Standing Still (Open.)

[Odion Martins]

After all the drama that’s been going on, Odion was glad for the reprieve of summer. He still didn’t really understand Hammel’s set up for summer vacation, but he supposed it made sense to those having to live in dorm, such as himself. And here he thought he would have all the time in the world to spend with the kittens while Lani was away in Boston but no, Lani had other plans. Odion was really excited to be invited to go visit his best friend for part of the summer. And then Rhett came back, and asked Odi to go to France with him this summer as well. He hadn’t told Lani about that last invitation, and he certainly hadn’t told Rhett about visiting Lani, though Odi assumed Rhett would know already with his sixth sense.

He hadn’t gone out to pickpocket in quite some time. Odion strolled through the busier than normal streets of Pilot Ridge during lunch time. It was when corporate people were rushing for lunch, and even normal people were interested in not doing any dishes. And often, even normal people had valuable goods on them. Odi’s dark blue eyes darted from person to person. He wanted something new and shiny to replace the things that were broken. No one would suspect a normal looking teenager in jeans and a button up shirt, to be a pickpocket. And his face, oh his face just looked so innocent.

“Pardon me,” he said after bumping into an elderly woman. Be entrancing. He touched her shoulders to make sure she hadn’t gone off balance and she smiled at him tenderly. Odion didn’t help her cross the street or anything, but once she had, he went the other way. His hands were in his pockets now, fingering the antique locket. Some people just didn’t know the value of what they had. She wouldn’t miss it.

Lani could pull of bigger heists than this, and that made Odi cringe. Why put yourself out there so much? Making his way to a coffee shop, Odion pulled out the object and smiled at it. It was beautiful. He plucked out the pictures of a boy and girl respectively before latching the chain around his neck and tucking the locket under his shirt. He absolutely deserved a frap for that.

[Lucia Stretton]

 It was a nice summer day, a soft breeze and the sky pale blue. Sadly Luce was too stuck in her mind to even notice it was sunny. Nothing unusual there then. Luce walked through the streets, wandering around aimlessly. It was rather surprising that she hadn't walked into people much, and once almost a street lamp, but her ability and other people actually noticing her, caused a lot less accidents. There was nothing particularly odd or anything that stood out today, a few metas popping up, and maybe she'd tell Dr. Campbell later but they were of no serious risk. And- oh. Luce frowned slightly, much closer to a twitch in her lips if anything. It was a student in the Institute, there were a lot of them but after seeing most of them repeatedly for little more than a decade it was easy to be at least familiar with most faces. She couldn't quite place the name but she definitely recognized him as one of the current students. And as a staff member, and decent human being, Luce was probably supposed to report stealing an old woman's trinket.

And, it was gone-but the woman had lost her locket. He had taken it, she could see him either walking around some more or a shop? No a small restaurant, and Luce was quite certain she knew it. Her brow furrowed slightly as she tried to place where she had seen it. It was, a cafe in the club district, close by to her in fact. What was it called again? thought Luce. She pushed the rest of her thoughts away, as she tried to focus on the storefronts while trying to track where the boy was passing through. Luce was glad she had been training her abilities still, if she had tried to do this a couple of years ago she would've gotten a killer migraine. 

Normally, Luce ignored visions like this, there was a great deal of possibility not to mention it would be impossible to report every single one of them, especially considering the fact that it hardly came true. Well sometimes she might report the more high risk ones, like a murder or a stand-up but she supposed as a adult, or a staff member, it was her civic duty or something. And personally, Luce didn't really like crimes, even more so when by a kid. 

Luce stopped in front of a small cafe, Kali's Kafe written on a sign in front. She entered it and looked around the sunny cafe before she spotted him tucking in the locket in his shirt. Luce quickly walked over him, her pale, deceivingly delicate hand gripping his shoulder. "Nice trinket, care to give it back?" she said softly so that only the two of them could hear, but still sharp.

 
((OOC:outfit))

[Odion Martins]

Odion was not some kid committing a crime. He was a young man pickpocketing something he deemed rightfully his. He really didn’t like it when people underestimated him, especially adults. Just because they were older, didn’t mean they knew everything.

Standing at the register now, Odion ordered a mocha frap and went off to the side to wait for it. That’s when a woman approached him and grabbed his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile on his face, obviously confused. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” He asked, treating her like she was some kind of crazy person. Most likely the locket was an heirloom of some kind, but that didn’t mean he was going to surrender it. Odion pretended to not have any idea what she was talking about. Even the man who handed him his drink seemed to think she was a little crazy.

He took a sip from his drink, finding it hit just the spot on a nice warm day. “Are you missing something?” He asked, leaving the counter to sit at a table. This woman had no proof. Odion knew because no one had been watching when he nabbed the locket. Besides, there wasn’t anything in it now, nothing to prove who it really belonged to. He smiled sweetly at her, his hand gesturing to the empty chair across from him. He wasn’t the bad guy here, he was just a teen, done with school and ready to enjoy his summer. And that always started with a bang.

[Ebeneezer Obey]

China has bad infrastructure. It was just as bad when Ebeneezer was there, and as such he was used to the pickpockets. Pickpockets were mostly children, the older men dealt with smuggling Harley Davidson's and other American novelties into the districts, selling out to the buyer all the while mumbling poorly understood proper English nouns. Suffice to say, pickpocketing was the youth's game, from when it was almost expected at twelve to when it was embarrassing if you still did it at fifteen.

The burn of his coffee was a bad sign, Obey trusted his coffee, it knew when to play your hand and when to fold. He held his coffee steady, a stillness one gets with experience in keeping still as your life depending on it, not your life depending on keeping a hot drink still. The burn wasn't a shake of an unsteady hand or ill prepared lips, but prediction, a bad prediction. Trouble walked in to Kali's, trouble wore jeans and tacky button-up shirt, and trouble was young. Youth had its own phylum of troubles, with subsets of unique headaches derived from the shit one could get in just by association.

The kid was sloppy, which was probably why his coffee burnt Ebeneezer's lips warning him to keep clear. Sloppy that he would steal in his own town, and steal so low-dollar every day trinkets from of all people sweet old ladies. Sloppy that he exposed himself for a moment, operating in open-air sunlight places you at 360 degree risk, and unless this was a Meta with a spherical awareness or some kind of eyes in the back of his head, he couldn't hide the act from every angle. Granted, most sweet old ladies Ebeneezer knew were crafty judgmental harpies long in the claw too bitter to die. His disdain for the far side of age outweighed the near side, so it wasn't any moral or conscientious objection Ebeneezer had to the theft, but a critique from one professional to another. No, she wouldn't miss it. Might not even remember leaving the house with it, they tend to have foggy recollections. But it wasn't the score itself, it was the principal. Any middle class young American kid slipping out of private school to finger the pockets of the elderly was asking for mockery.

So it's the elderly now. That's petty. What's next, retards? Ebeneezer thought, his eyes occasionally glancing above the paper rim of his informational fish-wrap. He had to remember his coffee, he never went against its judgment. Although what its judgment was now was vague, as usual. Was it a burn if he tried to call him out, a burn to applaud him, or a burn if he kept to himself?

Now things were complicating themselves. Miss Righteous was ridding her campaign of the obvious, yes he stole something but no she couldn't prove it. Obey could swear he saw this exact scenario in some lame public service announcement, where the kid thinks about what he did, then feels guilty and hands the locket back. No, this wouldn't end so cliché, the kid needed a squeeze, pressure to remind him that the world doesn't bend to you so easily without snapping back into place and giving you whiplash. He rose from his table, leaving the newspaper behind. Moving towards the thief and his unsuccessful superior, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, dialing 911 but holding off from pressing call.

“I wanted to enjoy my coffee today, read the paper, do some of that “people watching” or however it's called, but I know a swipe when I see one. One witness? No, make that two. Enough for someone to ask some questions, some men in blue.” He sat down on the other end of the table, placing the phone down on the surface, with the screen side facing him, 9-1-1 illuminated in large orange digitalized font staring at him unfeeling.

[Odion Martins]

Odion wasn’t too worried about his style. It got the job done and kept him occupied. He could steal what he wanted and what he needed to get caught. He was rather proud of his tricks, and thought that those who cared enough to stop him, obviously had nothing better to do. For if he was petty, then they were just as petty as he was. He didn’t steal things based on their monetary value, not always. Sometimes he liked things for what they were, to keep for himself. He hadn’t decided what to do with the locket yet, but hoped it would be worth the trouble.

It was really too bad Odion wasn’t American, nor middle class. He knew he was impossibly low, and that’s what kept a smile on his face. He wasn’t asking to be noticed, and he wasn’t looking for praise or critiques. If people wanted to watch him that was their choice, but really he wouldn’t have been caught at all if these two older metas had kept to their own damn business. So what if he was stealing? It was always the older ones who had to make a huge stink out of something so tiny. She just happened to be an elderly person wearing something Odion liked. So he took it. It was that simple. As for people with handicaps, well, there was a first for everything.

Really he could go back in time and change his actions completely, and then these two would have nothing to harp on about. But he couldn’t be so cruel.

Odion had experienced more of the world’s harsh realities than this old man was giving him credit for. He felt sorry for the old jackass – life must not be very exciting right now if all he had to be proud of was trying to scare a teenage time turner into giving back a locket. Odion played the innocent and confused card, waiting for them to explain themselves more. His posture was engaged and unafraid, nothing like what a snitch would be like. Neither of them had directly said he had stolen anything, and they both expected him to put the pieces together. But he was a dumb teenager, was he not?

How two people noticed he had stolen the locket outside of the coffee shop was beyond him. It just wasn’t his lucky day. It wasn’t like he walked up to the sweet old lady, and took the necklace while she watched him do it. Come on, he was a little more sly than that. These two must really have been staring at just the precise moment. Still, the ginger had evaded the cops before, and he could do it again. It was as easy as pausing time and walking away. But for now he decided to have a little fun, and see what kind of magic his masks could weave.

And if that didn’t work, clearly he could outrun both of them, even without pausing time.

[Lucia Stretton]

Luce sat in the vacant seat in front of him. The boy was completely relaxed and played off his 'innocence' very well. Now  if Luce didn't have her own abilities she might have even believed him. But she did and the calmness seemed almost smug now. Luce was about to answer when her mind suddenly changed paths.  Oh a visitor, thought Luce as her visions shifted to accomodate the new player- a man. In fact he was either going to just watch the debacle or stay- no there he was definitely coming over with a cellphone? Or he'd just keep sippong his coffee before leaving. The boy might run too instead of keeping up his innocent act. Which she'll probably ended up finding him but it might not or might work. Luce must have looked rather odd, suddenly staring off. 

Oh and right on schedule, he showed up. Luce didn't quite catch his exact words, although she got the gist of it all, but the phone was enough- an undialled 911 call now that she could see him closely. He had seen the act of thievery as well. Still he persisted with the innocent act, although she could see the chances of him running were getting slightly higher. And how interesting, his ability seemed time related. Of course it is, damn wonderful talent for a thief. grumbled Luce inwardly although her face barely even twitched. She could see time rewinding, shifting or stopping as the boy played with the stiches of time. Luce could feel her visions muddle up slightly, while for now the chance of him actually going back were small, she could feel her mind taking it all in and her head was already starting to ache slightly as her mind went into overdrive. And the old lady was going to start searching for it too and might even call the police. Great, just great. Luce sighed mentally. 

Those who controlled time always ended up playing with the different streams of times almost like nothing. And sure, most people didn't even notice and neither did she compared to most things but once it involved her her mind would start getting visions and suddenly there were more than ten different timelines popping in, screwing with her head. "Don't even bother trying escape. It's not going to work." she said, and one might figure out she was slightly tired and not feeling so well if one knew her well enough, an unusual occurence. Luce could find him easier if he had a plan maybe but if he just ran blindly it was going to be a lot harder. "Give back the stolen locket, you're not getting off the hook that easily." she pointed out, as a vision of him walking past the old woman this time, (And mixing up her train of visions again.), a repeat of what he did but without the stealing part. He'd show up with the police as well though after that the visions branched out too thinly for her to even guess what would happen. 

[Odion Martins]

Calmness for Odion was usually coupled with smugnesss. How could he not be smug after getting away with such things on a day to day basis? A couple of older people weren’t going to deter him, and if they really wanted him to fess up, it was going to be a long day. Once things got too boring or perhaps too threatening, he would excuse himself into the bathroom, and never return. They wouldn’t know if he was attending Hammel or not, and they’d never see him again. He would see to that. Odion didn’t notice the woman staring off into nothing. It was something that often happened to him as he lost track of time. Lucky for her there was no such thing as an awkward silence for Odion.

Well if Lucia could see Odi’s time turning, she would probably also note the fact that he could move through suspended time. It was great fun, his power. The only thing he didn’t like about it was how unpredictable the future could be. It was something he didn’t play with very often, and was also the reason why he couldn’t graduate. He hadn’t master fast forwarding. Odion’s dark blue eyes remained on the man, who posed as a challenge and threat. One person he could deal with, but getting corner by two? Well, that was just asking for him to respond. A good thief new when to run away. He would plead innocence. The old lady wouldn’t be calling the police today, not when she didn’t know if it was her own clumsiness or someone’s cleverness that resulted in her missing locket.

If this woman hadn’t butted in in the first place, maybe she wouldn’t be feeling so tired. Odion was more complicated than most gave him credit for, especially for someone with Lucia’s powers, who could see every possibility. “I’m having iced coffee,” he said, an eyebrow raised at her, thinking how curious she was. He wasn’t escaping. Not yet anyways. Odion debated just stopping time right now, and reversing everything that had happened thus far. Then these two wouldn’t have anything to harp on about. “Stolen?” He asked, taking out his prize. He smiled at it, opening it up and showing it to them. Inside there was a picture of him eating a hamburger, on the other side a picture of three kittens. Oh yes, he had found the time to personalize it already.

He was going to make them think they were crazy. Unless of course, they revealed to him that they knew of his power. Then he’d be forced to use it, and that’d be no fun at all. It would ruin his game. But not everyone knew how to play his games.

[Ebeneezer Obey]

A game. This was a game. Ebeneezer couldn't be sure before, a pickpocket is not like other pickpockets, each one has certain reasons for their deviation. Power, control, desperation, the need for attention, but the young man here wasn't desperate and he didn't want attention, although he was enjoying the attention he was getting. If Ebeneezer wanted to succeed in the game, he would have to alter the playing field, and change the rules of engagement.

He extended his hand and closed the phone, canceling the dial. The three-digit number was a test, Ebeneezer had no intention of calling the police. As a matter of fact, he would be the one running if the authorities arrived in Kali's Cafe, he assumed the law enforcement here had extensive knowledge of Metahumanity, including warning signs and old troublemakers from other Institutions. But the boy wasn't shaken, not even slightly phased. Maybe he was used to dealing with the police? Maybe he too had a record to his name, though different in scope and content as Mr. Obey's.

And the question of metahumanity formed, another avenue of consideration to juggle while reading him over. Press him too hard, break the formalities and threaten him, and what den of abiotypical snakes and serpents could come rushing out towards an unprepared man just finishing his newspaper and coffee? But was that also his weapon, the knowing of danger, like two nations peered on nuclear warfare, unable to annihilate the other least experiencing mutual destruction? Clearly he didn't fear the police, and despite the reality of their fact-based accusation, he wasn't shaken. The answer could be that he was hiding something no meddling adult or human for that matter, could expect. A meta-ability. He had no proof, but it was a theory.

Ebeneezer glanced at the women next to him. Was she staring, there was that look in her eyes again. Not staring at me, he thought. The space around me, but more than that. One of Ebeneezer's strengths, that he knew and accepted anyway, was his expertise at the act of the mundane apparel. While he was occasionally identified by certain extra-national authorities in the past for recognizable facial features, his clothing, by intention, had always maintained a powerful sense of unremarkableness. With this said, he was perplexed at her periodic fixation. Nevertheless, he hoped she watched his next move, something about that gaze told him she was playing with an uncertain deck whose cards where changing as the game went on.

Ebeneezer had no evidence of theft, but he had his tools, his abilities. Nothing so blatant as the throttle of time-space, but something that could act in the quiet background of all things, without even a shadow to follow or dust to watch settle. When he said 'I know a swipe when I see one,' the words had more weight then they meant. The newspaper in his hands was a little lighter than usual, the local press hadn't much to say. As a matter of fact, the last page's backside had a large section that was blank, in between advertisements for local restaurants and shops. Fishing from the pocket where his phone was, he caught a black pen. Popping off the top with his thumb, he began to write, and speak as he wrote, eyes kept to the paper. His paper was casual and kept quiet, a noncommittal tone loud enough for only the two to hear.

“It wasn't a bad grab, mind you. Yeah I saw you, so did she, but you weren't looking for an audience. Well, now you have one, and I can't help but notice something. She left with her purse intact, I think? Oh, correct me if I'm wrong, I'm sure you will. This is all... speculation.” The drawings were two objects, waves here and lines there, although nothing recognizable yet.

“A locket is such a sentimental thing, wouldn't you say so? I used to have one, well something like that at least. It was never the gold of the locket that mattered, or silver, or whatever the metal. No, it what's inside that matters, the locket itself is just a container. It's a memory. The locket can be a heart, a star, round or like a diamond, it doesn't matter the shape, but what it symbolizes. It's that what inside is worth more than the precious metal that contains it, a memory that we can always open and renew with a glance.” The waves became hair and the lines cheeks and chins, but he wasn't finished yet.

“So, why steal it? Not for money, she still as her wallet I think. Besides, you don't care about money. You can get money anytime, from anyone. It's not the worth of the locket that interests you, not the kind any pawnbroker can give you. No, it's the worth she saw in her locket, the worth of the photographs. That's where you come in.” The drawing was nearly complete, but before he made the finishing touches he paused for a minute, his eyes snapping up from the drawing to Odion.

“Someone stole from you. Stole something worth more than money. Something couldn't be replaced. But you couldn't accept that. You knew she had a locket. A precious memory. Is it important to her? Who cares right? Just another dumb human to trick. You needed it, she was just a means to an end, to fix what was broken, to replace what was stolen. Then again, I could be wrong, right? Just a crazy old man, right?” The drawing was finished, the last touches Ebeneezer made without looking down. He turned the newspaper drawings towards Odion, revealing an impressive but not perfect facsimile of the boy and girl from the locket.

[Odion Martins]

Odion could be just as quick to change his mind about games, either change the rules or quit. If he couldn’t win he didn’t see a point in continuing. So far, he was fairly certain that this would turn out well. If not, well, he always had nine lives. Actually, more than nine. Besides, weren’t there other things to worry about other than an old lady’s trinket? Say, people getting robbed in their own homes?

The man closed his phone and Odi didn’t react. To show signs of relief would be a bad thing, and Odion knew how to control himself better than that. Thankfully for him, he had never been caught by the police before. He’d come very close once, when he was teaching a girl how to properly spray paint the side of a building, but he ditched her in order to get away from the cop that showed up. Nothing came from that. In fact, Odion’s illegal activities were so banal that no one gave him a second thought. Now Lani on the other hand... His friend stole from museums. Shouldn’t these people worry more about that?

With the amount of people in Pilot Ridge who were meta-human, it was a good assumption to make. Odion could very well be meta, and since the school was so close by, it made sense. Only time would tell if they were right.

Odion watched with mild curiosity as the man began to draw. These were a couple of the strangest adults he had ever met. A confusion expression was still on his face, and this time it wasn’t forced. He had no idea what this man was drawing, but he quickly lost interest and zoned out at the person working behind the cash register. Hmm, he wondered why Lani would want to steal such large ticket items. Had he ever robbed a bank before? Odi’s dark blue eyes remained fixated on the person in the back for a while as the old man harped on about lockets. Odion knew what a locket was, thank you very much.

Glancing back down at the drawing, Odion wondered what kind of point this man was trying to make. God, some people just thought they were the best story tellers didn’t they? But the man had him all wrong. Odion didn’t steal the locket because the old lady thought it was precious, he wasn’t a psychopath. He stole it because it was pretty. Why was that so hard to understand? People, cops especially, spent so much time analyzing thieves that they couldn’t see what was right in front of them. The old lady had something Odion wanted and in that moment, he took it.

“You are crazy,” Odion said, looking at the drawing. Although he was impressed, he couldn’t say those two looked familiar. He knew deep down inside that those were the pictures he plucked out mere moments ago, laying somewhere on the ground outside of the shop, probably blown away by the summer wind. But still, he hadn’t looked at them, and so no recognition passed his eyes. He stood, keeping his hands to himself, wrapped around his cold drink. “You’re a good drawer though, congratulations,” he said, his British accent slipping through as he made to leave the shop. He was keeping the locket, and no amount of guilting would change his mind. That old lady still had her family, more than just pictures of them. Probably anyways. But Odion? He had nothing. He didn’t feel remorse for what he did.