[center][h1][b]Trixie Turnbelle[/b][/h1][/center]
[center][h1][b]Location: Yacht[/b][/h1][/center]

Trixie was at her wits end. She owed a lot of money to more people than she could count. Of-course, most of the people she owed to were less than savory individuals. After-all, who would loan money to a boisterous seventeen year old? No-one in their right mind of-course. Sure, maybe one year ago when she started street show business (along with a little bit of scamming thievery on the side) her profile was small enough to disappear over into the next town over. That was not an option anymore. She was known well enough that people would always come up to her either to heckle her, ask for pictures, and sometimes see a magic trick. So, she was not exactly the hardest person to find.

There was Benny she just bummed money off of not even a week ago. Three hundred dollars to be exact which she claimed would get her through the weak. Benny, who had quite the rape-face, was not happy when Trixie proudly announced that she spent the money on, "Props and fries!" Then subsequently disappeared around the corner. He had lots of questions - what kind of props cost that much? And fries? Did she buy an entire bathtub full? Of-course, Trixie never lies and she did buy a substantial amount of "props" along with more french-fries than she is willing to admit. It was alright though - she would use the money she allegedly to make back the money plus some.

If it had just been a measly three-hundred dollars she owed, then she would have that paid back rather quickly. Just a few rings nabbed off some rich prick, or maybe even the gold stripped out of a few dozen smartphones she would cleverly yoink thanks to her special ability and she would have him paid back in full. Benny was only the most recent fella to come looking for his money. In-actuality, she had accumulated a debt of approximately 5 million U.S dollars with an untold amount of interest on top of it. So who the fuck was Trixie in debt to?

The Israeli Mafia...

It started one to two months ago (maybe more - Trixie is above worrying about time) and she was running a bit low on cash. Pickings were slim, she had no more couches to sleep on, and her belly was less than full, so she wandered into a loan sharking operation. Of-course, she only wandered into the business because of the silly little caps they were wearing (known formally as a kippot). You see, Trixie was not exactly Trixie. She, by a rare and select few, was known as Cochava Kantorowitsch, the daughter of Jewish immigrants. It was rare that she ever mixed her two identities, but this was a desperate situation! She came in pleading with her Jewish kin:

"We are one in the same! Gods chosen! An Abrahamic hammock, us laying as two, bundled with me and you! So uh, lend me some cash my fellow Jew." 

Of-course, Trixie thought she was making perfect sense. She is [i]never[/i] wrong... of-course any sane person would understand that she was making no fucking sense at-all and she was subsequently kicked out and told firmly, yet gently, to never come back.

Well, her pride would not let those betraying pricks get the best of her. So, as any sane person would, she decided to commission the cash off the guys herself. Trixie could teleport anywhere within 100 yards so long as no one was watching her physically, which made her robbery quite the easy affair. The wayward magician teleported right on into the business and summoned a homemade thermite charge from her personal stash. At the time, Trixie did not know the words "homemade" and "thermite" did not mix very well. Her initial plan was to burn the safe-lock open and take whatever cash was inside then repent for it later. Unfortunately, the sparks flew a little too far and the entire business went ablaze. Then an alarm was tripped, the mafia came running to her, they recognized her, and then she was out of there using the smoke as cover.

What started was a month long game of cat and mouse. One funky magician versus the Israeli mafia. They tried and tried to catch her, shoot her, run her over, and so on - but nothing was working. It eventually ended with them cutting a deal. The fellas knew that something was different about Trixie, but they could not pin exactly what it was. Definitely something supernatural about her - no-one survives the mafia's continued attacks this long, so the mob thought maybe they could get back there losses by letting her try to get the lost money back.

Trixie gladly accepted. She was getting tired of dodging bullets and cars. That was when she got the bright idea to board this "Blake" fella's Yacht and rob the rich big-wigs blind. He was only letting select people aboard and, despite Trixie's self-proclaimed good looks, she thought the three extra pounds on her waist and underage status (despite swearing she is 22) might disqualify her from boarding the ship normally. So she did what she did best and teleported aboard [i]just[/i] before the ship set off.

What was the grand plan? Trixie had rented a storage unit right on the coast (which was the alleged "props" she purchased) and bound it as her current stockpile. She was going to scour the Yacht and use her ability to teleport objects and return them back to the storage unit. Trixie had teleported into the lower deck, which at the time of entering, was mostly empty. She found the nearest bar and cleared it of expensive liquor quickly. [i]I hope the mafia is not expecting hard cash. The barter system is still good, right?[/i] she thought to herself as she made the bottles disappear quickly one by one. These objects were small, and she ate a big breakfast, so the use of her power had not tired her yet. 

She made her way to the deck of the ship to scout out the situation and maybe nab a few items quickly. Trixie, in all her wisdom, thought her magician wear was appropriate for this situation: A goofy wide-brimmed hat, a tight little crop-top, spotted tights, and reflective shoes to top off the level of awkwardness incarnate. Of-course, this outfit was her best option! Sexy kitty or plane Jane were less fitting than this and she did not have the cash to buy a swim-suit. At-least this outfit had an exposed waist.

Now, any good infiltrator knows that the best way to blend in is to act like you belong somewhere. The problem is Trixie looked maybe like she belonged on the boat a little [i]too[/i] much. She walked around with her chin up, chest puffed out, and arms swinging widely with infinite levels of false confidence. This attracted some wandering eyes, but nothing too serious yet. She made her way around the deck cupping small items of value in her hands: wallets, sunglasses, jewelry (right off the hands and necks of people), and other bite-sized trinkets. Maybe her over-confident heist would continue as planned if she did not get distracted by a stray platter of shrimp:

"Oh! Trixie will help herself!" She began to stuff the delicious little ocean-critters into her gob, "Wait, this is most certainly not kosher, eh whatever..." Her little gluttonous stop gave security ample time to locate the seemingly underage girl with the big hat who keeps touching people's hands and necks while walking around like she has a stick up her ass.

She felt a firm hand grab her shoulder, "You're coming with me," a gruff man's voice ordered her.

"If I may inquire, where might we be going?" Trixie broke from his grip and stumbled back - she casually popped another shrimp into her mouth.

"How did you even... never-mind, just, come with me. Gonna lock you in a closet or some shit," as he approached, Trixie made her move. From her sleeve she pulled a taser and jabbed it right into his neck and broke for the lower deck. He collapsed, but had time to call out for back-up. Maybe this was not the best idea? Trixie could have robbed a bank. However, the Yacht seemed so much more fun. And the logic was having all these millionaire types in one place would give more return, but that was not quite working as she planned.  

Once she made it below deck, Trixie knew what she had to do. Security was on its way and they were too far out for her to teleport back to land (she was not much of a swimmer). Now, she knew that she [i]might[/i] have a chance to continually evade these gentlemen if she stirred up enough chaos, yet that evasion would not last forever. She had to find a way to get the boat to turn back to shore, or at-least get security off her ass. 80 proof vodka plus a lighter would suffice. Just before security got to her, she had nabbed a bottle of strong liquor from an open bar. Trixie let out a hearty, joyous, and falsely confident laugh before shattering the bottle on the ground and tossing an ignited lighter on it. Hell, she even used sham sleight of hand to pull a few more of the bottles she acquired earlier from her hat and toss them on the blaze. With the fire obscuring her, she teleported to the nearest location which had no eyes on her, a bathroom stall. 

She was in for a fun time...