athiefinrouge-blog

[athiefinrouge-blog]

[athiefinrouge-blog]

I think I’m not the only one feeling this weird trapped feeling today, feeling sick and overwhelmed but unable to stop reading, reblogging. Trying to understand when there is nothing to understand.

I live in the middle of it. 19 people died in front of the bar I go drinking twice a week, and my friend the barmaid was hidden behind the bar for two hours. One of my best friend lives rue Bichat and heard the gunfire from his window. I know a family trapped in stade de France. I should have been drinking in Republique at 8PM yesterday, where they started shooting.

Yeah I get it. We are freaking out.

But please, stop spreading only the bad stuff. Stop the pictures and videos of bodies in the street, of yelling and blood. Stop talking about refugee’s hate, and islamophobia.

Talk more about the people that yelled in the street the number of the code to their flat when victims where running everywhere to bring them to safety. The man that opened the window of his flat to victims of the Bataclan stranded on the roof.

Talk about the man that went back to help a stranger pregnant woman, and the kid that was carried to safety by a total stranger worried he could be trampled by the crowd.

Talk about the social media, the hashtag #porteouverte to get people out of the street and #voyageavecmoi to help people afraid to travel alone because of their religion/skin color.

Talk about the taxis that stayed in the street, bringing people home for free all night, and the bus drivers that helped evacuate the Bataclan.

The people crowding the blood centers, so much that Paris now has to send them back home.

The people in their home, terrified and in shock, and only waiting for the possibility to crowd the street and show them that we are afraid but not broken, and together.

There are handfuls of people that will take out of this tragedy all the bad lessons, the wrong evidences.

But please don’t talk about them. Talk about the fraternity and the love of the scared, scarred, ones in Paris. Because we are so many, and we won’t give up

[athiefinrouge-blog]

“Because someone’s going to have to keep looking, genius.” Lupin sighed and brushed his fingers over the stones and the symbols etched on them. Had to mean something. “If I had Goemon, this’d be a lot easier.” Could just slice that door away.

He flinched away from the light in his eyes, but scowled back at the thief. He couldn’t pin this on him, he was the one with the light. How was Zenigata to know there was a switch on the floor, echolocation?

Blinking the angry red afterimages of the bulb from his eyes, he stayed where he was until Lupin lit the other lights. “Make myself comfortable? What’re you gonna do?”

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Groan. Of course. Lupin beamed the flashlight in Zenigata’s face, glaring. “Good job.” After that he just sighed and went to look around some more, until finally he found the golden bust in the far corner. Somewhat reminded him of the catacombs inside this place. Made him shudder.

Pulling out his lighter, he went to burn the torches in the corners to save flashlight battery. Easier to find clues to see how they could get out. “Well, we’re going to be here a while, might as well make yourself comfortable.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he groused as he stepped inside… and promptly set his foot on some sort of switch, as the passage behind them suddenly swung shut again.

“… Dammit.”

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Oh, yeah. He’d forgot he’d left a note. “Right. Whatever. A shame it hadn’t given you food poisoning. Then I wouldn’t have to hear you complain about secret passages for a secret treasure.” Oh, well. Can’t have everything. He stepped on in the secret room, looking around and trying to see if the item in question was inside. Hmm...

“Don’t touch anything.”

“Oh, so, some other Lupin the third sent me breakfast.  With a note.” He rolled his eyes. There was no point to being coy, you sent a note sir. Perhaps it was a good thing he didn’t know he’d actually delivered it, too. He folded his arms and followed him around, squinting as the wall gave under him. “A hidden room in a secret subbasement. God forbid anyone build anything straight forward.”

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“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Playing coy. He pressedh is hand against a wall and felt it give into his weight. He caught himself and grinned. “Aha! Found it.”

“Sure I am.” Lupin shook his head and went past him to snatch the flashlight and use it to look around for an entrance to the next room. They’d found something at least. “At least let me find the priceless treasure first.”

[athiefinrouge-blog]

“Sure I am.” Lupin shook his head and went past him to snatch the flashlight and use it to look around for an entrance to the next room. They’d found something at least. “At least let me find the priceless treasure first.”

Lupin stopped and snorted.After a few minutes, a rope WAS actually tossed down., but it was for himself to start climbing. Once he touched the ground, he was careful and noted just how the inspector was stuck. 

“Looks like you can’t arrest me like that anyway~.”

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Lupin the Third always found a way in, however. He never just jumped into something without some planning. And it wouldn’t be the first time he’d hit this place. But, he had heard they upgraded security - which was really the only reason he was interested. What tricks did they have to challenge him with now?

Snickering to himself, Lupin placed a device against the roof, listening for the sound of the ‘click’ of one part of the security to be disrupted from the small emp. He gave a thumbs up to someone in the darkness before something flashed and a hole on the roof was perfectly cut for Lupin to dive down through. Rope was attached to his middle as he slowly descended, activating the goggles over his eyes to see the infrared lasers. That part of security of course, hadn’t been removed.

That was fine, of course, he knew how to avoid them as his feet hit the ground. Removing the rope, he went to sneak around, checking for any guards on duty that he’d have to knock out and hide in some broom closet. 

Doctor Who and the Deadly Treasures

It was a dark, peaceful night. London was quiet, as the good lot of people were already in bed, with only a few night owls scattered about. The moon shined down brightly, giving the central area of the UK a celestial glow, the River Thames reflecting the soft light of the lunar surface.

On any night, it would be considered just another night.

That was, until a familiar Police Box materialized.

The grinding engines of the TARDIS echoed across the near silent environment of London, the light on the top beacon blinking. As the engines stopped with a thud, the light stopped blinking, and the TARDIS fully landed.

Stepping out of the blue object was a tall, curly haired man in a gray-tweed frock coat, long striped scarf and a floppy hat.

Looking at the dark, night sky that was populated by the twinkling stars, he would adjust it, to not obscure his vision. This man was no mere man, for he had traveled to those very stars just for the purpose of exploration. This man was a Time Lord.

He was the mysterious traveler in time and space known only as the Doctor.

And it seemed that he landed in the wee hours of the morning.

“That’s odd.” The Doctor said to himself. “Why did the TARDIS decide to land in this ghastly hour? Everyone’s off to bed by now…”

With a shrug, he decided to take a late night stroll. Turning a few corners, he had landed near the British Museum. After drifting in his thoughts, his eyes trailed to the building that housed many priceless objects from history. Normally, if it were daytime, he would have payed the building a visit.

However, something caught the Doctor’s eye.

On the roof was a figure. He could barely make it out in the night, but it looked like it was a man. A bit of a lanky man, by the looks of it, and he looked like he was scaling the roof for a way in.

“Well well…” The Doctor said to himself. “It seems someone wants the special late night admission…” He planted his feet and watched the figure closely. If he indeed found a way in, he may have to intervene…

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Lupin stopped and snorted.After a few minutes, a rope WAS actually tossed down., but it was for himself to start climbing. Once he touched the ground, he was careful and noted just how the inspector was stuck. 

“Looks like you can’t arrest me like that anyway~.”

There was a wave of panic as he heard those foot steps go, but he struggled not to voice it. He wouldn’t. Would he?

…

“W-wait! Just… Just throw down a rope at least. P…please.” He hated himself for giving in, but… he really didn’t want to be stuck down there.

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Lupin rolled his eyes. At least the big oaf was still alive and didn’t sound like he was in any real pain. Nothing broken. “Then I guess I’ll just have to leave you down here all alone with no one having any idea where you are,” he drawled.

Bluffing, of course, but he was already ‘leaving’. Doo dee doo. Hear those retreating footsteps, Pops.

There was a groan at the bottom of the hole, well out of the wan light of the basement. The quality of it seemed to suggest he was in some sort of room, a sub-basement, rather than just a random sink-hole. The old man shook his head, and a light came on, his flashlight still in one piece. He shined it up at Lupin, then down around himself.

“H-ha. I’ve got you now, Lupin. I found your stash before you could get it. I.. if you come down I’ll nab you.” His bravado was a little undermined by the painful waver in his voice. He’d broken his fall on the ladder out, which had likewise snapped. He was kind of stuck.

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That. Didn’t sound good. Especially when Lupin’s eyes had been better adjusted to the dark to have seen the inspector fall. “Oi! Pops!” No time to be concerned about being caught. He had to find out if the bumbling old man was still alive. “You okay?!”

The clatter got his attention, and he moved as quickly and quietly as the cluttered basement would let him. The low ceiling forced him to stoop, and he couldn’t see very far, but he let his gut lead him, and soon he came to about the place he’d heard movement. Eyes narrowed, he scanned the area. Lupin must be here, hiding. Somewhere.

One step, two steps, he entered the space, only to frown at the floor when it suddenly gave a wooden creak. The rest of the basement had been concrete, but if he squinted through the dust and dirt, he could make out the worls of dirt.

Or he could for about thirty seconds before the old wood gave way and he plummeted out of sight

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Lupin finally found something, but not before he had to shove something heavy out of the way, that echoed rather loudly. Shit. He cursed, looking around. It was still dark down here so he had to hide behind something incase someone was here with him.

Just had to wait and see if that got a reaction.

It certainly wasn’t easy to find him, but he had a hunch after reading his card. The building had been largely remodeled, and anything on the upper, inhabited floors would have  been found. That left the maintenance areas towards the basement to search.

Finding an elevator with access to those levels wasn’t nearly as simple. The staff wasn’t as helpful to the police as they should have been, meaning there was likely some questionable activities going on in that hotel, probably to do with the adjacent casino, but that was a question for another time. After a struggle, he managed to get to the low-ceilinged basement, eyes and ears open for the thief.

[athiefinrouge-blog]

Lupin certainly found what he was looking for, and was thus trying to get it open. Which was the tricky part. Feeling around the walls for a loose brick or something. This basement was pretty spooky, but he’d been in worse.

Wasn’t expecting anyone to be down here with him. Though, maybe Pops.

He’d have been embarrassed if he’d known Lupin had seen him in that state, hair sleep-mussed, in a bath robe. Vulnerable. Unprofessional.

The food got his brain working, however, and he knew, hint or not, if Lupin was going to be up to something today, he wasn’t going to wait long. And he must have already been up and at ‘em if he’d gotten Zenigata a breakfast.  As the last of the eggs were eaten, he got up, pulled a brush through his hair and threw on his suit and trench. Yanking the door open to start his investigation, he glared at the card already pinned to his door. So it was like that, huh?

Fine. He’d catch you, Lupin, no matter where you’d crawled to in this huge building.

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Good. Because while Pops was enjoying his meal, Lupin was sneaking around the hotel. Zenigata was, currently, unaware of the secrets hidden within it. That was the entire reason he’d booked this place. That was the main objective. 

There was a hidden treasury left here when the owner built it centuries ago. This place had been touched up over the years, and no one ever found the secret hidden within - but none of them were Lupin the Third.

He tacked the official calling card on the front of the inspector’s door after delivering the food. Yes, he’d been the lady. But whatever. Now he was dressed as an employee so as not to look too suspicious while being sneaky. There was no storm today, so less trouble with the elevator this time. Hopefully.

Zenigata snorted at that, crumpling the note and lifting the lid on his tray. Alright. Alright, Lupin was treating. And giving him a hint. He’d see about plans later.

But for now, this was getting eaten.

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Hey Totsan, 

Figured you could use a pick me up after yesterday. My treat, of course. And before you get suspicious, it’s just an apology gift. Besides, I have plans later today. Catch you on the flipside.

The one and only, 

Lupin III (peanut head symbol)

PS: this letter will now self destruct

--

Haha just kidding! Enjoy your breakfast nerd.

“No, someone called to have this delivered to you,” answered the woman. “They also left you a note.” She handed him the tray. How curious. At least he’d have breakfast.

[athiefinrouge-blog]

“No, someone called to have this delivered to you,” answered the woman. “They also left you a note.” She handed him the tray. How curious. At least he’d have breakfast.

The early knock shook the inspector out of his sleep, and he stared muzzily at the door. He’d slept in the hotel’s complimentary bathrobe, and the hair at the back of his head was plastered straight up by the pillows.

Room service?

He hadn’t… ordered any, had he? He trudged to the door, checked the spyhole and saw a tray, and he opened the door slightly. “Think y’have the wrong room,” he mumbled through a yawn.