Post by White Mimic on Sept 25, 2014 2:24:08 GMT -5
A routine job in a strange, far away sea, the furthest sea from Jacques’ headquarters in West Blue: the East Blue. He and Mirrorball Island were no strangers to each other. In fact, one could even say they were intimate acquaintances with benefits, but not really since only one of the two ever really benefited from Jacques’ visits. Every so often, one of a set of customers would hire a set of sticky fingers to lift some important ideas from the same industrious doors of the Doskoi Panda corporation, and every so often, those sticky fingers belonged to a man clad in orange with a name borrowed from another man in orange. Really, Jacques had been in and out of the Doskoi Panda Corporation’s main building so many times he knew the place like the back of his hand and even kept tabs on the nightly regulars to make sure no one had been fired or replaced or took an unexpected vacation, basically anything that would change the routine, even in the most remotely minute manner.
Unfortunately, routine was the flavor of the week. Same old guards, same old layout, different room than normal but it was one of the easier for him to access. The large classy building showered in grounded spotlights and the twirling evanescence of the local discoball beheld no wonder in the bored, pumpkinheaded agent. He leaned up against what he took to be a decorative lightning rod for the moment, initially confused as to why any buildings inside the dome would need it, and took to watching the usual party from afar. The heavy, rhythmic thumping of the music’s bass echoed throughout the sphere of the inner city as well as Jacques’ very own feet, tapping away on roof tile as he waited for the perfect time to approach as it always did, assuming Lick Yuban, the usual night guard for today, didn’t fall asleep on the job again. Along with the tapping toes were swinging hips and seesawing shoulders, though to a much lesser degree as he stood with his arms folded. “Hm hm hm hm hmm hmm hmmmmmmm~” He hummed along with the melody as he heard it, finding it catchy even as unfamiliar with the song as he was. It was admirable, the lengths the island’s party goers went to keep the scene fresh and popping, or whatever lingo the kids used here was. Though they glanced away here and there to check on the party happening in the main square, mostly fixing on the lifted dancing platforms and the girls on top, his eyes more or less remained glued on the company headquarters.
“Hm hm hm… hmmmm?” Little earlier than normal, but Jacques saw his usual signal to start the routine corporate sabotage. Falbi, the second floor patrol man in the west wing of the building had ended his shift and just exited from the staff entrance. Nothing was up most likely, the guy probably just checked out early, as Jacques recalled his replacement Fona had shown up a little early too. Perhaps they had cut out the usual chatter they made before switch shifts, since Fona had seemed a little upset about something. Maybe she and her boyfriend broke up, though it didn’t promise to bother Jacques and his usual routine, she had gone through worse relationship troubles than a simple break up like this. In any case, it was “Showtime~”
Cracking his knuckles and pushing off the rod with his back, Jacques casually made his way to the edge of the roof top and, without slowing down, stepped off the edge, plummeting the roof directly below. It was sloped and made for an excellent build-up of speed, with faster acceleration than Jacques could usually manage with his own feet. He landed with a nearly silent roll and continued down the roof with a nearly silent pitter-pattering of his boots on slate. He had to take it slow at first, to make sure he was synced up properly with the usual clockwork of the city and, as it turned out, he remained a bit early. He jumped across the gap in the buildings where one of the streets were, Gifford Street, before the local clock fixture in the little plaza nearby went off. Nothing happened as he landed on the other side except for the ringing of the bells that should have occurred before he even jumped, as what followed usually provided cover. As the bells quickly built up to sound off the time, confetti poppers built into the clock and surrounding street lamp unleashed their payload into the air just after Jacques usually wanted them to as they provided cover for his sudden approach on the corporate headquarters. However, Jacques had found long ago that this was mostly precautionary as most people didn’t even bother looking up that high here, the buildings were too tall to really notice a man in bright orange clothing bounding across the street via the sky in between.
Past that one jump were a few other leaps across thin alleys and sprints across isolated sky bridges, but nothing that would attract as much attention as someone seeing him leap across the clock on Gifford Street. As he continued to think though, the chances of being seen were slim to none and honestly, who would believe what they saw and follow through on it from way down there?
The typical same old same old was making him cocky, it seemed.