16621/California Dreaming

California Dreaming
Date of Scene:	18 November 2024
Location:	A studio in California
Synopsis:	It's anything but business as usual at a studio situated in California. Overzealousproducers, sniper scopes, and trash tornadoes. Oh My!
Cast of Characters:	Phantasm (Drago), Sinister, Lucifer

---

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
While New York has it all. It appears that California does as well. They each have it all, but in varying styles. And that's also the case with interview shows.

Unfortunately, today the one that booked Nick Drago today is situated in California which has led to a long flight, time zones, a bit of jet lag, and a somewhat tired Nick by the end of the filming session.

The studio heads had been accommodating enough. There weren't any other shows left to film so that green room he was granted was his until it was time to go. But it also meant Nick was a bit cranky when Wade knocked on the door to wake him to make their way to the hired car. But move they go, heading down the hallway leading to a side exit.

Just another average day. Right?

Sinister has posed:
One day, like any other. A Sunday night filming.

At a studio.
In California.
Probably L.A.

Why would it be Frisco? It's probably not San Francisco -- where and why the wicked Doctor? Film studios in Los Angeles aren't his usual hangout. That's far more his partner's speed, but he does occasionally show up at them for a reason. He's not obviously around though. Because: why?

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Why is indeed a question one would think if someone with a knowledge of Dr. Essex were proposed that possibility. Why on EARTH would he wander over to the glitz and glam of publicly broadcasted talk shows? Sure. The host's tendency to use a litter of puppies in puppy jerseys to pick the winner of the next major sporting event people are looking forward to can be a bit of a pull but it's too soon for the Super Bowl or playoffs.

No. There'd have to be something more compelling.

...

Oh well.

"Ok. So we got the rest of today for you to get some rest." Wade comments, walking along the groggy Nick, "And I really suggest you do that instead of any ...extracurriculars."

Tired eyes look up to the slightly taller former bassist turned manager. "...Not my intention to do anything but. What's call time?"

Wade glances to his phone, thumbing through it. "...Sound check's at two pm, hotel time tomorrow. Then you'll have some down time before your set at nine."

Wade turns, backing into the lever to push open the side door to let the duo out.

No sooner than the pair come outside, a voice speaks up from outside in greeting, "Mr. Drago!" Wade and Nick turn, looking over to a man wearing an overly expensive suit and a likely, just as expensive set of straightened teeth. "What a pleasant surprise!" Hands spread apart, palms upwards as he walks over. As he gets closer, the hands come together. "May I walk with you two for a bit? I've got a few more projects I would love to talk to you about that you'd be just PERFECT for."

Nick and Wade glance to each other before, Nick nods, "Just for a little bit, Mr. Hyde. I'm somewhat running on fumes a bit."

And so two becomes three, treking down the side of the building to where vehicles of various types are situated. Mostly cars. There is an ambulance there as well but it is apparently not actually running a call right now. As for the persons who would be hanging out around said vehicle, they're not inside but instead standing nearby, talking with cups of some drink of likely hot status.

There are a few people around come to think of it, not all gathered together, but it's just peaceful. Not a concerning thought about the area.

Save for the one a little further away whose brain is processing the view through a sight scope.

Sinister has posed:
So why IS Doctor Essex around? He exits from one of the many doors that lead to sound stages and studios, where golf carts ferry people around, his eyes down on a thin stack of papers that equates to a plot synopsis.

He makes money you know. You don't end up being a multi-billionaire several times over, without knowing a thing or two about how to make it and to let it make itself. But occasionally, you invest into things that may or may not have some fruit of the kind you -like- to indulge in, at a later date. "God above this is drivel. But they're right, it's going to sell to all the popcorn eating crowds..." it's muttered to himself. He's still tall, still handsome in that classical sort of way, but doesn't look a SCRAP like himself.

This is the better for being able to conduct business and not cause the transient passing of himself and the Nick contingent, to be something notable or interrupted.

Except there's a tingle, a little niggle and he does look up, slanting up and to the height that he can feel. He stares. And it means that he's bumped into by a coffee-runner who immediately goes into a panic, when coffee goes all over the designer T-shirt he's wearing.

That fuss is going to be a minor distraction, for sure.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"Oh you must've gotten in from New York today then." Hyde surmises from the response, "Well, in that case my dear Drago, would it be good to have you and Mr. Shaw here swing by residence tomorrow or the next day for a little chat? Or perhaps in lieu of the hotel you two could stay at my place as my guests. As you've seen, my property could probably shame any hotel in this area. And you would not want for privacy from the other guests then."

Wade's lip twitches before he smiles, shaking his head. "Perhaps you should speak with me, Jacob. While we do appreciate you bringing his name up for the current movie, I'm afraid, Mr. Drago is quite busy tomorrow with things that can not be rescheduled. The day after may be a bit more flexible. You do still have my number, right?"

If it's drama Sinister wanted to start, it's drama Sinister gets from the coffee-runner. "Oh my- MY SUPREME SHIRT!" There's a shrill cry of despair, likely not comfortable for those of sensitive hearing. "This was a gift. I'm not going to be able to get one like this again! I-"

The coffee-runner hiccups. Before bringing up his hands, balling them into fists. "Oooh Ok Keith... Just breathe... Bad thoughts out... Good air in... Happy thoughts happy thoughts... Squirrels."

As the drama comes out, the visual of the scope shifts, from Jacob, to Wade, to Nick and then blurrrr, coffee boy and -

There's a thought that accompanies the visual. A word that more or less describes the general situation one finds this situation.

.oO(Shit)

The visual of the scope fades to one more of the rooftop, quickly grabbing a bag and moving away.

Sinister has posed:
"Well, could've been worse, you could've ruined -my- shirt," Sinister informs, looking down from the height to the panicked person, then away again. "Don't pat it, put baking soda on, wash. It will come out..." or it will be ruined and/or requiring dry cleaning et al.

He stares at the roof. "Excuse me," and there's not a power in the world that the poor runner could exert that would stop him. There might be an effort. Maybe not.

Nick, Shaw and this Jacob fellow receive an intense-eyed stare as he passes them by, which might leave a question or two, before he simply finds a spot to sit, stare into nowhere and the script infront of himself, as if it were a newspaper -- but this is because his mind is elsewhere, following as a tickle in the back of a pigeon's brain, or a rat, or a squirrel that's hopping across to the next roof. Just look that way, thank you.

Animal brains are not good, they don't see with intelligence. But there we go, someone watching the roof access here. And there. And there. And tracking. We're just watching you, mister. Or missus.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
To the mention of Sinister's own shirt being ruined, whatever mantra the newly identified Keith had been using fails spectacularly. Dinner plate eyes fixate upon the disguised doctor , scanning the attire for any indication of a stain. If he couldn't afford to replace his own shirt, what makes hime think he could afford to lose his job?

"Oh! It's very good that didn't happen. I did-"

Whatever Keith was going to say is left a mystery as he instead watches Sinister walk off. Instead the runner is left to contemplate the advice consisting of the usage of baking soda.

Unaware of the going ons from above, the trio of entertainment persons continue on their trek towards the parking area. Wade has successfully herded Hyde's attention over his way leaving Nick to look where they're going. The unfamiliar man staring at them causes for Nick to turn his head as Sinister passes. But as nothing was said or done towards them, Nick's momentum continues towards the parking area.

As for Sinister's current person of focus, he seems intent to move in the opposite direction. Upon rooftop, making a quick leap down to a nearby one. Finding a spot that is blind to anyone upon the ground, the man takes pause to put the gun back into the bag.

As for appearances,but the hair and facial features are hard to pick out as it appears this man has also been spending his days at the local goodwill. The hoodie and sunglasses are doing a good job of hiding the facial features. But the figure itself betrays a male form. Likely of peak condition and with the stride, some training is likely involved. Despite being aware of someone spotting him on the other roof, his composure is a bit relaxed as he zips up the bag and continues moving forward.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's eyes close. Poor Keith. He can unwind his frazzled nerves on his own time, bumbling into the next mad gofer dash and going back to reclaim the coffee that was lost to the fates of walking smack into Sin.

The doctor frowns though, his disguise fraying a bit on the edges for one reason or another, as the hint of the red glow in his eyes escapes beneath his lashes. "Oh, dear, not now..." -- red goes gold, momentarily. A flash of it.

Oddly, that will send a rather localized beacon to everything Above and Below. What was that? A blip on the radar?

A subtle suggestion gets sent to the one that seems least inclined to having a hard mind; mister Hyde. It's the sun you see, stick to the shade, overhanging cover, all those crow's feet are horrible to get treated and god alone knows that there's enough plastic faced filler-junkies haunting Hollywood already, with their duck lips and inability to do an expression other than gawmless. Stick to the shade. Just until the car. Under awnings.

And then, to concentrate on the mind on the roof, packing up the bag. It's damn hot, right? Just take down the hood. Flick it back. Flick it back. Flick it back. Flick it...

"NNnnnnnng," Sin grips the bench he sat on.

Lucifer has posed:
Winds in the East. Mist coming in. Like something is brewing. About to begin....

Wait. That's the wrong intro.

But something -does- seem to come rushing over the rooftop enough that Mister Gun-Packer's hood not only comes off his head, but his entire hoodie seems to slip entirely off his body! There's nothing there to have done it though... so how could this be?!

Awnings. Shade. Anywhere other than out in the open. Also, Mister Hyde, you need to do something else for a little while and listen to Wade who's just trying to get Nick to the car so the man can go to his hotel and SLEEP.

Then, suddenly, there's a figure sitting next to Doctor Essex. He's about six feet, three inches tall. Messy black hair. Smells like Sulphur and Sex. Not sure who it is -exactly- though...

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
The subtle touch to Hyde's mind goes unnoticed as Jacob's steps do the general redirecting of the trio a few steps over to the covered walkway. "I understand New York can get hot but I doubt they hold a candle to the California heat." Jacob comments idly.

Nick gives Jacob a curious look before glancing to Wade. As the trek seems to hug closer to the buildings as the producer shows an EXTREME fondness for such a path, the general confusion stemming from the man's behavior does tick upon Nick's mind before the general mental reminder that normal behavior is not all that common in the entertainment industry.

Up to the rooftop, a gust blows off the hood, revealing a face that one might expect in an action film. Hair cut tight. What concentration that makes it visible indicates it to be a dark blonde, bordering upon brown. An actor maybe?

No. The narrowed eyes seem a bit too real to be someone who just pretends.

A lip curls as a hand lifts up to tug the hood back on only to find the entire thing not on him.

How in the hell?

Muttering a curse the man moves over to quickly grab at the hoodie before continuing on his retreat to get off the roof. If he hadn't had the feeling before it's quite apparent that now isn't the time to act.

Sinister has posed:
Don't lose your grip, boy. You have things you have to do, to examine this situation.

But the ringing in my ears sounds like the most harmoniously dischordant cacophany of tinnitus I've ever heard. How can you cope...

Zooming over the roof, a flit and a shadow, the figure of brimstone and sex gets one eye cracked open to stare at him -- gold glowing from the eyeball instead of red -- "...L'..." he gets that out, before well... for everyone in a fifty foot radius of him, gravity is optional.

ANd then it's definitely problematic, as literally EVERYTHING that isn't nailed down starts doing a telekinetic dance. This may include guns and a would-be assassin.

Everything that is, except the bench Sin is sitting on with Lucifer, the Morningstar with his hair wild and his natural fragrance reminding everyone of what brothels and match-light smelled like once upon a time.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer reaches into his pocket and pulls out his silver tin etched with snake and raven. He pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and settles back on the bench next to Doctor Essex. There are no words. Just a scrambling would-be assassin. And three people heading towards a car.

Oh wait. Stuff begins to fly. That's new. Interesting and new. He side eyes his lover for a moment and then looks back to the storm that's brewing.

Like something is brewing... about to begin... can't put me finger... on what lies in store... but I feel what's to happen... has all happened before.

It's all good, Mary Poppins. Do your thing. This is going to be BRILLIANT.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Everything within a fifty feet radius of Sinister doesn't seem like much when you consider they're outside. Other than b-

Dear lord.

Just a ways down the path there's a startled sound as someone on another bench ends up on a ride they were not planning. But as the bench swoops around, the only indication of the person upon it are the arms locking on to the arm rest of said bench.

The screams coming from the bench are likely the best indicator of the troubled times.

Keith, in all fairness does turn to the sound of distress, only to find the contents of the trashcan situated near the bench being emptied out and spiraling towards him. A shrill cry is let out as his Supreme shirt is introduced to new stains that will certainly test the baking soda advice given earlier.

With all of the ruckus, the trio that had been nearing the car ends up stopping, turning to look to the source of the chaos.

Wade looks quietly over to Nick, brows lifting as he nods to the scene going on. Nick shakes his head side to side in response.

As for Hyde...

"What on e-" He starts to step towards the chaos.

And while ALL of that is going on amongst those nearby, the man climbing down a ladder ends up finding himself a little hindered as the strap of his gun bag slings to the right, nearly throwing him off the ladder with the momentum. Honed reflexes kick in, grasping the bars tighter, forcing his way down.

As for the lost hoodie it goes flying out of reach. Seemingly caught up in the turbulent scene going on around Sinister's bench.

Upon feet hitting the ground, the gunman runs off, seemingly knowing just where to go to avoid prying eyes.

Yes. Today will not be the day.

Sinister has posed:
Oh the entertainment is real and rife. Look at all the mortals trying to figure out what in the name of kittens is going on. Trash spirals, eddies of telekinetic wind becoming cyclones of it and widening -- fifty foot becomes seventy five and is rapidly expanding out to a hundred foot radius -- golf carts are picked up, going for a lovely round-about, topsy turvey tumble. All the chairs and clacker boards.

A bike chained and right at the end of its tether. All the papers. All the leaves. And the people, too.

As the storm intensifies, what's kind of hysterical is how the man with his cigarette case is fully capable of lighting a cigarette in the eye of the storm. The eye cracked open winces and watches was the other squints harder shut. There's a couple of veins popped in the doctor's temples, too. And then? A golden bolt of force shoots from that eye and impacts hard into one of the nearby walls, knocking off an exit sign and causing it to explode. Car alarms are going off.

"Bollocks... this isn't going to stop..." -- there's a grunt, a growl at himself as he reaches a hand to his forehead and presses his thumb there against his third eye.

As soon as it'd started, the whole thing stops. Everything rains down, clatters to the floor again and every gift Sin has, stops working. Telekinesis /and/ metamorphing as colour drains away and all that makes him rather obvious, pops right into existence right in the midst of the chaos in Hollywood backlot studios.

Lucifer has posed:
"Aww. And it was JUST getting to the good part..." Lucifer pines before his eyes drift to the would-be gunman who likely feels relief from not being almost suddenly lifted off the stairwell. There's a problem here, however. The gunman has gone from having a target...

...to being one.

"Hold this..." Lucifer says to Sinister, holding out the cigarette after the man all but transforms into his actual self. Which doesn't even phase the Devil at all, because why would it. "I have someone we'll want to interrogate to catch..." This is all he says before he's off. Cigarette hanging in the air. All cartoon style floaty but not falling.

Yet.

It's a one-two trick that will leave Hollywood in the dust for the special effects could never hold a candle to what the Devil can do. One. Two. Snatcharoo! By the backpack or the collar of his shirt, Lucifer will nab the would-be gunman and then in the blink of an eye is back and sitting beside Sinister again. Man underneath his foot. His very heavy foot.

"Try to run and find out what happens." He says then looks to Sinister. "Shall we?"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
The taste of escape was so tantalizingly close for the gunman. But, with the sudden appearance of the devil jerking him back, that taste goes away with an audible HURK of surprise coupled with the Oof of rough landing.

To the man's credit, he does not move as Lucifer presses his foot against his back. Well, there's a slight movement early on but upon determining the inability to get up. He stills. Not so much as a peep comes out of him.

As the floating bench comes in for a landing, the lonely rider ends up getting jarred off of their seat, landing upon the ground. Eyes widen as the view of falling trash comes into view, but fortunately for them, they are spared the extra insult to injury. So is Keith. The poor runner has experienced enough.

Over by the ambulance, a pair of medics look over to the chaotic scene but make no move towards it. The most they do is look at each person from a safe distance. With one medic there's a lingering pause to look to the man being pinned to the ground before looking to the one doing the pinning. The one that had very MUCH displayed some sort of power in the first place.

Jacob's approach to the scene ends up aborted as he ends up with a sampling of the trash's contents landing on him. It's uncertain WHAT it is, but it is very much clear to Hyde that someone had eaten something fermented and tossed the rest in the trash. And now he's wearing it. "...Fuck."

Despite Wade's efforts to get Nick to the car, the general sideshow did merit watching. Once Sinister becomes clearly Sinister, Wade ends up with an additional challenge as Nick starts walking towards the telepath. Although one could argue that Sin most likely has things under control, there's an underlining concern for the doctor drawing the musician over.

Cutting his losses, Wade lets Nick head over, turning his attention to possibly talking Hyde into just going home without having that talk.

Sinister has posed:
To say that Sinister has things in hand, is probably generous at this point. With a kind of flat affect as the pain and noise goes away from inside his mind, there's simple stillness as the devil goes to work. It is a phenomenon to view how swiftly transportation can be done when born on the power of Angel wings...

He stares down at the gunman, glancing around at the scene of absolute mess and at the various onlookers. There's a sigh for a moment. "I'm alright really, I had a moment of... hearing the universe is what it felt like..." he mutters mostly to Lucifer, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath.

Localized panic and confusion will very softly and sensationally return to a sense of normality -- minor dust devil touched down, there was a bit of a pick-up and isn't it amazing nobody was hurt? Better check for some cuts ands scrapes, but that was definitely not an empowered action.

And one by one, security cameras start doing a little tango side to side, then train themselves back to where they should be.

He looks up to the approach of Nick, squinting a little against the glare as colour returns to his cheeks and certain 'obvious' features fade away to leaving him looking human again. More or less.

There's a gesture at the gunman. "He was scoping you with a long-range rifle."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer gives Sinister a sort of looooong stare as he declares he's alright. Some part of him doesn't believe the doctor - at least not until he seems to be going back to his normal coloring. Then, everything else seems to take shape around Lucifer. The few stares they're getting. The people who are coming out of their 'what the fuck' moments in their heads and entering reality again.

Then there's an approaching Nick and Lucifer tilts his head some. "I thought you were leaving. You were heading the opposite direction with Wade and some dude who looked like a charity version of Hugh Heffner..." He offers this and then looks down at his feet. "Aww, Nathaniel... you ruined the surprise... now we're going to have to really make this man suffer to get him to talk. I mean, we're talking old world torture here..."

Cigarette plucked from the sky as he takes another drag off it.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
It is indeed amazing that no one was hurt by the sinister storm. Physically at least. With the general mess and the startled reactions. Most of those in the area seem a little preoccupied with making their way indoors. Likely for most, to find a place to go clean up. Even Jacob...After a slight prod from Wade, makes his way indoors.

The medics who had been staring at the scene earlier follow in after the others, leaving it to just the five on the green.

Well, Wade opts to sit at a bench, giving Nick the space he needs to talk with now now human mode Sinister.

To the gesture down, pale eyes look down to the unmoving figure pinned by Lucifer's foot, a brow raising as he takes in the fit figure. A sinking feeling starts to wash over him as the general implication.

Why? They've been quiet for over a year. They didn't find any more information on him when they raided the one location. Or did his name end up added to the list Thomas warned him about?

As Lucifer mentions Nick leaving, he looks over to the distant relative. "Well, I was but with that storm and him switching back to a form I recognized- I got a little worried." Nick looks to Sinister, "Are you alright? That seemed like a lot more than what you'd normally do for such a thing."

The trapped man being talked about is being INCREDIBLY accommodating. Not a peep or move out of him.

Not a peep.

Sinister has posed:
"I'm fine now -- I shall analyze it all later and try and work out what the hell was happening." Sinister replies, watching with some caution as the individuals in the crowd make their way indoors to freshen up and double check their general integrity. Good. That worked.

He sags back in the seat slightly, smiling rather grimly as the impact of Lucifer's words sink in. He glances sidelong to Wade, then back to the figure on the ground. A very slow, deep breath is taken, the cigarette smoke from Lucifer's coughin'-nail drifting in a slow eddy just infront of him. It prompts him to reach for the tin that was offered and to select one of his own to drag on with hollowed-in cheeks. He exhales dragon style through his nose.

"He's rather innured of that kind of tactic, I suspect. Professional though -- a face man. Actions speak considerably louder." There's a high snicker though. "Charity Hugh Hefner..."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer just huffs a little. "And here I thought I could bring out the scorpions and cobras..." He offers with a little smirk. "Oh wait. You mean I get to mess up his pretty face until he starts talking? I can handle that..."

Nick gets a look and then a smile. "Your worry is appreciated." Even if Lucifer appears to be unmoved by the happenings that just occurred, inside he's worried sick. It may take a telepath to understand the level of his concern however.

The man beneath his boot is being quiet. TOO quiet. "Now now. I hope you didn't take a cyanide pill or something after I grabbed you. Come on, man..." He digs his foot a little more into the man's back. "Make a noise!"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"Ok. So long as you're fine now." Nick nods, accepting Sinister's response. There's only so much Nick could really do if it wasn't the case. And being a full angel is already present, what he could do is probably not necessary.

As the heavy foot digs in deeper into the back, the man shifts. However that movement could likely be attributed entirely to Lucifer's efforts. There's a slight shift to the head, giving the slightest glimpse of the man's lips, and a hint of a froth.

Nick's eyes set upon the mouth. Eyes widening.

Shit.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Where's Wade?

Head glancing up, Nick turns his head, looking back to where he came from, scanning the scenery before setting eyes upon Wade sitting upon the bench.

In the open. Not good.

"I should go." Nick states, looking to Sinister and Lucifer. "Sorry."

Sinister has posed:
"Ohhh, bollocks..." Nick's being ignored. That slight sight of the froth and the returning of his heightened senses tell Sinister a good deal. The doctor grimaces, sliding rather suddenly from his seat to kneel beside the man under Lucifer's heel, hand going into the pocket of his coat with a flash of light and a smell of ozone. Pulling free of the pocket, a wrist unit is clipped onto his left hand -- it rapidly unfolds five 'finger claws' via nanotechnological mystery and a spike drives into the arterial junction of the doctor's wrist, fixing firm to the skin.

He's then clamping that hand over the gunman's jugular vein, grimacing fleetingly as whatever is happening... happens.

Suffice to say that Cyanide won't do the job. At least not today, when one's metabolism has been hijacked by Alpha class regeneration.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer relinquishes his foot hold and looks down at the man. "Sucking all the fun out of the job..." Though the fact that Nick just sort of hauled ass again has Lucifer concerned for a moment. He then watches Sinister do Sinister-ly things and just sits there finishing his cigarette as things happen. "I suppose now it's whisk you and him back to the Penthouse and put him in the lab so you can continue saving his life?" Which, with that being the likely case, is precisely what happens. Cause, you know, they can travel like that.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick does indeed haul ass. And he haul's Wade's ass as well away from the scene with a quick glance back to the couple, the body, and then cautiously the area around him. Well, it looks like Nick will get to go to the hotel after all.

As for the gunman, there's very little resistance being given as Sinister does his work to try and revive the man. But even that will likely take time. Which allows the couple plenty of time to figure out where to put the bod- err...suspect.