| Meeting of the Mimes |
| Summary: | Er Minds …. Nightcrawler and Hawkeye meet to talk mafia, Domino shows up, Blackout eavesdrops |
| Date: | (2014-09-26) |
| Related: | Some, plot developing, more to come |
| NPCs: | None |
| Scene Runner: | NA |
| Social/Plot: | Social |
| Players: |
 .. .. .. .. |
They met last time at Bobby's, agreeing on some level to see about helping SHIELD Agent Barton. Though Domino nor Kurt knew the extent of help, as much as Clint knew a price he might be able to set to lure in Domino to assist, to help make up for the blowing of his least group of leads to learn the bigger picture. Research on Kurt reveals him for who he was, the CEO of a large global corporation, out-ed as a Meta when they all started coming out. He lost a professor gig he had teaching political science in Germany, but kept his CEO seat on the chief-suite and board. Some trouble with his staff at his home, he went on the lamb, but there is evidence he did join up with a circus, taking the name Nightcrawler. Its not associated so much, but a good SHIELD research would have some links to make it a near match.
Needless to say, when the agent wants to meet gain, he's available. Being the first one this time to go get the burgers and fries. He's all for it. Wearing hoodie today, with a pirate robot on it, nice slacks, and no shoes - but three-toed booties at least. He is dipping fries into a shake as he sits on his bench in a squat position, both feet on it, butt not quite on it, tail flipping about like nobody’s business.
Why is it that the elf beat him to the meeting place? That's a spy's job, dammit. Check out the area, then move in to the meet once the perimeter is secured- blah, blah, blah. Blame it on traffic, the fact that the dryer at the laundromat was slow and putting out less heat than the others, or even on the fact that today is the day that his Mr. Coffee died in the apartment and that he's carrying an 'Eighth Avenue Electronics' bag with, yes, a new coffee pot in a box.
One of those days?
It always is.
Dressed in a t-shirt (nice day today, sun is shining and summer is -trying- to make a reappearance), jeans and boots, Agent Barton once again has those dark sunglasses that cover intense blue eyes. The door opens, and in looking about, exhales in a sigh to see Nightcrawler already there ahead of him. So, best thing is to cover. Meant to be 'fashionably late'. Yeah. Coming up to the table, he nods to a waitress to signal that he's with 'the blue guy' and pulls a seat out with a foot.
"Wagner. Glad you could come."
They say money can't buy happiness, but it can buy lunch. Fortunately, Domino's not hurting for cash lately. She's in the area, too. What is wanted plus what is conveniently offered equals one hasty decision to stop and fulfill all requirements across the board. Her matte grey on matte black motorcycle gets parked only a dozen feet from the entrance, the curbside offer opening up literally right as she pulls in. With time still on the meter! The helmet is shed and left behind before she steps into the burger joint, pulling shades off of her eyes but leaving all of the black and dark blue biker leathers in place. Sunny weather be damned, these buildings tend to have climate control.
Now, she met Nightcrawler and Hawkeye once before. At a different burger joint. In another part of town. She barely sets foot inside when she stops short, still as a statue.
Odds of randomly spotting Nightcrawler in another diner: 1 in 51,460.
Odds of randomly spotting Barton in another diner: 1 in 42,113.
Odds of randomly spotting -both of them in the same diner at the same time-: 1 in 702,961.
Shades still pinched between two fingers up near her head she simply spins about on a motorcycle boot and starts walking right back to her bike.
Outside, a man in a black suit, black tie, on a black shirt casually walks down the sidewalk. His intentions are obviously to seek out some form of sustenance. But he will take his time to get to the door. He pauses outside, places his foot on a bench, and ties his shoe.
"Glad you would have me, Heir Barton," nods Kurt in his glorious, not-nazi, German accent. He waves a hand even for an event, though Barton helped himself all the same. Kurt certainly, probably, cheated in getting here first and fast, with his bamf'tastic ability to just move around. "I hope you found everything to your satisfaction, I would honestly like to help." Maybe more help Domino get some money out of this if there is a chance of that. The little blue bugger did feel bad she was locked in that trunk, even if someone might think she deserved those dues.
And speaking of which, just over Barton's shoulder the bell rings, the door opens, the person forgot their wallet and is leaving. "Er, one sec. I think I know that guy, ja … I do." And he simply bamfs. If one doesn't like brimestone or sulfur, its probably not polite, but he does it the same. Out the door. Near someone heading for a bike, with a patcheye.
"Er, going so soon, I thought we were all getting along?"
The blue elf is appearing probably in front of Blackout, in his attempt to stop Domino.
Of -course- Barton did his homework on the tail-waving elf in front of him. Found him to be a pretty upfront sort of per- uh.. meta-blue-thing.. guy. Wagner Global CEO, check. Circus sideshow, check.
Barton doesn't remove his sunglasses in the place, but his expression does seem to be less severe around them. "Yeah, I did, actually. Interesting read."
The waitress arrives with her pad, standing to the side of the Agent, before she asks, "Can I get you anything to start you off?" For a moment, there's no response from the archer. Finally, he looks up at her, adding, "What? Oh, yeah, sure. Coffee, please."
Once again, Barton's got his attention back to Nightcrawler, "To be honest, I'm interested in your ability to tel-"
BAMF!
"-eport." At the brimstone left behind, Barton starts to cough, and he actually has to rise to find a spot that isn't hit by the stench of rotten eggs. "Okay, maybe not such a good idea."
It's in the rising, then, that Barton spies the departure of a certain albino merc. "Oh, no…" No, she'd better not leave!
Bamf!
"GAH!"
Domino nearly jumps a foot and a half away from Kurt when he suddenly appears directly in her path, pale eyes now staring wide as the foul smelling smoke quickly dissipates down the windy city street. Between the two of them several people nearby are also startled, some jumping, some ducking, one even tripping over the curb and hop-stepping three times before landing across the hood of a parked car. At least it doesn't trigger an alarm, that would just be embarrassing.
On the street proper a taxi suddenly touches the brakes and swerves a few feet outside of its lane, prompting another car to momentarily lay on the horn.
"Are ya tryin' to give me a heart attack, Fuzznut?!"
The cabbie leans out of his window and calls back "I don't know about you, lady, but he sure gave me one!" before he quickly drives off.
With that out of the way she reaches around to rub the back of her neck. "I forgot..the keys..in the igni-oh screw it, let's get this over with," she ultimately sighs and turns back around once again.
No rest for the wicked. Or for Hawkeye, who now has the pleasure of getting a disgruntled albino flopping into a seat directly across the table from him. It might have been Kurt's seat a moment ago. She doesn't really care. "Barton," she says with the low resonating impact of an underwater explosion.
BAMF!
The sudden arrival of Kurt, Blackout stands slowly and takes a step back. He then spots Domino a whole lot closer than he would want. However, he remains quiet and watches the exchange. He's not wearing his mask, therefore unlikely a person of any interest to anyone.
As Domino moves back inside, Blackout will casually follow and take a seat some tables away.
"Ya, did it work, are you dying?" Kurt grins to Domino.
To the cabbie he lifts a hand, "Hey, no one asked teh peanut gallery." Though the cabbie is driving off and Domino is giving in to going inside. The plot has worked. Not that it was a plot at all though. He moves in to join here. "It was destiny, frauline, and I am good friends with destiny. Besides, Herr Barton is totally promising adventure, you can't pass that up, that just doesn't come your way." Well, maybe it does for Domino.
He does not notice Blackout, or have reason to presently.
"You were saying, and I'm guessing, this teleporting thing has made you curious. Not my amazing abilities on a trapeze." Grinning to Domino, "And I am amazing, mind you, its what they called me, the Amazing Nightcrawler. If I was still in the circus, I'd give you free tickets."
Barton is taking his seat once again as Domino grumps into the shop, the coffee also making its way to the table at the same time. Mmmm. Residual sulfur and coffee. How's that for a lunch-time pick-me-up?
With the good comes the bad. In all senses of the phrase, apparently.
A quick glance is given to the newly arrived, and beyond (that's you, Blackout!), before his sunglassed-attention falls back to the pair that will (eventually) be at the table with him, after musical chairs is done. "Okay," and the coffee is lifted and sipped tentatively due to the heat. "Here's what I am looking at, and here's where you can help." The archer looks at Kurt first, then Domino. "Infiltration into the area where Domino," and at the name, his sunglassed gaze lingers on the albino, "got hired. Which means I need you to lead us there. Lists, manifests, anything that can be gotten out of there would help, because that's where the Russians are going to pull from next." Trick is to beat them to it. And if there's cash lying around in a safety deposit box somewhere in there? All's the better.
Barton gives an appraising, studying look to Nightcrawler, and he asks, "Okay, personal question. Other than teleport, how are you as an 'inside' sort of guy? Ever do this sort of thing before?"
"I'm not -that- lucky," Domino mutters under her breath when Kurt asks if she's dying. As far as 'destiny' goes, she's not going to get into the subject. Some things are best left unsaid.
When he mentions having been in the circus she's tempted to make some sarcastic remark about how she used to be a mime but stops short of actually saying it. Knowing what she does of the guy he'd either take it seriously or constantly point back to it. Or both. There are more profitable ways to poke fun at herself.
Arms heavily fold together on the table as she leans forward, distantly offering a monologue of "When we last left our intrepid heroes…" as Barton starts talking, apparently failing to hold any of her interest. Initially.
"Wait. You mean you actually expect me to do something for you? What, out of the goodness of my cold black heart?" she pointedly asks, staring back at Clint even as she reaches out to steal a couple of Kurt's fries.
It's too bad she doesn't know Blackout's here as well because that would seriously mess with the odds.
Blackout remains obscure. He orders water, a burger and fries from Maribelle the waitress. He looks around the restaurant once, taking note of the major players, but then he returns his attention to his Starkphone and sifts through social media.
Kurt's listening, lettign his fried be stolen, friends do that thing and he's totally making Domino a friend. Is she had facebooks, he would of requested it already. Though he reaches for some fries too, via a tail, but only when her hands moves aside. Hand bumping for fries is inconsiderate unless on a date and wanting to accidently touch.
He hears it out, but first turns to Domino, "Doesn't it help you get back more at those jerk faces, getting our friend Herr Barton to totally bust them, send them to Stalingrad and cease all their finances, except the finances that go to you for the assist?" He grins a little, thinking he gets some of this new business relationship that is developing.
Looking over to Barton though, as if actually trying to negotiate, though he just told Domino he was in for the adventure. "What, how often do I teleport into mafia bases, bust them up, find more information and like do crazy stuff. This would be my first time. As for being sneaky, well, I've tried that,it works, just you know the teleporting and some people thinking it stinks or something, yeesh. Ya, shadows, I can be like a ninja. Really, shadows and me are buddies like that."
"Cold, black heart," Barton repeats. Where's he heard that one before? Oh yeah. All the time with pretty much every contact he's picked up over the years that have ended up to be, if not drinking buddies, at least not a 'shoot to kill on sight' sort of ally.
It's the -tail- in the fries that brings Clint up short, however, and he's left staring before he can no longer resist, "Please don't do that."
Right, and a SHIELD agent is trained for such odd occurrences, but as he's been reminded in the past? 'Sometimes training just doesn't cover it all. Adapt!'
"Back to the topic at hand, Wagner's got it right. And I'll admit, I want these guys -gone-. The Russians more than the Mexicans. And the contract is a good starting point. I've got the shadows from the contract you took," and the pointed (sunglassed) look returns towards the albino, "to work, and I've got questions."
Yes, discussing such things in a not-overly-crowded burger joint. Call it a working lunch!
The coffee is attended to once again, and half the mug is finished before Barton gives the blue bamfer his attention once again. "Right, okay. I think we can use that."
There's something about the guy in an all black suit, however, that draws Clint's eyes over. Priest? Not the right sort of shirt. Funeral director? Even they wear white at some point, right?
Domino's chewing slowly comes to a halt as she spots the tail going for the basket in her peripheral view. A brief pause is followed by her swallowing the gob of fried potato bits with a little more effort than what it probably should take. (Aaand that's the last time I take any food from this guy.)
Next she's holding up a gloved hand, spots of white still showing through the skeletonized fingerless design. "Stop trying to use your businessman wiles on me, kiddo. -This- guy," she says while meaningfully pointing at Clint, "is SHIELD. SHIELD and I don't play nicely together. His happy little division has enough resources and manpower to handle this without my getting involved, which is just how I'd like it to stay."
"In case you aren't familiar with product quality, once everyone -else- figures out that they're getting Chinese knock-offs for their dollar they're going to go ballistic on these guys and it'll be a firefight with more jams per second than the next leading competitor. Give it three weeks and the problem will sort itself out and then some. I'm pretty sure Darwin covered all of this at some point."
Good thing Clint's got eyes on their mystery guest, she had to go and sit with her back to Blackout.
Sifting through social media, Blackout (the man in black on black on black) seems to be content with the events of the interwebs. He pays no particular (at least visual) attention to the gathering that discusses SHIELD, Russians, and Mexicans. Instead, he just scrolls up, and up, and up.
Scratching his fuzzy head and elfin ear, Kurt offers to Domino, "It might, but I'm guessing, on account of the official justice friends badge our friend Barton has, he still gets involved, like its his job. And ballistic or note, he's gonna keep the collateral to a minimum, maybe save people lives." He looks to Hawkeye to confirm that.
"In businessman world, we call it human resources, but sounds so impersonal - I'm going with people lives, or peeps as the kids used to say. They're those little yellow things around easter and deserved to be saved. I'm in!"
"I can get most in and out, I just need to see where I'm going, or have been there before, but ya, jams per second, I'm out, I'm not standing still for bullets to penetrate me. I'm dumb, but I'm not the target dummy." HE grins, that was sort of witty, even if poking fun at himself.
"And that's what I'd like to avoid. People getting their hands on the stuff to begin with." Barton looks between the pair once again. "I want to see where the channels lead, though. Close one opening another will open. Gotta go deep."
Which means that 'in and out' sounds good. "How 'bout using surveillance footage? Does that help at all?" It's a shot in the dark, as it were, but Hawkeye is good enough that even those shots tend to stick.
Still, there's more shallow discussion to be had, and not a little convincing to at least be heard out. And what better than over burgers? (Unless there's beer. Then, hands down… beer.)
Faded …