2012-10-22 Friendly Firebug

As far as dwellings went, this one leaves a lot to be desired. Someone's let herself inside to have a bit of a look around while the owner is away, and by looking around she does everything from peer into the fridge to running a fingertip across the countertop to check for dust. "Such simple creatures..." she critiques with a bit of distaste. She's seen nicer safehouses than this! But, Mystique isn't here to base a person's skill sets around how pleasant their center of command is. Reputations speak louder than interior decorating, which is what brought her here today in a brand new guise. This green-eyed woman has straight black hair falling to the center of her back, comfortably done up in jeans, a brown leather bomber jacket, and hiking boots. Pretty casual, given her usual flair, though attention has been paid to the subtle details. Even in simple attire, she's presenting herself in all of the right ways to get herself some attention.
The only problem is that waiting is boring as hell. Maybe she'll look for something to nibble on while she waits.
A man who only "sleeps" for a few hours a day has to fill his time somehow. One often chooses to fill his with work, as is the case tonight. It's anyone's guess what he's been doing, but he's more heavily laden than usual. He's got a large, round case strapped across his back, similar to those used for carrying blueprints, a heavy briefcase clutched in one hand, and his little black bag in the other.
He's changed his attire as well. Rather than his usual shirt-and-tie combo, he's wearing a dark grey t-shirt, matching jeans, and a supple overcoat. Black gloves and a balaclava complete his ensemble, but he strips those off and stuffs them in his doctor's bag as he nears his door. When he opens it, he unhooks the wire connected to a shotgun trap above the doorframe, shuffles his bags inside, and shuts the door. He's got the trap re-armed before he notices he has an uninvited guest.
One grits his teeth and makes a small, annoyed sound from somewhere in the back of his throat. As he speaks up, he scoops his document case up off the floor and unscrews the cap. "Most men would be flattered if beautiful women kept breaking into their office. I'm not most men. I'm irritable. Why don't you tell me why you're here before I decide that I'm irritated with you?"
Splendid! Mystique didn't have to burn through her entire evening waiting for this guy to show up. Game face on, the woman comes to stand right in the middle of everything, feet firmly planted with one hand settled upon a well-contoured hip. "Ah, darling, you've returned! I was starting to lose hope, much later and I would have had to pursue other avenues." In a flash the friendly smile is gone, replaced with one of concern as she looks around your place. "I must say, how can you live like this..? Oh, where are my manners." She returns her focus to you, as well as that warm smile. "Tonya Harris. It's a real pleasure, heard quite a lot of your history. Very colorful, I must say!"
"Truth is, dear, that I've come here in search of these skills of yours. You are more than a doctor with a shotgun wired to his front door, are you not? You have certain qualities that make you most useful in many different scenarios," she explains while idly roaming around your place, gesturing with her hands. "So here I am, stepping forth with a job offer for you. How does some high stakes breaking and entering grab you, mmh?"
One pauses, then screws the cap back on the big round case. Once it's set aside, he considers Tonya with wary eyes and his arms crossed over his chest. "I will perform nearly any service, so long as the payment is comparable to the risk and difficulty," he acknowledges. "Tell me the particulars. What, where, when, and how much."
He appears to be satisfied that the woman isn't dangerous, because he turns his back on her and makes his way into the kitchen. A bit of searching produces a somewhat dusty bottle of bourbon and two substantially cleaner glasses. "Drink?" he offers.
Presentation is everything. Tonya means not to be the threatening sort so much as the thrill-seeking thief sort. Looks like it's working as intended! As you head to the kitchen she starts to follow, though still keeping a healthy distance. At first. Before long she's right there at the counter beside you. "Bourbon, that sounds most lovely."
While you're preparing the drinks, she continues. "A little help for some peculiar friends. The registration act, such a dreadful thing... They wish to send the city a friendly little message." One finger gets held up in the air, "Here's where it gets interesting. It happens quite soon," she says while slipping a hand inside of her jacket, tugging out an unmarked envelope. This she offers to you. It's thick, with cash. "For security reasons I cannot disclose the location until I know that you're signed on with this little entourage, you understand. But, I trust that this might be sufficient means to sway you toward their cause?" There's such a spark in her eyes, she seems to greatly enjoy her work.
The envelope is opened, thumbed through briefly, then tucked away inside One's coat. It's thick enough to make a pleasant bulge in his pocket and bring a smile to his face. "Sure," he says agreeably. "But keep in mind, if we can't come to an agreement on the terms after you reveal the location, I'm going to have to kill you." The man-machine smiles wider, displaying entirely too much of his white, even teeth for it to be a friendly expression. "For security reasons. You understand."
There's an initial boost to Tonya's smile when you accept the envelope, but when you offer your own terms it shifts into something much more akin to a pout. "That doesn't sound very neighborly at all. Truly. Murder?" There's a 'tsk'ing sound made from the corner of her mouth a few times as she reaches for one of the prepared glasses. "I feel as though we need to work on the level of trust within our relationship, dear One. Allow me to go first."
Tonya makes eye contact with you, her expression leveling out to a perfectly blank slate. The glass is raised halfway to her lips but pauses for what she has to say. "We're going to break into the Lexcorp towers. And then, we're going to start some fires. Purely public outcry in a high profile setting, a lot of attention will be drawn to it, should be most spectacular. Violence should be kept to a minimum, this is much more of a ..stealth ignition sort than an all-out attack." As she takes her first drink she stares right into your eyes, gauging your reaction to this information. Perhaps there's more to her than being a thief...
One tips his head briefly to the side as he weighs the risk and requirements of the mission against the weight of the envelope in his pocket. It takes a few seconds, but his eyes narrow slightly and he gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. "I suspect there may be a bit more to it than that. But as you say, first we try, then we trust. I accept your proposal."
Finally, he pours the promised drink. One glass is slid over to Tonya, the other picked up and knocked back hastily, as if the liquor were a medicinal draft.
The visual cue proves successful, as well. Now Tonya has her drink, to which she also quickly drains much of its contents. "More to it, certainly. We still have to find a way -inside- of the towers. All manner of security to romp about with. That's where the real allure resides with me. Anyone can set some fires, but a chance to play with -Lexcorp- security on a one on one basis? A girl doesn't get opportunities like that every day," she says with a sly little grin.
Her drink gets finished in two passes compared to your one. "We're thrilled to have you along for this run. Shall I call you then stop on by before the festivities begin? Plenty of time to make sure everything is in good standing."
"Alright, then," One agrees, saluting with his empty glass. "I'll prep my tactical gear. If there's anything in particular that I need to bring besides my usual kit, my weapons, and a few grenades, let me know. You know where to find me."
Smiling, he removes his coat and starts pulling empty half-moon clips for his Webley from pockets in his vest. He's got on his old-fashioned leather shoulder rig, from which the butt of his gun protrudes very visibly. "I feel like getting some exercise," he says, his voice still light and amiable. "So I hope you're not looking for a zero body count on this one."
"How vintage," Tonya remarks as you reveal your weapon of choice. "Don't see many of those any longer... It is not the purpose of this excursion, but I will leave such things to your discretion. We -are- attempting to get this underway on the down low," she informs you with a hint of a warning. "Given that things are likely going to heat up once we get the cookout started, we shall go from there. Just be a dear and try not to blow cover for the rest of us, would you? This may be considered a domestic act of terrorism, but I wish to believe that we can still conduct ourselves with a certain degree of professionalism."
"Oh, my recreational activities won't get in the way of your little mission, I guarantee you," One assures her, waving a hand dismissively and pouring himself another bourbon. "I have a reputation to uphold, after all. But as you say, some challenges are difficult to pass up. We'll see how this one treats us once we meet it in person. Until then, Ms. Harris?"
We'll see, indeed. Tonya presents that warm, friendly smile once more, setting her glass aside with a "Fair enough. I shall see you soon, dear. Do sleep well! Soon we shall make some history together, and enjoy good fortune as we do so." There's practically a spring in her step as she sees herself out.
Category:Logs
Category:RPLogs