5383/Working Stiffs

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Working Stiffs
Date of Scene: 28 February 2021
Location: The Brooklyn Docks: the abandoned Navy Yard
Synopsis: The beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Cast of Characters: Thomas Blake, Neena Thurman

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake says annoyedly, "Slobodan... did you have to pick a rainy night? I'm not good with water." Slobodan is a Latverian ex-pat. Thick set, thick featured, thick skull. "Pussycat does not like rain? Just keep an eye on the other merc and an eye out for superheroes. Pussy."

There is the slightest flicker as claws extend from a metal glove. Slobodan misses it.

Thomas looks over the participants in this exchange. Supposedly his customers have vibranium. He is not that interested. Guard the exchange from heroes and cops. Get paid. Go get breakfast.

He sighs a little and puts up his folding umbrella. Foul night.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Neena sighs, tugging the collar of her overcoat up, although lack of hat means she's still got what feels like the Mississippi running down her spine. Her face is set in a scowl, and while most of the Triads she's escorting are also scowling, they're doing the 'Grr, rawr, we're a tough gang of badasses' grimaces, and she's doing the 'Why'd I take this job? There's not a Starbucks for fifteen blocks.' scowl of being just cold enough it's uncomfortable. And this job -so- isn't paying well enough to put up with uncomfortable -and- the whispered remarks she's been hearing for the last fifteen minutes about her. "I'm telling you, you're better off just making the exchange quick and easy and getting out before anyone twigs to what's going on here. There're limited points of egress and you're far enough from your home turf that you don't want to get into a running fight Han."

Han for his part is clearly the Triad in charge of this little shindig, a weasely looking fellow who's wiry enough he could probably just slip between two of the many tightly packed shipping containers, "Hey, just do the job you're being paid for, and stop whining so much, it's just a little rain and it's not like that haircut of yours is any worse off, mutie." He scoffs, looking around nervously nervous, as are the two guys carrying the duffel bags that supposedly carry enough cash to fund New York's public schools for a few months.

Neena scowls a little darker, tugs her coat a little more, adjusting it with a low groan... rainy, cold, and while the coat's cutting the wind, her sleek jumpsuit underneath isn't exactly insulating from the cold metal of her arsenal that's cinched tight in her combat webbing.

She really should consider that offer to help the Brotherhood on a more permanent basis. Sure, Toad's like a walking pyramid scheme spam bot, but they'd do -their- clandestine transactions in an abandoned warehouse, not out on the docks. And so she just sighs and keeps her eyes roaming around, not focusing on anything, until she spots the other party up ahead, taking up her best intimidatingly aloof pose by a shipping container, not -quite- leaning against it like she hasn't a care in the world... because she's too chilled already to be leaning against a bunch of rainswept metal.

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake is told to 'Shadow other merc, Pussycat.' By a lieutenant. That guy is not the one paying him. that earns the guy a hard look. Apparently the man is not used to being looked at like a chunk of prime rib. He goes for his gun... which appears in Thomas' hand even as Hern or something like that fumbles in an empty holster.

"We will just put a pin in this till later. Slobo is paying me good money to make sure this goes down without interference. See this is why I'm dressed like a trick or treater and you're wearing a silk suit." The gun is returned minus the magazine. And Hern is given a little shove. He falls back into step. Thomas goes towards the other Extranormal talent...


Quite apart from her capabilities. Wow. Hair all messed up, she'll be pissy about that. She's a woman so no proving who is alpha. He walks over to her, a fairly intimidating man, even when he doesn't try to be. He stops.

"Hi. I think I heard of you... but having a little trouble with my memory. Person I heard about was warm and dry with poofy hair and a huge gun." He pulls a tootsie Pop out of his pocket and plops it into his mouth.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Neena's eyes narrow as her lips curve in a lopsided grin, unable to completely hide her amusement, "Hey, my hair's not -poofy-, it's stylish... usually." She sighs and lifts a hand to her poor hair, giving it a little ruffle, sure, it's not stylish, but it's more 'Wet punk chic' than 'Drowned cat'. She scowls playfully, undoing the buttons of her overcoat and parting the fabric.

It's just enough to show off the white bodysuit beneath, blending in with that unnaturally white skin, although the black combat webbing contrasts, complete with a small commando-style combat knife on one shoulder, and a pair of machine pistols tucked in under-arm holsters, her waist holding a couple spare magazine pouches on either side. "And I don't -always- carry a big gun. Maybe it's because I'm not using it to compensate, right?"

She jerks her head towards the Triads as they close in on the meeting point and lifts an eyebrow, "Besides, this is supposed to be a milk run. Your guys give my guys the package, my guys give your guys the -totally- subtle duffel bags full of cash, and then we get to go somewhere warm, right? I mean, not 'Steal a boat and head to Bermuda' warm, but still, I'll take what I can get."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake says, "Things improved. Right now I'm being paid to keep an eye on you. As for after? There's a decent diner in Midtown. Good coffee, eggs. Oh looks like the exchange is going to happen and we can leave ..."

"Not vibranium ! You scum!" A jet of scarlet as Han's knife slashes Slobodan's throat.

Pum-Pum! As Slobodan's automatic makes a crater of Han's chest. Guns flash.

"So long sweetie, I wasn't paid to clean up after dumbassery. Nice to meet you." I mean she might be looking to avenge her employer or do something honor demanded and really -fuck it. Oh well, the diner is still there.

One leap takes him to the side of a container. He grabs the edge and pulls himself onto it. Maybe he's not superhuman but it's hard to tell from watching him now. He runs along the container and a full scale gun battle erupts.

He knew that wasn't vibranium.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Neena lets out a muffled curse as things go to hell. As the guns start firing and Thomas springs off in an instant, she reaches for one of her guns... only for one of the bagmen to take a burst of gunfire and go sprawling, the bag he was carrying tumbling to her feet.

Well, how 'bout that luck. She grabs the bag and tosses it up onto the storage container she's next to, springing up after it and hurling two objects out of the pockets of her overcoat behind her.

There's a pair of deafening bangs and blinding flashes as the flashbangs detonate amongst the warring gangsters, but she's already got the cash slung over her shoulder and sprinting across the top of the storage container, leaping smoothly to land on the side ladder of a passing car carrier truck.

She'd feel guilty about not giving the job her all, but that crack about her hair really soured her on her employer... and he's -all- kinds of dead, so who's he going to complain to?

Hopefully that diner takes hundreds, because she doubts the bag's full of singles. But maybe it is, she'll find out soon enough.

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake runs. See Tom run! Run Tom, run! Like most predators when fight is not advised he turns right to running.

"Too bad about that woman. She was all kinds of sexy-cute," he says pausing to get his bearings. A sniff tells him which way the diner is. then he hears the footsteps running behind him. He turns, dropping into a crouch. The Syke-Fairbairne's are out as he snar... oh wait.

"Oh hello sweetie. I'm glad you got out of there. Fucking assholes." He stands up straight and begins replacing his knives.

"So, Diner okay or a bar? The Dark Market has a nice little dive."

Neena Thurman has posed:
Neena slows from a run to a jog, to a casual, hip-swaying stroll as she tilts her head in playfully blatant thought, "Well, diner's probably going to wonder about why I'm buying from a duffelbag... so... bar?"

She cocks her hips and sighs, "Besides, bar's got booze, booze makes you feel warm, and I am feeling -chilly-."

She gives a little jerk of her head to indicate he should lead the way as she flashes a bright smile, "Plus, I mean, the diner'll -really- freak out if I take this coat off, so yeah, bar seems like the best place for us to not wind up with a bunch of flashing lights and badges asking questions like 'Have you got a permit for those guns?' and such."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Actually turns out to be more like three bars later. Domino has cash. Thomas has credit in a number of places. Turns out bad guys are pretty good partiers. Between drinks and games of cards where Thomas seems to be insanely lucky or skilled a pleasant few hours are passed. Then they go back to the Griffin (like a lion but a flight risk -like Thomas). He fiddles with the keys, a little buzzed and enters and waits for the full body scan. He hangs his cape up next to the door and kicks his boots off.

"So you need a place? I have a place. Man the cards loved me tonight. I usually play baccarat but I can do poker. You want a towel or a robe or something?" He ruffles his hair and places his mask on a table.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Neena is perhaps a touch tipsy, or just tired from the events of the evening, as she sways a little while she waits for the door to open, shrugging her coat off, leaving her in the combat webbing and bodysuit as she laughs softly, "Well, I mostly move around, but I could stay the night... gettin' real tired of the weather."

She looks around for a few moments, and then hangs her webbing on the nearest remotely appropriate hook and then drapes her coat over it. She huffs and murmurs dryly, "And I am usually way better at poker. I swear, I'm like... all kinds of lucky."

She looks around and finally takes in the surroundings, whistling out softly, "Yeah, this is -way- swankier than a hotel room. I'm kind of jealous." Sure, she could probably get herself a room at Xavier's, but who wants to live at a school after they've graduated? Plus, the place is even more likely to be attacked for being itself than for being her hidey hole.

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake rubs Neena's arms a little. "I have rooms to let. I kind of cater to the mercenary crowd. Oh, you are cold. Let me get a fire going. I'll get you nice and warm. Uhm, tell you what, whatever you decide, tonight on me. I had a ball, you paid for my drinks. The least I can do." He rubs Neena's shoulders once more and gets to fire building. The fireplace is well stocked with with kindling, wood and the required tools. He soon gets a fire started and begins nursing it carefully with ever larger pieces of wood and newspaper.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Neena tenses up a touch at that rub, that fabric over her arms doesn't hide the feeling of toned muscle beneath, but it's also not exactly radiating a lot of heat as she arches a little at the touch and laughs out, "Well, first rule of mercenary life is don't turn down freebies. Well, second rule. First rule's make sure it's not a trap right?"

She kicks her boots off after a moment, bodysuit snugly fitting up to a pair of dark socks that she lets whisper across the floor towards the fire, "But I mean, if you were going to to try something, doing it before the diner before I spent so much of the cash at the bars would've been it."

Thomas Blake has posed:
Thomas Blake stands up next to Domino. "Try something? I'm the most straight forward man you'll ever meet. There's no try something. Anyway, I'd be stupid to bring you back to my utterly respectable home to try something and besides... pretty sure you're still packing like a sensible girl. I'm looking for more of a mutually beneficial deal. You get a room here. You bring me luck. You're way more pleasant than most people I deal with and I doubt you bring your work home with you. And I have a couple ideas... "