Encounterlogs
Erics Odd Encounter Sr Ritsuka 241212
Eric's visit to the Trove Barcade in Haven, a place teeming with both humans and monsters alike, takes a dark turn when a seductive woman in a red dress captures his attention. Despite his initial boredom, Eric is quickly ensnared by her beauty and charm, falling prey to her persuasive skills. Without understanding the gravity of his actions, he agrees to help her, driven by an overwhelming desire to win her approval. The woman, using her supernatural influence, directs Eric to commit a robbery against a well-dressed man named Lothaire Beauchene. Despite the chaos and violence that ensues, including Eric shooting Lothaire in self-defense when threatened with a gun, he successfully robs the man, driven by a compulsion to please the mysterious woman.
After the robbery, Eric, still under the woman's influence, brings the stolen goods to her, expecting some form of intimate reward for his deed. Instead, he finds himself in a basement room, momentarily gaining clarity and realizing the extent of his actions. However, the woman quickly attempts to lure him back into submission, revealing more of her body in an attempt to seduce and control him further. Eric, facing a pivotal moment, decides to flee from the woman's grasp, escaping through a series of hallways and staircases until he finds himself in an abandoned stripper club. Making his way out, he finally reaches the relative safety of Devilwood Street, leaving behind the woman's manipulative clutches. His future remains uncertain, as the woman had seen him leave, posing a potential threat to his newfound freedom.
(Eric's odd encounter(SRRitsuka):SRRitsuka)
[Wed Dec 11 2024]
At The Trove Barcade
This room is dominated by a sprawling, weathered bar. The bar's surface, polished to a high sheen, is inlaid with a mosaic of colorful sea glass, glinting in the dim, lantern-like lighting.
The walls, painted a deep, oceanic blue, are adorned with an eclectic assortment of nautical paraphernalia. Aged maps, and faded flags are interspersed with vintage arcade game marquees. The ceiling, draped with tattered sails and thick, knotted ropes, gives the impression of being below deck on a ship.
In the corners of the room, clusters of arcade games flicker and beep, their colorful screens casting a kaleidoscope of light onto the wooden floorboards. The air is filled with the clatter of pinball machines, the electronic melodies of video games, and the occasional thud of an axe hitting its target.
Behind the bar, a vast array of bottles is displayed, their contents ranging from craft beers to exotic rums. The bartenders, dressed in pirate garb, deftly mix cocktails, their movements punctuated by the clink of glass and the hiss of a freshly opened beer.
North/South: Restrooms
Northeast: Games
East: Axe Throwing
Southeast: Competitive Games
Down: Laser Tag
It is morning, about 19F(-7C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target has been mind controlled by another into acting as their agent in a crime, compelled to perform a robbery or assault for this other agent. It is up to their allies to arrive and stop the crime and try to uncover the criminal.
)
Eric is busy talking to a good friend, and a strange friend. The conversation takes odd turns, here, there, enough for his interest to wane and slip. Slouched against the bar on an elbow, drinking soda for sheer strict ID laws, he ends up looking at his phone more than anything, browsing away at local matters. A few moments more, and he wanders for one of the arcade machines in the other rooms. Should make for more fun than he apparently seems to be having out there
Yaay! Another day in Haven, where monsters dwell, not quite so obviously, but quite openly among the streets, mixing in with the people, partaking in their daily lives... and many do not know that the university very much serves its purpose to teach the next generation of monsters. And yes, there is the occasionally annoying and frustrating person to some or another here or there. The business is running, it is growing in the morning hours, so before the peak time of the day, but still where some might choose to come and stop by. The clinking of glasses can be heard, from one of the tables and a handful of the arcades are being occupied, used, played on. The weather outside is just fine, though the freezing cold, of course, lingers and occupies the city whole during the winter. Question is just of the stormclouds outside are announcing snow or hail.
There is a quite attractive woman that is occupying one of the arcades in a red dress, and like so many people during this winter, here in Haven, she is certainly under-dressed with a red gown and black stockings that go up to her middle. The neckline of the dress opens up in a very sensual v-neck shape that certainly exposes a little more of the flesh that stays underneath in the middle. Her hair is brown, long and slightly wavy and blue eyes that look as blue as a sunlit ocean. Whatever she is doing at the arcade - she is certainly losing and it draws frustration to the 9/10 lady. It has her sigh and glance around the room and then - meet and look right into Eric's eyes for a moment. Hers linger and stay, turning very much into a stare that is neither being concealed nor shied away from. Her movement is a very smooth one as she rises from her arcade and begins to approach Eric.
Eric had been a little bored, had found his time at the barcade a little dull. Present company takes his mind off boredom in precious little time, as the well-dressed woman hiding her figure behind no winter garb at all absolutely draws Eric's eyes to her figure, to her presence. He is but a man, a young man, and though she sincerely can't be - nobody ordinary looks quite that good - that entirely isn't where his mind goes once she starts to draw just a little nearer. "Good morning.." He tries to pull off the smooth, the deep sorts of voice. Maybe he even manages. Certainly he's a touch too interested to look aloof, a bit too far below her league to look casual. It just isn't fair, really.
Swaying her hips just ever so slightly, she draws to a stop close to Eric, the blues of her eyes still on Eric as she attempts to reach out and place a hand along his jawline. "Oh..." She starts, her voice sultry and smoky "Oh my-" She makes, looking Eric's very tall figure over before one of her own fingers, clad in an elbow long silk glove, finds her lips. "You would look just right." Her gorgeous blue eyes draw up again, settling onto Eric's own, and he can... feel something. "You would like to help me, don't you?" Oh yes, lust, lust, lust, there is persuasion going on and agreeing to help her must feel far too easy, maybe even too right. "I am quite desperate." She claims, her blues still on Eric's own hazel. The hand moves from her lips and tries to lay onto Eric's chest as she tries to lean in against him. "You would like to help me, right? It will... only be a little favor, handsome."
Eric doesn't know who this stranger is, nor why she's touching him, and still feels entirely too lucky to have her draw near enough for a hand to get placed against his jaw; not even an ounce of suspicion filters into his system. Look just right? Clearly that means he's EXACTLY her type; what else could it be? "Y-yeah?" It takes a moment for his mind to adjust with all the agreement and yielding he feels like doing, jaw slackening a bit with how close she pushes before there's some resolve there: "Yeah- yeah! Of course I would." Duh. He says it almost before she murmurs something about the small favor, two hands lifting on up so they can shape against her waist. "What.. Did. You need- tell me. I'm sure it's okay, I'm totally- absolutely down for it, yeah."
Another light touch, and then a second... and there is a... kiss? Yes, a delicious and proper kiss. And her eyes, yes, her eyes... Eric wants to look into her eyes. She never says what she needs help with, and some of the memories are blurry. It is when he finds himself grow aware again that he is holding a firearm at a well dressed and short man with middle east ethnicity. You WANT to rob him Eric, for your most delicious mistress, you want to bring a lot of money home to her, you want to be hers and serve her and complete helping her. You want her approval, you want her to touch you in appreciation, if only you can satisfy her desire and demand for money.
The man looks terrified at the gun and then up at Eric. Of course, the justifying with imprints is always individual, but the wants are there, and his body feels pain at the mere thought of not doing it. "H-hey we can surely talk about this mister." The man looks Eric over, it is the measuring kind. This is now close to the harbor warehouses, and there is some noise in the distance, too. Screams? Gunfire? Ah but that is far away. Here, it is just this man and Eric. "There is no need for this to become violent, is there, mister, oui?" Oh, yes, the French accent is there. The man is not just dressed into a suit, it is one of those expensive brands, Louis Vuitton, but without looking at the little bit in the neck that says as much, it is difficult to see and know directly. "I am sure we can talk about this." The man tries to de-escalate.
What's a little robbery between a woman and her handsome crush? Just the cost of admission to the unreasonably beautiful Frenchwoman's heart, surely. Eric isn't a veteran criminal, he's certainly not used to sticking up stores. Blessedly, but not for him, the sheer amount of mental addling seems to win out over the nerves he's certainly supposed to feel given this is his first ever robbery. Eric is struck for a moment with never having anticipated getting to this part, or even having anticipated becoming a character in a heist movie at all, but summoning the sorts of things people in such movies might say isn't too tough. "It's- nothing to talk about!" Can't let his brain go into pain. Can't have his mind turn itself over at the thought of failing this woman. The well-dressed man is just an obstacle, a nuisance. "Just pay up! The money- valuables- everything! Pay the FUCK up!" He brandishes that gun in one hand, not as steady as some, not as practiced as some, but quite firm and determined even so. Eric isn't about to bargain when what he wants is very, very clear: to have the woman make out like a bandit, surely.
"Look monsieur," The French man tries, removing a watch that's bound on his wrist "Only item of value I have on me, Oui? Take this watch and let me go, no need for us to escalate on this!" The man shuffles by... there is something that does not quite fit right at his hip... something hard that might tell of risk. It is hidden under the suit blazer he is wearing, of course, which is currently closed and there is no way this man does not have a wallet with money on him somewhere, and it does not take far too much to gleam at it. It does look stuffed, but is the risk worth it? Does Eric even have a choice? For now, the man's movements are slower paced, cautious and careful, but what about when Eric turns his back on him?
There's another wag of that gun. A displeased and aggressive Eric will hear none of it, teeth gritting; sure, sanctuary protects him, keeps Eric from even quite considering pulling the trigger.. But he absolutely gets to be impetuous and aggressive about this robbery of his still. "Come on, do I look STUPID?! Give me your wallet- cards- fucking ANYTHING!!" Surely she'll not settle for a watch. Eric absolutely holds that gun tight as he reaches over, as he snatches it from the other man's hand as best he can, but the frustration is very clear. Is that all? There's gotta be more, and Eric shouts at the foreigner one more time: "NOW! LAST CHANCE, ASSHOLE!"
"No-," It is a very simple word that the man makes to Eric, and the next bit... threatens to come loose apart rather quickly. In fact, the man does reach for the side... his wallet, but it is the hand opposite, on his other side that reaches for it, and it does it after just opening the blazer saying "You can have my fine, oui?" Of course, this would not prove to be true, for what he is reaching for is most definitely not that, but a firearm, a handgun, and he is quick with it. He draws it out, but Eric has a moment still, time, because he is the one that is already holding one and it is latest by the time that he can see the grip pull forward that he knows that the man is reaching!
Eric has had some practice shooting, insofar he's been to the range some and shot at cans. Gotta love that second amendment. Those experiences are much nicer than his current ordeal, where fear immediately joins the various emotions that woman forced upon him and triggers that fight or flight response. As yet, it is fight: he pulls the trigger and aims where nobody's face is going to get blown off, nobody dies at an instant, but very much just shoots the man once he notices the quick attempt at drawing a gun and defending himself, an instinctive shout of "AHHHHH!" even marking the panic at shooting an actual person once things do in fact come down to that
A bullet leaves the barrel of Eric's handgun and flies... and flies and pierces into the man's arm. He, of course, screams out and now there is adrenaline pumping as he still manages to pull his own firearm up. Pain is overwhelmed by the need to survive, that means by the adrenaline and there is a few shots that are fired back... before he starts running, starting to leave a trail of blood with every step. It is only a few that he manages to make, and this man is... even less trained with using it, because no bullets manage to hit from the panicked French man's firing, but it is panicked, and nothing about his shooting is deliberate. If it were to hit, it may really be quite accidental.
"Fucking- IDIOT- piece of shit.." Eric didn't want it to be like this. The entire robbery is unplanned, of course, but even in his brief clarity once the stickup's begun, this is really not how he'd intended things to go. Eric is scratched, at most, by those bullets, and stalks closer to the Frenchman before that fight response from earlier takes hold more- "Fucking IDIOT- BASTARD- just had to PAY and-" every loud word comes with a punch to his face, hard, which just hurts Eric's own hand more too. This stops after a few moments, and he's reminded of what he really wants: to make someone else rich. Obviously. He scowls deeply indeed, and just goes through his pockets. Maybe he's got an expensive car to match the suit. Maybe there really is money in there. Whatever he can find, he just takes, and hightails it out as soon once the looting's properly done and he can just stalk right away again. Hopefully, possibly, in his dreams, the woman will even end up as deeply happy as implied for it all.
Knocking out the man by itself is not as easy as it may seem at first- In the way of natural strength, both Eric and he are on the same territory, but this does not stop Eric from using the butt of his handgun to do it with and the fleeting French man drops and plummets to the ground. Of course he but only needed to pay, but when does someone ever listen to such demands? When does anyone ever? Far too easy to just not do it, because people are said to choose the easy way... but some still do not realize or understand, and he is the that kind of man.
Searching through the man's belongings, there is a wallet that contains a few thousand dollars in bank notes. He is an organ donator, too. The card is there. The French ID in his wallet reads his name as Lothaire Beauchene, has a regular mastercard with the Credit Agricole bank in France. There is a photo of his child-daughter in there, too. Same hair color as him, same eyes and of course an insurance card as well. There is keys to a vehicle, the watch, and of course the latest iphone in one of the jacket pockets. And in addition... a bunch of papers bundled up together about some sort of report on the recent thefts in Haven-city, some slight clue to who is doing what and which gangs are the ones responsible. Evidently, some investigation is actually happening, though how a French citizen is involved in this is a question that can't be answered with him out cold.
There is a group of people that just turns around the corner in the distance. Dockworkers by the brief look, but Eric is already on his way out, departing from the scene.
When he delivers it to her, he finds himself standing in the middle of a basement room, and how delighted she smiles at Eric when he hands it all over to her. The way the delight turns the corners of her lips up makes Eric want to feel happy, some words are a blur, too. But she then there is a moment of awareness that does strike Eric, when the imprints placed were satisfied and this single moment of clarity strikes "... help me more with making more delicious money, Eric." She tells him. The memory of him robbing that man does stay in Eric's mind, and though some are a blur of memory, he is quite aware of what he has done.
It's easy to do evil when your mind is set on it, so much, by someone supernatural and - frankly - greater than you. To ignore guilt and pain and nerves and hesitance with her voice commanding you. The lull in those imprints, the moment spent looking at her wide-eyed again, attracted as before... Yet with his mind his own, Eric blinks at her three times before biting at a lip. "Wh- I don't- aren't you gonna.. Tell me your name? Ff-" He'd assumed he might get a kiss. Maybe watch her throw off the dress. Something. More money, already, after he'd just SHOT someone - something he'd never done? "I just- I just shot that fucking guy, aren't you- I'm just a guy, too. What's this- even- about?" He's been in Haven just-about long enough to piece together some suspicions, and to look not so much at her eyes as at her body, to try and at least not be quite such easy prey, perhaps
Hearing Eric say as much as he does, has her raise a brow at first, and then glance to her body where she... is quite happy to expose more skin. A strap covering her shoulders is touched and pushed and shoved and moved, bringing to bear the full vision of her D-cup sized breasts, and there is a hand that touches over a nipple and then slides along her collar bone, up her neck and then places over her lips. A far too sexy cooing shhh. This however means that she will get a proper look at Eric's eyes again, and with the supernatural, we know what that means: He will be doing more of this very soon.
The basement room itself looks more like a comfortable chamber, meant to be hidden away. There is no one else besides for her and him here. There is a bed with blue blankets, the decor is mostly lamps on the side of the walls, a couple of shelves with various folders, a desk, and a wardrobe that holds a lot of different dresses that would be looking incredible on her. She is standing, though there is a chair and a small table behind and her with an opened book turned upside down to keep it open atop of it. Behind Eric is a well-lit hallways. Not one that is very long, rather short with blue carpeting that also persists in the room itself for flooring. Stairs lead up at the other end, with the doors all opened, if he decides on a route to flee. Though whether there are other people upstairs, or if it is the way that leads directly outside, or into another place he needs to escape, he does not remember for sure. On the thought of there being other people, it sounds right, but so does when he considers that there would be no one. Someone's very clearly muddled with Eric's head, and sadly... today there is no one that would be there to safe him as far as he currently sees... he was... all on his own.
Eric glances left, glances right. He's not all hopeless. He's got more to live for than one impossible beauty, even if she really does seem to very gorgeous, even if her voice does sound so nice. Eric bites at a lip, and bites down harder after a beat, hoping for pain to block out the drive to look at her again. Without warning for her, without looking back, the man does - perhaps wisely - the one thing he can hope to really do, and just bolts. Out the door, up those stairs, AWAY above all. Anything to salvage something of his personhood and not become a pawn any longer, even more, at all, for the woman already stringing him along and no doubt intending to keep up just that if he gets entrapped all properly.
Dashing into the hallway, Eric notices that there are other doors to the right and left, but they are all closed and he can see little in them. The stairs are narrow, slow to climb unless he takes two, maybe even three at a time and there is, of course, a moment where it might hit- is the door upstairs closed? Hands reach for the handle and... it opens up. Ah-ha! Must be such a lucky day! And it leads up into another room. It is a big and spacious space, still underground by the look of it. There is metal poles on stages and tables, private booths, a bar where glasses and bottles lie entirely shattered and some of the ground is covered with a red thick red liquid - blood. Most of it has dried and mended and messed with the red carpet flooring. There are ways up to other VIP area stages, but the way out is quite obvious, central even to another set of stairs that Eric can dash up to. These are far more reasonable to climb than the other ones had been. Another door blocks the way out, and it, too, proves to not be unlocked as they open and make way for Eric to get out into the fresh air. Only even glancing back, there is a sign above the entrance that does state 18+ and there is enough to explain what this place actually is, or rather, was, with the absence of staff: A stripper club. It is where men would usually go for their own enjoyment, and she, most definitely was not one of the working girls. More likely, she was mind controlling her employees, forcing them to do as she wanted and forcing their loyalty, but with how empty it is, perhaps it was one of those recent raids that emptied it out. Or, just maybe, it was just not that time of the day. The sun is still up in the sky, and Eric likely continues to make his away out and away from his place. Down a few alleys, he will find himself out on devilwood street... and free. To his fortune... no one chased him. But she had seen him, and what that means... well, only time will really tell.
After the robbery, Eric, still under the woman's influence, brings the stolen goods to her, expecting some form of intimate reward for his deed. Instead, he finds himself in a basement room, momentarily gaining clarity and realizing the extent of his actions. However, the woman quickly attempts to lure him back into submission, revealing more of her body in an attempt to seduce and control him further. Eric, facing a pivotal moment, decides to flee from the woman's grasp, escaping through a series of hallways and staircases until he finds himself in an abandoned stripper club. Making his way out, he finally reaches the relative safety of Devilwood Street, leaving behind the woman's manipulative clutches. His future remains uncertain, as the woman had seen him leave, posing a potential threat to his newfound freedom.
(Eric's odd encounter(SRRitsuka):SRRitsuka)
[Wed Dec 11 2024]
At The Trove Barcade
This room is dominated by a sprawling, weathered bar. The bar's surface, polished to a high sheen, is inlaid with a mosaic of colorful sea glass, glinting in the dim, lantern-like lighting.
The walls, painted a deep, oceanic blue, are adorned with an eclectic assortment of nautical paraphernalia. Aged maps, and faded flags are interspersed with vintage arcade game marquees. The ceiling, draped with tattered sails and thick, knotted ropes, gives the impression of being below deck on a ship.
In the corners of the room, clusters of arcade games flicker and beep, their colorful screens casting a kaleidoscope of light onto the wooden floorboards. The air is filled with the clatter of pinball machines, the electronic melodies of video games, and the occasional thud of an axe hitting its target.
Behind the bar, a vast array of bottles is displayed, their contents ranging from craft beers to exotic rums. The bartenders, dressed in pirate garb, deftly mix cocktails, their movements punctuated by the clink of glass and the hiss of a freshly opened beer.
North/South: Restrooms
Northeast: Games
East: Axe Throwing
Southeast: Competitive Games
Down: Laser Tag
It is morning, about 19F(-7C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(Your target has been mind controlled by another into acting as their agent in a crime, compelled to perform a robbery or assault for this other agent. It is up to their allies to arrive and stop the crime and try to uncover the criminal.
)
Eric is busy talking to a good friend, and a strange friend. The conversation takes odd turns, here, there, enough for his interest to wane and slip. Slouched against the bar on an elbow, drinking soda for sheer strict ID laws, he ends up looking at his phone more than anything, browsing away at local matters. A few moments more, and he wanders for one of the arcade machines in the other rooms. Should make for more fun than he apparently seems to be having out there
Yaay! Another day in Haven, where monsters dwell, not quite so obviously, but quite openly among the streets, mixing in with the people, partaking in their daily lives... and many do not know that the university very much serves its purpose to teach the next generation of monsters. And yes, there is the occasionally annoying and frustrating person to some or another here or there. The business is running, it is growing in the morning hours, so before the peak time of the day, but still where some might choose to come and stop by. The clinking of glasses can be heard, from one of the tables and a handful of the arcades are being occupied, used, played on. The weather outside is just fine, though the freezing cold, of course, lingers and occupies the city whole during the winter. Question is just of the stormclouds outside are announcing snow or hail.
There is a quite attractive woman that is occupying one of the arcades in a red dress, and like so many people during this winter, here in Haven, she is certainly under-dressed with a red gown and black stockings that go up to her middle. The neckline of the dress opens up in a very sensual v-neck shape that certainly exposes a little more of the flesh that stays underneath in the middle. Her hair is brown, long and slightly wavy and blue eyes that look as blue as a sunlit ocean. Whatever she is doing at the arcade - she is certainly losing and it draws frustration to the 9/10 lady. It has her sigh and glance around the room and then - meet and look right into Eric's eyes for a moment. Hers linger and stay, turning very much into a stare that is neither being concealed nor shied away from. Her movement is a very smooth one as she rises from her arcade and begins to approach Eric.
Eric had been a little bored, had found his time at the barcade a little dull. Present company takes his mind off boredom in precious little time, as the well-dressed woman hiding her figure behind no winter garb at all absolutely draws Eric's eyes to her figure, to her presence. He is but a man, a young man, and though she sincerely can't be - nobody ordinary looks quite that good - that entirely isn't where his mind goes once she starts to draw just a little nearer. "Good morning.." He tries to pull off the smooth, the deep sorts of voice. Maybe he even manages. Certainly he's a touch too interested to look aloof, a bit too far below her league to look casual. It just isn't fair, really.
Swaying her hips just ever so slightly, she draws to a stop close to Eric, the blues of her eyes still on Eric as she attempts to reach out and place a hand along his jawline. "Oh..." She starts, her voice sultry and smoky "Oh my-" She makes, looking Eric's very tall figure over before one of her own fingers, clad in an elbow long silk glove, finds her lips. "You would look just right." Her gorgeous blue eyes draw up again, settling onto Eric's own, and he can... feel something. "You would like to help me, don't you?" Oh yes, lust, lust, lust, there is persuasion going on and agreeing to help her must feel far too easy, maybe even too right. "I am quite desperate." She claims, her blues still on Eric's own hazel. The hand moves from her lips and tries to lay onto Eric's chest as she tries to lean in against him. "You would like to help me, right? It will... only be a little favor, handsome."
Eric doesn't know who this stranger is, nor why she's touching him, and still feels entirely too lucky to have her draw near enough for a hand to get placed against his jaw; not even an ounce of suspicion filters into his system. Look just right? Clearly that means he's EXACTLY her type; what else could it be? "Y-yeah?" It takes a moment for his mind to adjust with all the agreement and yielding he feels like doing, jaw slackening a bit with how close she pushes before there's some resolve there: "Yeah- yeah! Of course I would." Duh. He says it almost before she murmurs something about the small favor, two hands lifting on up so they can shape against her waist. "What.. Did. You need- tell me. I'm sure it's okay, I'm totally- absolutely down for it, yeah."
Another light touch, and then a second... and there is a... kiss? Yes, a delicious and proper kiss. And her eyes, yes, her eyes... Eric wants to look into her eyes. She never says what she needs help with, and some of the memories are blurry. It is when he finds himself grow aware again that he is holding a firearm at a well dressed and short man with middle east ethnicity. You WANT to rob him Eric, for your most delicious mistress, you want to bring a lot of money home to her, you want to be hers and serve her and complete helping her. You want her approval, you want her to touch you in appreciation, if only you can satisfy her desire and demand for money.
The man looks terrified at the gun and then up at Eric. Of course, the justifying with imprints is always individual, but the wants are there, and his body feels pain at the mere thought of not doing it. "H-hey we can surely talk about this mister." The man looks Eric over, it is the measuring kind. This is now close to the harbor warehouses, and there is some noise in the distance, too. Screams? Gunfire? Ah but that is far away. Here, it is just this man and Eric. "There is no need for this to become violent, is there, mister, oui?" Oh, yes, the French accent is there. The man is not just dressed into a suit, it is one of those expensive brands, Louis Vuitton, but without looking at the little bit in the neck that says as much, it is difficult to see and know directly. "I am sure we can talk about this." The man tries to de-escalate.
What's a little robbery between a woman and her handsome crush? Just the cost of admission to the unreasonably beautiful Frenchwoman's heart, surely. Eric isn't a veteran criminal, he's certainly not used to sticking up stores. Blessedly, but not for him, the sheer amount of mental addling seems to win out over the nerves he's certainly supposed to feel given this is his first ever robbery. Eric is struck for a moment with never having anticipated getting to this part, or even having anticipated becoming a character in a heist movie at all, but summoning the sorts of things people in such movies might say isn't too tough. "It's- nothing to talk about!" Can't let his brain go into pain. Can't have his mind turn itself over at the thought of failing this woman. The well-dressed man is just an obstacle, a nuisance. "Just pay up! The money- valuables- everything! Pay the FUCK up!" He brandishes that gun in one hand, not as steady as some, not as practiced as some, but quite firm and determined even so. Eric isn't about to bargain when what he wants is very, very clear: to have the woman make out like a bandit, surely.
"Look monsieur," The French man tries, removing a watch that's bound on his wrist "Only item of value I have on me, Oui? Take this watch and let me go, no need for us to escalate on this!" The man shuffles by... there is something that does not quite fit right at his hip... something hard that might tell of risk. It is hidden under the suit blazer he is wearing, of course, which is currently closed and there is no way this man does not have a wallet with money on him somewhere, and it does not take far too much to gleam at it. It does look stuffed, but is the risk worth it? Does Eric even have a choice? For now, the man's movements are slower paced, cautious and careful, but what about when Eric turns his back on him?
There's another wag of that gun. A displeased and aggressive Eric will hear none of it, teeth gritting; sure, sanctuary protects him, keeps Eric from even quite considering pulling the trigger.. But he absolutely gets to be impetuous and aggressive about this robbery of his still. "Come on, do I look STUPID?! Give me your wallet- cards- fucking ANYTHING!!" Surely she'll not settle for a watch. Eric absolutely holds that gun tight as he reaches over, as he snatches it from the other man's hand as best he can, but the frustration is very clear. Is that all? There's gotta be more, and Eric shouts at the foreigner one more time: "NOW! LAST CHANCE, ASSHOLE!"
"No-," It is a very simple word that the man makes to Eric, and the next bit... threatens to come loose apart rather quickly. In fact, the man does reach for the side... his wallet, but it is the hand opposite, on his other side that reaches for it, and it does it after just opening the blazer saying "You can have my fine, oui?" Of course, this would not prove to be true, for what he is reaching for is most definitely not that, but a firearm, a handgun, and he is quick with it. He draws it out, but Eric has a moment still, time, because he is the one that is already holding one and it is latest by the time that he can see the grip pull forward that he knows that the man is reaching!
Eric has had some practice shooting, insofar he's been to the range some and shot at cans. Gotta love that second amendment. Those experiences are much nicer than his current ordeal, where fear immediately joins the various emotions that woman forced upon him and triggers that fight or flight response. As yet, it is fight: he pulls the trigger and aims where nobody's face is going to get blown off, nobody dies at an instant, but very much just shoots the man once he notices the quick attempt at drawing a gun and defending himself, an instinctive shout of "AHHHHH!" even marking the panic at shooting an actual person once things do in fact come down to that
A bullet leaves the barrel of Eric's handgun and flies... and flies and pierces into the man's arm. He, of course, screams out and now there is adrenaline pumping as he still manages to pull his own firearm up. Pain is overwhelmed by the need to survive, that means by the adrenaline and there is a few shots that are fired back... before he starts running, starting to leave a trail of blood with every step. It is only a few that he manages to make, and this man is... even less trained with using it, because no bullets manage to hit from the panicked French man's firing, but it is panicked, and nothing about his shooting is deliberate. If it were to hit, it may really be quite accidental.
"Fucking- IDIOT- piece of shit.." Eric didn't want it to be like this. The entire robbery is unplanned, of course, but even in his brief clarity once the stickup's begun, this is really not how he'd intended things to go. Eric is scratched, at most, by those bullets, and stalks closer to the Frenchman before that fight response from earlier takes hold more- "Fucking IDIOT- BASTARD- just had to PAY and-" every loud word comes with a punch to his face, hard, which just hurts Eric's own hand more too. This stops after a few moments, and he's reminded of what he really wants: to make someone else rich. Obviously. He scowls deeply indeed, and just goes through his pockets. Maybe he's got an expensive car to match the suit. Maybe there really is money in there. Whatever he can find, he just takes, and hightails it out as soon once the looting's properly done and he can just stalk right away again. Hopefully, possibly, in his dreams, the woman will even end up as deeply happy as implied for it all.
Knocking out the man by itself is not as easy as it may seem at first- In the way of natural strength, both Eric and he are on the same territory, but this does not stop Eric from using the butt of his handgun to do it with and the fleeting French man drops and plummets to the ground. Of course he but only needed to pay, but when does someone ever listen to such demands? When does anyone ever? Far too easy to just not do it, because people are said to choose the easy way... but some still do not realize or understand, and he is the that kind of man.
Searching through the man's belongings, there is a wallet that contains a few thousand dollars in bank notes. He is an organ donator, too. The card is there. The French ID in his wallet reads his name as Lothaire Beauchene, has a regular mastercard with the Credit Agricole bank in France. There is a photo of his child-daughter in there, too. Same hair color as him, same eyes and of course an insurance card as well. There is keys to a vehicle, the watch, and of course the latest iphone in one of the jacket pockets. And in addition... a bunch of papers bundled up together about some sort of report on the recent thefts in Haven-city, some slight clue to who is doing what and which gangs are the ones responsible. Evidently, some investigation is actually happening, though how a French citizen is involved in this is a question that can't be answered with him out cold.
There is a group of people that just turns around the corner in the distance. Dockworkers by the brief look, but Eric is already on his way out, departing from the scene.
When he delivers it to her, he finds himself standing in the middle of a basement room, and how delighted she smiles at Eric when he hands it all over to her. The way the delight turns the corners of her lips up makes Eric want to feel happy, some words are a blur, too. But she then there is a moment of awareness that does strike Eric, when the imprints placed were satisfied and this single moment of clarity strikes "... help me more with making more delicious money, Eric." She tells him. The memory of him robbing that man does stay in Eric's mind, and though some are a blur of memory, he is quite aware of what he has done.
It's easy to do evil when your mind is set on it, so much, by someone supernatural and - frankly - greater than you. To ignore guilt and pain and nerves and hesitance with her voice commanding you. The lull in those imprints, the moment spent looking at her wide-eyed again, attracted as before... Yet with his mind his own, Eric blinks at her three times before biting at a lip. "Wh- I don't- aren't you gonna.. Tell me your name? Ff-" He'd assumed he might get a kiss. Maybe watch her throw off the dress. Something. More money, already, after he'd just SHOT someone - something he'd never done? "I just- I just shot that fucking guy, aren't you- I'm just a guy, too. What's this- even- about?" He's been in Haven just-about long enough to piece together some suspicions, and to look not so much at her eyes as at her body, to try and at least not be quite such easy prey, perhaps
Hearing Eric say as much as he does, has her raise a brow at first, and then glance to her body where she... is quite happy to expose more skin. A strap covering her shoulders is touched and pushed and shoved and moved, bringing to bear the full vision of her D-cup sized breasts, and there is a hand that touches over a nipple and then slides along her collar bone, up her neck and then places over her lips. A far too sexy cooing shhh. This however means that she will get a proper look at Eric's eyes again, and with the supernatural, we know what that means: He will be doing more of this very soon.
The basement room itself looks more like a comfortable chamber, meant to be hidden away. There is no one else besides for her and him here. There is a bed with blue blankets, the decor is mostly lamps on the side of the walls, a couple of shelves with various folders, a desk, and a wardrobe that holds a lot of different dresses that would be looking incredible on her. She is standing, though there is a chair and a small table behind and her with an opened book turned upside down to keep it open atop of it. Behind Eric is a well-lit hallways. Not one that is very long, rather short with blue carpeting that also persists in the room itself for flooring. Stairs lead up at the other end, with the doors all opened, if he decides on a route to flee. Though whether there are other people upstairs, or if it is the way that leads directly outside, or into another place he needs to escape, he does not remember for sure. On the thought of there being other people, it sounds right, but so does when he considers that there would be no one. Someone's very clearly muddled with Eric's head, and sadly... today there is no one that would be there to safe him as far as he currently sees... he was... all on his own.
Eric glances left, glances right. He's not all hopeless. He's got more to live for than one impossible beauty, even if she really does seem to very gorgeous, even if her voice does sound so nice. Eric bites at a lip, and bites down harder after a beat, hoping for pain to block out the drive to look at her again. Without warning for her, without looking back, the man does - perhaps wisely - the one thing he can hope to really do, and just bolts. Out the door, up those stairs, AWAY above all. Anything to salvage something of his personhood and not become a pawn any longer, even more, at all, for the woman already stringing him along and no doubt intending to keep up just that if he gets entrapped all properly.
Dashing into the hallway, Eric notices that there are other doors to the right and left, but they are all closed and he can see little in them. The stairs are narrow, slow to climb unless he takes two, maybe even three at a time and there is, of course, a moment where it might hit- is the door upstairs closed? Hands reach for the handle and... it opens up. Ah-ha! Must be such a lucky day! And it leads up into another room. It is a big and spacious space, still underground by the look of it. There is metal poles on stages and tables, private booths, a bar where glasses and bottles lie entirely shattered and some of the ground is covered with a red thick red liquid - blood. Most of it has dried and mended and messed with the red carpet flooring. There are ways up to other VIP area stages, but the way out is quite obvious, central even to another set of stairs that Eric can dash up to. These are far more reasonable to climb than the other ones had been. Another door blocks the way out, and it, too, proves to not be unlocked as they open and make way for Eric to get out into the fresh air. Only even glancing back, there is a sign above the entrance that does state 18+ and there is enough to explain what this place actually is, or rather, was, with the absence of staff: A stripper club. It is where men would usually go for their own enjoyment, and she, most definitely was not one of the working girls. More likely, she was mind controlling her employees, forcing them to do as she wanted and forcing their loyalty, but with how empty it is, perhaps it was one of those recent raids that emptied it out. Or, just maybe, it was just not that time of the day. The sun is still up in the sky, and Eric likely continues to make his away out and away from his place. Down a few alleys, he will find himself out on devilwood street... and free. To his fortune... no one chased him. But she had seen him, and what that means... well, only time will really tell.