Participants:
| Scene Title | Hired Reaper |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Mortimer randomly asks Cardinal for help with freeing Company prisoners, then is pleasantly surprised to learn that Cardinal isn't just some expendable bum. |
| Date | April 29 2009 |
A run down Staten Island pub.
It's earlier in the evening, and the small seedy pub is just starting to get its regulars. A few drunks here and there, then there are the rats, and a few criminals who come to meet eachother and exchange information. But one such person is not a regular, a tall biker with his jacket worn open walking in with guns and grenades visible around his waist. Following behind him are four other bikers, dressed in all black, helmets and all, not a bit of skin exposed. Each has a large red number on their helmet, 39, 17, 33 and 20, each of varying shapes and sizes. Mortimer holds up a hang, appearing strangely friendly with his smile in such a place, going to sit at the bar as his men go to sit at their own table and talk amongst themselves. He is alone!
As it so happens, Cardinal's there to have a drink and think about things… because, right now, he's got a hell of a lot to think about. So it's at a table near the back that he's settled in, feet kicked up onto the table and chair tilted back, a brown glass bottle without a label in his hand as he drinks the excuse for beer. As the gang enters, he tilts his head a bit, regarding them through his shades as they file in.
Asking specifically for a non-alcoholic beer, Mortimer grabs his large mug and stands up, looking around, then spots Cardinal and immediately walks over. He's snickering when he sits down and places his mug in front of him, at first seeming to pretend Cardinal isn't there, but then he says, "Had to get something non-alcoholic, don't wanna go crazy and kill everyone or something, Staten has its limits." he jokingly says, though a look he gives Cardinal seems to suggest he has an air of seriousness in his tone.
A single brow lifts slowly over the edge of Cardinal's shades, the expression upon the man's face frankly dubious. "….right," he allows after a moment, the bottle tilted back to take a swig of the beer, "Well, then, by all means. Wouldn't want you getting dangerous."
"You interested in something fun?" Mortimer casually asks, staying vague as he takes a sip of his non-alcoholic beer. "I'm gathering people outside of my gang for something big, total chaos. I'm not allowed to say any details, but it'll either help a lot of people or hurt a lot of people, depending on how you look at it." He grins, his eyes suddenly turning completely silver as he stares directly into Cardinal's, though he doesn't appear to be doing anything in particular. "If you help me, my entire gang of forty will owe you a favor."
At the gleam of silver, Cardinal's brow crooks just a little higher. He regards the other man for a moment, then vaguely gestures with the bottle towards him. "…I don't do anything without details," he replies casually, "You even know who I am, or you just approachin' people at random?"
"Random, that's how I do things." Mortimer laughs, leaning in to get a closer look. "You're mysterious, that black hood looks good on you, makes you look like a reaper." he says, even though Cardinal is clearly not wearing some kind of reaper robe. "I can't tell you the complete details, it might compromise the mission, but we're gonna free a lot of innocent people, while killing a whole lot of bad people." Of course, if he knows for sure, is lying, or even believes what he's saying is not really apparent, he just says everything in a casually breezy way.
The mention of the 'black hood' garners a bemused tilt of Cardinal's head, though the dark shades prevent his eyes from being seen — probably a good thing. When he continues on, then, he grunts thoughtfully against the bottle in his hand. "Company?" A quiet question, murmured against the beer.
"Oooh…" This earns a highly amused grin from Mortimer. Sorry Adam, he didn't tell, Cardinal guessed. "You know what it is?" he asks, moving in closer, speaking in more of a whisper now. "That make you wanna help me more, or less?"
"I'm no fan of the Men in Black," Cardinal admits, just before the bottle's tilted back and he drinks the contents; thumping it off to one side, he shrugs a shoulder slightly, "I might be persuaded to lend a hand. You paying anything, or just 'a favor'? Man's gotta pay his bills."
"I don't do things for money, all my men have day jobs and careers, we work for fun, tits, and parts. But I could ask my boss for some money, maybe. You don't get to know who he is." Mortimer sternly states, clearly not intending to give that information. He begins to down his drink, sighing as he continues to stare with those silvery eyes. "A favor can be anything, but I can try to get money after the mission, if you live through it. You have to free as many people as possible, that'll be your objective, and watch out for any explosions. We're gonna blow as much of that place up as possible. You can get people to help, but don't tell them about the Company unless they already know."
"Anyone that I'd ask along already knows about them," Cardinal says with a vague gesture of one hand as he leans back from the emptied beer, arms folding over his chest and a wry smile just-touching his lips, "Sure, why not… sounds like fun, and I wouldn't mind stickin' it to those sons of bitches."
"Good! Here's a list of suggested supplies, but you get extra points if you live without them." Mortimer digs into his jacket, then pulls out a white piece of paper, which appears to be a copy of something hand-written. It's offered to Cardinal, and says:
Super Secret Mission Supply List
Grenades/Thermite/Fire Bombs/Time Activated Explosives/Any Explosives
Gas Masks and clothing with no exposed skin.
Guns, lots of guns, all automatics, maybe some high caliber semi-automatics.
The will to kill!
The paper's taken in hand, and Cardinal reads it with a rather dubious expression. After a moment, he glances up from it to the other man, seeming rather… wary, "…bio-chemical?"
"Itching powder grenade, made it myself." Mortimer reaches down and unclips one, holding it up. They all look the same of course, so it's hard to tell if there's anything strange about it. "Makes a loud boom just like a real one, but there's no force, it just explodes lots of itching powder. Confuses people, they don't expect it. Won't get into your clothes if you stay covered." He casually rolls it over to Cardinal, clip still on of course. "My gift to you." he offers with a smile, eyes suddenly turning blue again.
"Tarantula hair, mm?" The home-made grenade's caught up from the table, and Cardinal turns it to one side and the other, seeming grudgingly impressed, "Interesting concept… definately sow some confusion."
"All my grenades do something different, never know when I'm gonna use the real exploding one, they all look the same." Mortimer puts all his weight on to his elbows on the table, staring down into his beer. "I'm thinking of buiding something to interfere with their generator for an hour or two, if you knock out a block's electricity for a place like that, they're gonna have a generator. We might be able to get the cells open that way, and they'll be too busy with the chaos to be really prepared for us." He frowns for a moment, looking up at Cardinal. "The problem is, I can't do anything unless I know what kind of generator they have, and can see the same kind up close."
"I can get the doors open," Cardinal replies confidently, his head shaking just a little, "Especially if they're controlled electronically and remotely. You won't need to worry about that."
"Good, that's how we can start, you start opening cells, alarms go off, they get distracted, they we bust in and started shooting 'em up." Mortimer, suddenly happy again, laughs before downing the rest of his beer. "My name's Mortimer." Reaching into his pocket, he offers Cardinal a black business card with red writing.
The Locos
Leader: Mortimer Phone: XXX-XXX-XXXX
Senior (Surviving Original) Members: 21 and 24 Phone: XXX-XXX-XXXX and XXX-XXX-XXXX
We Work For Fun, Tits, and Parts.
The card's taken, a hint of amusement twisting to Cardinal's lips. "I haven't seen any tits yet," he observes, tucking the card into an inner pocket of his jacket, "Bad advertisement."
"I don't just carry tits around with me, but the guy who hired me for this mission promised. I'll just kill him if he doesn't deliver." Mortimer says with a shrug, starting to look over at the bar, possibly contemplating another drink. "I'm still looking for a woman I can call the first lady of the Locos, someone I can just blow things up with, but right now I'll just settle for loose women and tits."
Looking back to Cardinal, he casually nods. "Don't forget, ask your friends to help. I have forty guys to work with, so if you get an easy way to get them inside, just give me a call. I'll take as many updates as possible."
"I'll see who I can get," Cardinal says with a slight nod, "Infiltration's my gig, but I normally do that alone… we'll see what I can dredge up." A smile crooks to his lips, "Just hope you've got a good plan, boyo."
"Good enough." Mortimer confidently says, his plan surely not being 'run in, get out, find that 21 and 24 miraculously survive while everyone else is dead, and then go have cake and expensive Adam-hookers'. "Nice talking with you, call any time." Then, eyes going silver. "And do something about that whole black robe thing."
"Uh huh." Cardinal leans back in his chair with a soft creak, "Talk to you soon, then."