Painting the symbol for the hundredth time, he felt as effective as he had the first. It felt trite and simple. It was exactly what was expected of a Ragnarok member. Spray paint and terrorist attacks. He had followed the MO to the letter, and had always done exactly as Ambrose Jager asked. Need a package delivered? No problem. And if those packages occasionally exploded some time after they were delivered, it was unfortunate. Ragnarok had struck again. He was simply following instructions and doing as was expected. That, Elliott decided, was the freaking problem.

Initiative. It's a simple word that means so much. Doing beyond what was expected of you puts you a step above the average grunt. Initiative was why he had attracted Jager's attention, and unfortunately, since then he had not felt inspired to do much beyond the norm. Sure, there had been a few examples where he had gone above and beyond.

The DMV had been burned down in Ragnarok's name, and they'd claimed responsibility. Megara had helped with security issues and the whole thing had gone off without a hitch. He'd even had a real drivers license printed, and records manipulated to create a false identity of October Elliott that he could use. Texas-born, and no criminal record. Completely average, except for the fact that he was green. That had been nice.

Reverse pick pocketing had been a great idea. Elliott had help there. A nice secretary who looked like a white tiger had organized the purchase of several hundred untraceable business cards with nothing on them, save the Ragnarok design. The placement had been careful, leaving no prints. Several hundred in the crowds of New York had found the cards mysteriously in their pockets some time later that day. Cool. Nice. He had even heard that some had gotten arrested and were thought to be connected, simply because they had the cards on their person at the time of arrest. He hadn't foreseen that, but if criminals wanted to commit crimes and blame it on Ragnarok, so be it. Yet beyond those two things, he hadn't really done much with his time.

Utopia was building up steam. People were rioting for peace. Things seemed unstable. And he was tagging a building when he could be taking advantage of that. It only served him right when the bird lady walked up behind him and caught him in the act.

He was wearing a dark blue hoodie with the hood up. It wouldn't be obvious who he was from behind. He was just working on the finishing touches on the wall of the alley between two smarmy New York businesses he felt could use some Ragnarok tag hate. Funny enough, they were both Sun Dollar coffee franchises. One was simply the higher end, more fashionable and expensive variety of the two, which in this case meant you sold your first born for a cup, rather than half your weekly paycheck. Does coffee even go with lobster and filet?

Astrid trudged along the streets of Manhattan, a sour expression covering her features. A black cloud was hanging over her head as she went.

Ragnarok was certainly organized, but their communication could use some work. She had heard very little after she sent in her email, other than that there was a faction picnic.

She knew she was supposed to be doing more than she was. That much was entirely obvious. She had managed to off a few people that were bothering her, but she didn't even know how to let people know that she was connected to the organization. She knew she had to step up her game. One didn't just join a chaos faction and not cause chaos.

But what was she even supposed to do? She didn't know how to get her hands on any explosives, and she really didn't want to go back to the library to use the computer. That had been awful enough the first time around.

Then there was still the issue of not knowing how to let people know that she was part of the faction. There was likely some kind of calling card or something that they were supposed to leave. That was the worst part of not speaking the local language; you missed out on so much that other people just understood. 

She grumbled as she walked between two upscale coffee places, one a little more so than the other. Really, who planned that? They were the same brand and everything. 

Astrid stopped a little ways down when she spotted a man in a darkly coloured hoodie spray painting something on the wall. It was an interesting symbol, and it looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it.

Well, causing a complete stranger some anguish was far better than just walking around aimlessly. She stood close behind him and glared at the back of his head. "What you do?" She asked, her voice surly and irritable. 

Red-handed. He froze. Then, slowly, he turned. The can was still in his hand. If he needed to, he could spray the person in the face and run. They wouldn't remember a man in the hoodie if their most pressing memory was aerosol spray paint in their eyeholes! But then, he stopped... stopping. He stopped stopping. The face was familiar enough it didn't deserve spray paint contacts, yet.

"... Val?" Elliott blinked all sets of eyelids. Four, in total.

He'd only seen her once, but he still remembered. They'd hung out together. She'd been cool. Aside from that, the remaining details of the night were foggy. Almost as if that thread of memory hadn't finished being made...

The green-skinned man glanced over his shoulder, and shrugged. "You know what this is?" He asked her. His mouth quirked up slightly in a knowing smirk. Again, she had SEEMED cool. And chaotic. Maybe she was chaotic enough for this symbol to mean something. And if not... well... she wouldn't know what it meant, and thus would be of no bother to him. He would simply leave, and tell her to do likewise. Maybe they could go pick someone's pocket at the more expensive coffee shop, and buy coffee. And steak. And dessert.

"Octobre?" Astrid was taken aback as the man turned. It was hard to forget a face that green, or eyes that red. She shook her head suddenly, realizing that she had accidentally reverted back to French in her surprise. "October." She corrected quickly.

They had hung out only once, but she still remembered him well, even if some of the night was still a little fuzzy.

She glanced at the symbol that October had just finished and squinted at the image. No, she had no idea what it was, but she didn't want to seem naive or ignorant, so she simply pretended that she had.

"Yes," Astrid huffed and puffed out both her chest and her wings. Of course she had seen the symbol, she tried to tell herself. Of course she knew what it was. Perhaps if she told herself that enough she would actually believe it. "I knowing."

She knew? Cool. Now came the fun question. The important one. "Oh yeah?" He said. "You know what this is? Okay. I believe you. So tell me," he went on conversationally. "What does Ragnarok mean to you?"

He looked. Elliott watched. He listened, and he waited.

Of course, if she balked or was anti-ragnarok, he would be done here. He'd toss the spray can to her and leave her to her own devices. Maybe a cop would show up soon asking questions, and she'd get the graffiti pinned on her. A terrible thing to do to a friend, and that's what he wanted. A friend. But really, if she wasn't with him, she was against him, and though she'd seemed cool that night, he hardly knew her. The girl could have played dark, when really, she was about as nasty as a papercut. Somehow he got the feeling she'd react posivitely, though, and none of these thoughts would matter.

If she'd known what he was thinking, she'd probably have punched him in the face. You can never be too careful when it comes to crime.

"Ragnarok?" Astrid blinked at him. So that was where she had seen the symbol before. Everything made so much more sense. The green man had also joined, it seemed. That was awesome. It meant she had more allies with similar ideals. And she even sort of liked October. That was a rare thing to come across.

She took a second to study the symbol closely and think about what he was asking her. Her eyes attempted to memorize the lines as she thought, thinking that she could reproduce it herself like he was doing. That way people would get the idea that she wasn't just working on her own anymore. She was actually a part of something.

Problem number one was solved.

"It meaning... Badness and the killing. Good me joining. I like much." She said slowly. That didn't sound like what she wanted to say, but she hoped that he would at least understand her gist.

Ragnarok was how she elevated herself from simply stealing from shops or stabbing annoying immortals in homeless shelters. It was how she was going to make a name for herself and how she would have a better life than the one she had been experiencing for far too long. Sure, the chaos aspect of it and the free licence to kill at will were bonuses, but the incredible part was being a part of something bigger than herself. Something important and lasting.

For her, Ragnarok was everything. Unfortunately, language prevented her from conveying that properly. 

Badness and killing. She had joined. And she enjoyed that fact. "Cool." He nodded, as if that answer was sufficient. Then, he held out the spray paint can to her. "Then you can finish up the lines here and here and we'll be done." He pointed. He gestured with his one free hand.

Once they were done, they could talk about better things. Now that he had someone else who could work alongside him in Ragnarok, it wouldn't be him and a trio of women who may as well have been NPCs for all the contribution they did beyond the occasional hacked security feed. He'd have a real ally who he could do things with. Together, they could accomplish more than alone. 

Oh, they would talk. He was tired of doing the bare minimum. Together, he was certain they could figure out how best to show the world what Ragnarok meant. 'Badness and killing' was a mighty fine start.

Astrid stood for a minute, trying to see where exactly he was gesturing with the image. "Uh, yes. I doing this," she nodded after a moment. She wasn't sure that she would actually be able to do it, but she couldn't exactly say no. She needed to pretend that she had done it a thousand times before.

The winged mutant took the can from October and stood still for a minute, staring at the symbol. She attempted to conjure up an image of the finished product in her mind, but nothing came. She sighed and tried to spray vaguely where October had gestured.

The lines were shaky and likely not at all what he had meant for her to do, but there wasn't much Astrid could do about it. It was, after all, the first time she had ever used spray paint and tried to reproduce that symbol. Instead of making a scene, she simply pretended that everything was fine and that she had meant to do that.

"What next?" She asked him and handed back the can, her chest puffed out like she had something to be proud of.

Fake it till you make it.

A little shaky, but it would do. Art likely wasn't her area of expertise. Clearly, bad things and hurting people were higher on her priority list than arts and crafts. There was nothing wrong with that. Every criminal has their particular skill set that makes them an asset. Specialization often makes one more useful than being a jack of all trades, master of none.

"Are you hungry?" Elliott asked the bird girl. She had asked what they did now. Lunch was a good bet. And talking. "Because there's a Burger King nearby, and you can become royalty for about five bucks. And we can talk work."

What she had done for Ragnarok so far, he hadn't a clue. Learning about your coworkers is often a good idea. Gives you a better clue towards thawed strengths and weaknesses. Helps you understand their history and what kinds of jobs they prefer.

He wiped down the can with a dirty rag in his pocket and stuffed it away. He'd dispose of it later.

>>"Are you hungry?"

Astrid's obnoxious stomach answered the question before she could. Of course she was hungry. She was always hungry. Even the abstract idea of eating made her mouth water. That sort of came with the territory when you were between homes with little to no payment.

She really needed to go see a man, or a dragon, rather, about subsidized housing.

Astrid nodded eagerly to October. She really wanted to eat something, and didn't care what it was; especially if he payed.

Sitting down didn't sound so bad, either. Then they could talk about things. Ragnarok and chaos things. Well, if she was being honest with herself, it would be more hand gestures and broken sentences, but it was still better than not talking to anyone for days on end. That was how her life had been of late, and it was starting to show in her lack of English progress. 

The food sounded good. Very good.

Nonverbal communication was as good as any communication, and a hungry stomach spoke louder than the voice of God. "Okay," he said. They left the alley way together uneventfully. It was sometimes shocking, the things one could get away with in broad daylight on the busy streets of New York. He left the graffiti behind, feeling as if he'd gotten a away with murder... Which sometimes, he had.

The paper crown only took a few moments of fiddling with before it slid and linked together in its final form. He placed it regally on Val's head and said "Your mighty kids meal awaits, my lady." With a sweep of his hand, he gestured to her food.

Elliott had handled ordering and paying for everything, while she had grabbed them a booth by the window, with an easy view of the restaurant, entrances included. It had been his idea, so he had paid. For him, a whopper combo with a large Coke. For her, a kids meal with a burger, fries, and chicken nuggets, and her favorite Minute Maid apple juice to drink. It even had a Spoder Mann toy from the newest superhero movie promotion. This one clung to the window with suction cup hands.

"So, I've been trying to figure out what I can do that's big and messy and better than the bomb." Elliott continued casually, as if he hadn't just crowned a Valkyrie in front of a Burger King. Nobody was paying attention to the green man and his assumed mutant kid sister. "It has to have fallout - lasting chaos and impact. Any ideas?"

In a public place like this, so long as they spoke quietly and did not draw attention, it was less suspicious than clandestine meetings and discussions in alleys.

Astrid didn't entirely dislike the connotation of being crowned, even if her crown was made of paper. Her white skin darkened to a slightly pale pink, and she adjusted the thing with slender fingers. She wished that she could have seen a mirror to know what it looked like.

Her mind whirled slightly as she wore it into the restaurant and took a seat at a well-place booth. It felt good to wear the crown. Maybe if the whole 'being evil' thing didn't work out, she'd look into something with more responsibility and power.

Her thoughts were disrupted as October returned with their food. He set down a small meal in front of her and a rather large one in front of himself. She narrowed her eyes at him and glanced between the two. Hers was so much smaller, and it even came with a toy! What did she look like, a child?

With a self-righteous huff, she flicked the little toy that had not yet been removed from the plastic wrapper off the table. It landed with a hollow thunk on the linoleum floor and turned face up. Astrid turned back to her tiny meal and began to unwrap her food, never once moving her glare from October. she was his equal, and she did not enjoy being treated as anything lesser.

However, she was still starving, so she scarfed down nearly the entire thing before he had even finished his question.

"Steal of person? Or kill lot one time?" She shrugged. She wasn't really one for planning her own attacks. She tended to just follow whoever was above her in the food chain, and cause whatever nearsighted chaos was presented to her.

That was an answer. It was definitely an answer. Was it the awe-inspiring answer he had been hoping for to start to set his mind right on their best course of action for causing chaos? Nope. But he set down his large fry in front of her, and said "Good start" just to give her some positive reinforcement. It seemed she really hadn't liked being given the Mighty Kids meal. Her ego needed stroking. It was easily wounded. He had forgotten that. He'd done it more to be funny than for any other reason, but the French Valkyrie needed to be shown some respect.

"I was thinking something bigg--" He was cut off. A man in an expensive gray Italian suit was approaching them head-on, and the face held some familiarity for him. He wasn't sure exactly WHERE he had seen it before, but-- there wasn't time to place the face. The man had a tray of food, and was heading towards the back of the restaurant, where the children's play area with the climbing gym and the ball pit was. He did not see the discarded Spoder Mann toy on the floor. Food went everywhere, on the floor, on his suit, on the ceiling and the walls. He had slipped on the toy. The tray was upside-down in front of him on the floor, and the two orders of food he'd had were ruined.

The man didn't stay down long. He got to his feet quickly, and Elliott realized, in the man's line of business one did not sit on their duff very long. His speed at reclaiming his feet was due to training from his line of work. As he rose accompanied by his own personal hurricane of profanity, many words Val would know followed by many colorful and creative cracks of lightning that she did not, Elliott placed the face. Fat Tony Bacardi. He was a Troubleshooter for Don Falcone, one of the big mob family heads in New York. When the Don got mad, heads rolled. Some wound up in beds. Others got new footwear and a vacation by the bay. And when Fat Tony was unhappy, similar scenarios occurred. Fat Tony wheeled on Val, pointing his finger at her. He was unhappy.

"You stupid bimbo black-haired, wing-having broad! That ****ing thing you threw on the ground, freaking hazard," bleep bleep bleep. Elliott could just see neck muscles tightening as Val reacted to having her precious ego trampled upon by a hairy Italian goon in a pricey suit spotted with ketchup and mustard gore and hamburger viscera. It looked like a murder scene, complete with condiment arterial spray. "Tripped me!" He wound down. "****ing tripped me! How you gonna handle this? Huh!? What you gonna do?"

The whole perfect storm of rudeness, insults, and insinuations had lasted over thirty seconds. That had been thirty seconds where the entire restaurant, their table included, had just not known how to react. And in those thirty plus seconds, Elliott had had plenty of time to plan. To think about how best to react to this. Because if Val reacted like he figured she would react, Fat Tony would be a dead man. Or both of them would be. So he swept in, interrupting her before she could say a single dang word.

"I'm sorry. Sir." It wouldn't be good calling Fat Tony Fat Tony, or suggesting he knew who the hell this guy was. "Sir," Elliott kept his attention. "This is my fault. I dropped it. I have money on me. Enough to cover a new meal, and the dry cleaning for your suit." He glanced at Val significantly, as if to say 'this is how we are dealing with this mess', then continued. "She is sorry her toy fell, but it was me who bought it and me who let it stay on the ground to trip you up. I'll make it right. Please."

Fat Tony momentarily looked pleased with himself. Not sated, per se, but pleased that the person was quailing and offering recompense. Pleased that he was being afforded some respect. Though why a man from the mob was ordering food at Burger King and heading towards the kid's area--- Was that a kid's meal on the ground Elliott noticed. He looked to Val, and hoped she noticed it, too.

"You're god damn right," Tony said coolly. He looked back towards the play area, turned his entire neck. It was a feat for a man who hardly had a neck, but somehow, he managed it. There were children playing. Well. At least one. And the kid bore a striking resemblance to Falcone that Elliott was good enough to detect at a distance. Tony kept talking. "I just gots to speak to someone real quick. And then we can go outside and deal withs this matter."

Fat Tony Bacardi turned and walked away from them. He kicked the tray out of his way as he went. He was angry. His neck was one huge cord of muscle strained taut from stress, and he would 'deal withs this'. He would deal with Elliott. He just had to speak with someone real quickly. And they didn't have much time.

"I know how we can cause a whole hell of a lot of chaos," Elliott spoke to Val quickly, and in a tight whisper. "There's a kid in the back area. He's the son of a big bad guy. A mob boss in New York. Controls crime. Gang violence. It would be a real shame if someone were to kidnap Falcone's son from the play area back there while I was talking with his lone bodyguard buddy outside. Val. I want you to kidnap a child. Can you do this for me, please?"

Elliott nodded towards the kid the thug was speaking to in the play area that was glassed off from the rest of the burger king by a glass window. There were two doors, one on either side of the restaurant, that led into the play area. it was a big play area with climbing rope walls and a big plastic and metal climbing area that was a series of tubes. They led up and around inside the play area, ultimately leading to the ball pit. But the ball pit had an exit so kids didn't have to climb through all of that to get into it, too. Tony finished talking with the little boy with the dark hair and the Italian look. Kid wore designer clothes and looked rich as hell. He stood out. As the Italian mob thug walked away from the little boy (age 9), the kid hopped back into the ball pit from the front entrance. Balls of every color splashed around. He hadn't bothered climbing through the play area to get there. Kid was a little round. Such things wasted precious time and energy that could be spent playing. He was too rich and important to dirty his hands with such matters. He looked to have an ego, himself.

Fat Tony came back, and Elliott went off with him. He had left Val with a prime directive. it was entirely up to her whether she succeeded in this directive, or failed.

October passed her his large fries across the table to accompany his words of praise. She snatched them up quickly and dug her nails into the side of the container, signalling that they were hers now. They were hers and he would not get them back. She took from the container, favouring it over her pitiful kids meal.

She didn't even bother to look up as a fat man slipped on her discarded toy. It served him right for not looking where he was going. However, when he quickly turned his attention on Astrid, her attitude changed. How dare he point his big hairy finger at her?

Astrid bristled and narrowed her eyes as his long string of words lost all meaning to her. He was not going to make it out of that stupid restaurant alive.

Before she could do anything to teach the man a lesson, October spoke up. His words sounded peaceful and apologetic; obviously the wrong approach. Hadn't he just been asking her how they should be more chaotic? She moved her glare from the man onto October and crossed her arms. This was unacceptable. She was beginning to wonder if hanging out with him was really as good as she had made it out to be.

She ignored the rest of the encounter with a wicked determination, and only began to listen again when October addressed her directly.

"Val. I want you to kidnap a child."

Astrid grinned widely with excitement. Now that was what she was here for. Her wings shook with excitement as she glanced over at a chubby little boy. Oh, she was going to steal the heck out of that stupid child. 

She waited until October left to busy the fat man and then raced out of the booth as quickly as her heels would allow. She didn't attempt to be quiet about what she was doing in the slightest. She simply walked up to the boy and put her hand over his mouth.

The boy flailed and struggled against her, but that only made her hold on tighter. He tried to scream, but she did her best to stop him.

"Shut mouth, stupid," she growled.

The boy ignored her warning and chomped down hard on one of her pale fingers. Astrid yelped and leg go in surprise, glancing down at the red marks in her skin. Her eyes narrowed and she focused harder on her prize.

The boy was attempting to run, but she was faster. Even in her heels. That was the thing about spoiled children; they didn't normally work for anything. 

She grabbed him in a headlock and shoved some painfully gathered feathers into his mouth. Astrid glanced around at the stares she was receiving from the tired mothers watching their children and narrowed her eyes at them.

"Little brother," she informed them simply and then dragged the boy out through the emergency exit. 

It only took a few minutes. Elliott caught back up with Valkyrie outside the Burger King. Her, and her "little brother." He stared at the pair for a second, and then pulled a feather out of the little boy's mouth. He held it up in front of him, and his hairless brow arched... As did the corner of his mouth. Feather gag. Nice. He turned his attention from the feather to its source.

"That guy who was rude to you. He got about the same as you would have given him. Maybe more. Won't be bothering anyone any more. No witnesses." That simple. He usually hesitated when it came to that sort of work. Killing. Hiding bodies. It wasn't his style. Too messy. Bad for business, but! In this case, the guy wouldn't have lasted the week. After what they were doing, his boss would have put him away soooo fast. It really was a favor, ending it quick. But he wouldn't tell Val that fact.

"So now," Elliott said seriously. "We need to get off the street and plan our next move. I know a place."

He watched the kid struggle helplessly, but all the sounds coming out of his mouth were muffled by the feathers so it was for nought.

Elliott started walking out of the alley. His car was parked nearby. Jäger cash was good. From there, he'd find some place.