#thirteens_haunt

The house before them is large. Like many are. The biggest of the layouts. Paint white, with three stories. The trim blue. The yard is perfect, green even at this time of year, it might make one wonder. No flowers in bloom, but there are plenty of cut back bushes waiting to grow.

Zara slinks across the lawn, crouching by the two boxes... it takes surprisingly little time, a brief flash of silver in her hand, a twist... and the padlocks fall open.

(He notices, but doesn't say anything, staying squatted back below the window level and watching intently)

(A snort, and half grin at the lock's surrender)

Both boxes open easily. One is indeed a breaker box. The other is set up for security, and looks to be a touch more technical. Within the blue box is a panel and a tiny screen that is currently blinking with a glowing green light.

Of course cables race up into the green glowing screen, at least to the bottom of the panel that it glows from.

"Mmm... "She squints at the screen, looking to see if it is possible to disarm, rather than cut.

It looks to be a traditional number pad just below the screen. Set up a bit like an old fashioned phone. 1 and ABC being on the first number, and so on.

She looks back, and waves Ice over.

(He does a quick look over the area, making sure no one's watching, before rising and ducking over, trying to stay below window level still. He settles beside her)

"Disarming would be better than cutting, if we could. You able to?"

(Examining the box, then flicking eyes to her. He squints) "Pull the cross-connects at the binding post."

The green screen flashes at them. Almost as though daring them to try.

"Bypass this altogether, I think. Not so much into the hardware side of cables, me."

(He looks back, and ignores the green screen altogether, following the cable path)

"Might take out the neighbors, too, but who's going to be making calls this time of night?" (He just yanks the cable)

"Want to turn off the alarms in the house, too... should disable both. Mayhaps I take this, you take the breakers...."

((Or not, if she stops him))

The cable path does not go far and it will indeed take out a few of the neighbors. But there's nothing really on at this time but the shopping network? Right?

"You, cut that, I'll cut these - no power for the house alarms, nu? On three..."

Thirteen still stands back, though her red eyes are keeping sharp watch. On the street and on the house its self.

(He waits for the count, but pulls instead of cutting)

(The breaker wires)

(Not wanting to use metal snips on high-voltage wires)

In concert, she cuts the wires on count - leaving the house powerless and isolated.

And all is quiet. The red dots that show the camera is on, are the only things that change. They go out.

"Hey, you got a sharpie?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Toss it to me?"

She fishes in her jacket and offers it out.

Thirteen watches her head tilted as Ice takes the sharpie.

(He turns back, and scrawls over the breaker box. A gang-graffiti he's seen in the area. Let them take the blame for the vandalism)

A soft chuff of laughter. "Good idea"

(A quick grin, and offers it back)

Thirteen smirks. "Now inside?" She whispers. "The master bedroom is on the second floor in the house layout plans. Perhaps he is there?"

"Inside. " Her eyes trawl the foundation - a dryer vent or basement window would be best.

"After you guys."

Thirteen nods and starts to look around for a vent or window. There seem to be several. And one basement window, done over with black plastic.

Zara, however, goes for the vent. A screwdriver from her kit, carefully undoing the hardware.

The vent is small, but not small enough to keep out say an animal, small child or squirming fae. It is dark though. Pitch black, once she gets the cover off.

(He has returned to watching back over their shoulders, muttering in Yiddish)

Zara is unbothered - her obsidian eyes are undimmed by the shadows, able to pierce through darkness as easily as daytime.

Then she is the first see what waits a few feet below. At first its normal things one might find in a basement. Boxes, tools, camping gear. Bare cement walls and hanging bare lights. Then it gets a little odd, canvases of all shapes and sizes. Some of them on the floor, some leaning against the wall, others on easels. Drop cloths and containers of paints are also stacked neatly. Its the subject matter that is disturbing. Children, in all sorts of unusual situations. From cardinal to the macabre. Engaged in acts that they should not be in, to being painted as dismembered bodies, often violently. He seems to be in a -red- phase. All sorts of shades of red.

She draws her lips back, black gums bared in a soft hiss.

"Should have brought a furking flashlight." (Muttered, still)

"Seems he's an artist."

From behind them. "I told you he is a dreamer." Said softly.

"Art? What kind of art?" (Finally tries to look past)

Thirteen offers Ice her dim flashlight. Perhaps to help him take a look.

"Paintings. It looks clear below. Follow me in..." though she waits for Ice to take a look before squirming into the vent.