun towards Matias just for a moment before she realizes who it is. She’s bleeding from the blow to her own head, she’s got bruises on her from getting the snot kicked out of her earlier that day by Constance. She’s anything but ready for a show now. “Why? Who is this? Why did they attack me?” she glances to the gun in her hand after saying that, she doesn’t seem to like holding it and so she quickly puts it aside on the make-up counter
The hoodie wearing young man presumbly Mister Aldine has gone into incoherent mumbling and groaning as Matias walks forward and crouches down beside the college aged student of Windermere (presumably) and checks their pulse before shrugging and rising up. “A student. We have an ex-professor Elan Morin who has sided with the 63rd Legion. He is attacking Windermere students with alchemical memories and compulsions to commit crimes and bring him money for what reason we do not know. Potentially just to cause problems between Windermere and the factions.” he surmrises in that calm baritone while he rises up and brushes off his pant legs considering Casey and her roughed up, bloody state. “I already convinced the bouncer not to come back, but now I feel like I should have. Would you like that bandaged?” he motions up towards her head and then adds, “Also could you please call 911 so an ambulance will save this brainwashed idiots life?” prioities right?
“Oh..I’m alright, but I’m probably gonna have to cancel my plans to perform.” Casey laments as she glances to the make up mirror. She finds her phone that she dropped at the make-up counter and dials for emergency services right away. During the wait she collects her trench coat to cover up a bit then she tells Matias “Sorry I stabbed your student.” shes apologetic despite the fact she was the victim here.
seems a bit skeptical as the headwound is still bleeding, down her ear, neck, and onto her shoulder but the trench coat certainly helps covering up the concerning trail of blood. The latino Professor does not press the point and looks down at the young man in the hoodie and then back to Casey. “I am sorry he tried to rob you. It is very poor behaviour for a student. I will educate him on how to resist mental compulsions once he has recovered.” he promises in an even-keeled baritone of a voice not seeming to find any of this the risquely dressed woman, the back of a night club, and the fact an ambulance is coming to help some gut stabbed mindcontrolled pawn terrible dramatic. “If there any bills for dry cleaning or getting that looked at, send them on to me. I will have Windermere reimburse me the expense.” he promises with the phone call made it is all but a waiting game for them to arrive.
Casey puts a hand to her head, wincing as she’s clearly dizzy and not thinking straight. “I should go home and rest.” she grumbles, glancing to the mirror and her messed up appearance one more time. “Do I gotta expect more trouble from this Elan guy or was this..mostly random?”
“It was mostly random and going home to sleep alone with a headwound sounds like a quick way to die, no?” Matias points out in a brazilian accented english as the ambulance has arrived and first responders are coming to the back. They immediately go to the young man but within minutes they decide he isn’t in danger of dying between here and the hospital so one of them approaches Casey offering treatment here or a ride to Windermere Teaching Hospital for concussion check and treatment. Matias seems content to let everyone do what they want but he does linger waiting for Casey to decide.
Casey refuses at first, being stubborn and still high on adrenaline but eventually some insistent warnings from Matias and the paramedics convince her to at least get checked out and she goes along with them. Clutching her trench coat close to stay covered.
As the paramedics and Casey are leaving Matias walks over to the makeup counter and picks up the gun before sighing and putting it back down. “Cursed object. You are a cunt Elan.” he begins performing a cleansing rite, but it will only take a few minutes and everyone else is gone anyway.