Crazy Eights


mortimer_icon.gif lola_icon.gif

Scene Title Crazy Eights
Synopsis In which Mortimer learns that Cassidy is alive and…alive, and Lola gets a job offer and a new, shiny rifle.
Date September 11, 2009

Mortimer's Hideout

There's men with glasses serving drinks. Sunglasses, even.

After a call from Lola, Mortimer gave her an address deep in the Rookery… well, not so much an address and more a general street. The street itself is quite rundown, near some old forgotten bomb shelters in a neighborhood of lots of condemned buildings. Where ever she's come to, she's definitely not in a place where people think it's safe to loiter, let alone live, like some invisible border keeps them away and turns the surrounding few blocks into a ghost town.

"Lil creeper can' even have a real apartment ta meet me in….or a bar or somethin'. Even I've got an apartment," Much to Adam Monroe's displeasure. He hates her place. Lola's wandering down the street in ass-tight jeans, a tank top and a light jacket, her hair pulled up tight. She doesn't appear scared per say - she spent most of her life in crappy neighborhoods. Not as bad as this one, but bad enough to make her quasi-comfortable here as she wanders along. She's about two seconds from calling Mortimer back and demanding he take her to the Four Seasons or some other resteraunt in NYC that she's heard about on TV.

Sitting on top of a bread truck, swinging his legs early in the evening, Mortimer is wearing a buttoned up dark grey trenchcoat, a pair of neatly fitting blue jeans, and some black boots with matching gloves. He smiles down at her, jumping from the truck and landing with bent knees and his arms spread out. Stick the landing! "Lola Bunny. Any word from Coren?" he asks quite casually, though there's a hint of something almost hopeful behind it.

Lola doesn't jump or start when he lands, she just crosses her arms and cocks her hip. "Yeah, he'n his lady are fine. I got ta kill that serial killer a yers, though. He ain' got a head no more, so I'm figurin' he ain' gonna be doin' much more killin'." She streaches her arms above her head, yawning, letting her tongue lol out of her mouth like a kitten. "I've also discovered that I hate airplanes."

"You killed him? He didn't get tortured or… forget it, he's dead, Cassidy's alive." Before one can even think, Mortimer's suddenly rushed over to wrap his arms around her. "Thanks, Lola." he says dead seriously, breaking his typical demeanor. But, soon enough, "Now that that's over, I've got an offer for you!"

Lola yelps. "Ah! Barriers! Barriers!" she exclaims, not so much minding that he's in them, but that she doesn't know him and she can't stop him from picking her pockets because her arms are pinned at her sides in the hug. And, more importantly, she can't pick his pockets. But as soon as he lets her go, she dusts herself off, straightening her top. "Another offer? Ya got someone else what needs kilt?"

"I want you to be the leader of the female Locos division! I'm calling them the Crazy Eights." Mortimer spreads his arms out, as if to present the entire area to her. "This area is my primary territory, my actual base is hidden. No other gangs are stupid enough to come here and refugees stay away too. This is all mine, and I'm willing to give you control of your own force and a portion of my territory! We'll have Linderman behind us too, so we can do whatever we want and no one can do anything about it!"

Oddly enough, it's not a bad offer. "Subject ta yer will an testement, I'm assumin?" the woman drawls, smriking as she crosses her arms and cocks her hip again. She could definatly lead her own group of amazons through NYC. "Aww, you work fer Mistah Daniel too? I oughta see what he thinks a all this - but I ain' gonna lie, never run a gang 'er nothin' before." She's never run much of anything before.

"You're perfect! You're not a serial killer or some other boring thing, you're just you, you know how to have fun!" Mortimer holds his hands out for her's, as if he wants to dance. "Running a gang is easy. You understand what your members want, and you make sure they believe you can give it to them. My Locos are usually men, young and old, who are either bored with life or want something more, like that movie Fight Club! So what you need…" He pauses, looking up for the answer of the perfect female gang member. "Stepford wives! You need stepford wives to twist and mold into the perfect little fun machines! Don't worry, I'll do the twisting and molding for you."

Lola 'Bunny' as he called her, wrinkles her nose at the thought of being a serial killer. "Yer gonna mold an shape a buncha girls, huh? How come I'm feelin' more like a madame now, an yer my pimp or somethin?" It does feel slightly off, the way he says it. Besides, she doesn't know any women like her. "An what do ya do wif yer men?"

"We don't work for profit, we work for fun! Profit creates jealousy, envy, a rift in power! Once people learn to do things for fun, they become ravenously loyal!" Mortimer hunches down so he's eye level with her, smiling and staring. "We do all sorts of things. Sometimes one of my men will have something they always wanted to do, like open up an ice cream shop, or kidnap their jerk boss and beat him up. Sometimes we assassinate for Linderman in exchange for resources, oh, and we take out non-Linderman affiliated gangs too! But we don't have silly gang works, we just blow their places up and kill whoever is left. Yup, we've got it good, and I think you'll like the base if you agree to join."

"I'm assumin' ya won' be cryin' no tears if I suggest takin' out some HF bastards might be on mah own agenda?" Lola asks, fixing her shirt just so. "Got some…issues with them, don' really think Mistah Daniel'll mind terribly. That's what I want, anyway. Fer fun," she clarifies at the end, just to make sure it fits into his crazy way of thinking. "An as fer the killin' folk…I ain' well sure how I fit into that yet, but we kin see."

"Never hurts to kill a few Humanis First members! I used to be Evolved, after all." Mortimer starts heading down the street, motioning his arm for her to follow. "But that's what the Locos are all about, my Southern Belle. An agenda never hurt anyone! But remember, it's always more fun to destroy the world than to take it over, that's why those
old cartoon villains never made sense to anyone, they were crazy!"

"I ain a villin, or nothin' like that." Lola clarifies as she lets her arms fall and walks to follow Mortimer. "So…ya know yer a little bit of a creeper, right?" She asks, making sure he's aware of this fact before any further. "Little off the deep end an all a that."

"As far as I can tell I haven't gotten laid in three months, but I may have been a little crazy before that." Mortimer laughs quite maniacally after that, stopping at a long wall near a basement door on the ground. "Oh yeah, that reminds me. For some reason I have this other me in my head, so sometimes you might see me acting like a book reading pussy who can't kill anything. That guy's not a representation of the real me, so if I have any chance of getting you in bed, don't let other me ruin it."

Super. The man really is crazy. But still, it sounds like a good opportunity for some excitement - something Lola's always keen on. "Sorry sugar, I'm a one man kinda woman, an you don' seem the type to keep it in yer pants." She pauses by the side of the door, looking at it thoughtfully. "Well, if there's ever a nuclear war, t'll be you an the roaches what make it," She notes at the thought of an underground base.

"I could keep it in my pants for a woman like you! Crazy but not too crazy, like this man eating woman I met once. Who's this boyfriend of yours?" Mortimer asks, sounding just a tad jealous as he opens the doors to some stairs that lead down into a dimly light tunnel, going both left and right with a slightly damp floor. "I bet I could take him. If I kill him will you date me?"

"I ain' got one. Well I ain' got one, there's a fellah that might disagree," but she is slowly starting to figure out Adam Monroe. Demanding information for drugs? She's kicking herself for not having seen it sooner. "An oddly enough, he can' die, so I doubt you could take him." But the fact remains that she's not dating him. Peering into the hole, she doesn't seem to mind the dirt, mess, and damp of a dark tunnel. After all, she chooses to live on Staten.

"I'd kill him until he dies. Never met anyone who survived being split in half, and if that doesn't work, diced into little bits and then set on fire." Mortimer closes the doors behind them, then takes the right tunnel, casually walking with his hands in his coat pockets. "Alright then, since you're a southern belle, from now on, I'm courting you until you go out with me. Won't even touch another woman, and that's saying a lot coming from me."

Lola can't help but chuckle a little bit. She does believe Adam could take this guy, but still, that's not the point. Hey, if he can manage to stay celibate while chasing her? Now that's sweet. In a creepy way, coming from Mortimer, but sweet none the less. "Alright, sugar. We'll see how long ya last. How' long's this tunnel 'o creep? Feel like I'm waitin' fer a glow in the dark skeleton to pop out n' grab me."

"There," Mortimer points ahead of them, to a door that looks as if it's about as thick as a vault. In contrast to the rest of the tunnel, which is quite narrow, it's possibly one of the most advanced looking doors one could have. "I miss when I could build things like this door and my arm. Alright, open up!" he yells to the camera, which appears to be trying to stare down Lola's shirt.

"What's the password?" a voice asks from an unseen speaker.

"Open up or I'll impale your head on a pipe!" he carifies, then the cranking of large mechanical gears can be heard, loud clicking, and finally some steam for good measure. The door opens into something that's a mixture of a lounge and a sports bar, as if they're running some sort of swanky business. There's dozens of televisions lined up in rows along the walls and around the large square bar in the middle of the room. There's expert carpeting, a throne in the back of the lounge, and a few randomly placed doors. But for now, none of the other members are anywhere to be seen. This place has everything one could need for living down here forever. And… clank goes the door as it shuts behind them.

Lola's rather fascinated with the door herself, as they approach it she kneels down beside it, tapping it a few times. "This could take a gal years ta bust into," she notes, gnawing on her lower lip. If she's going to be spending time down here, that's exactly what she's going to work on doing, too. If she can bust into a door like this, there's no door to stop her.

She steps back as the door opens, stepping inside and looking around. "Nice password," she comments with a dry smirk, stepping in a little deeper. "How'd ya find this place?"

"Me and my men built it. I told you they were all business men, they can afford stuff like this when they put their money together. I built the more advanced stuff. This place used to be some secret bomb shelter. Wanna see something else I built before I lost my ability?" Mortimer asks as he sits at the bar and a rather large man in all black biker gear, with sunglasses that have a red number 7 printed on the left lens. "What'll you two be having? And this girl's hot. She's only the second female who's been in this place!"

Looking up at the man, Mortimer reaches up to grab his collar, smiling the whole time, though it's one of those smiles that says he might just kill someone. "Please, address her as a lady, a woman , or a belle. She's not a girl." With the release of the man's collar, he adds, "And I'll have scotch."

Lola smiles sweetly. She likes it here! She's treated all fancy, even if the place is not too fancy to make her dress up or whatever. Good balance. "I'll take a bud," she says simply, though she does quirk an eyebrow at the man behind the bar. "An who was the first lady that's been here?" She asks, wanting more information. She'll answer Mortimer's question about something he built in a minute. Right now, she's probing.

"I was only getting scotch to impress you. I'll take what she's having." Mortimer rests an elbow on the table, chin in his hand, idly eyeing one of the TVs since she's occupied with the tender. "Oh! Boss' last girlfriend, the cop, Cassi—" He stops talking the second there's a glare from his boss, then Mortimer's eyes avert to Lola's. "That cop woman you saved, I was dating her. You can't tell anyone or it'll ruin her job." He smiles again, sitting up as two mugs of beer are placed on the counter. "So, enough about her," a subject he's apparently avoiding every time he starts to get serious. "Tell me about you!"

That’s fine, if he's so desperate to change the subject she won't mention how Cassidy apparently has some serious PTSD, or that her partner's head over heels for her. Nope, subject change. "There ain' nothin' to talk about with me." Lola explains with a dismissive tilt of her beer, turning it upward and taking a few gulps of it. So maybe she doesn't sip like a lady ought to. Who's judging? "Thought ya were gonna show me somethin' fancy."

"Oh yeah!" Mortimer starts unbuttoning his coat, then hands it to the Loco behind the bar to hang up. Under his coat he was wearing his light-blue denim shirt, which he promptly starts to unbutton. "I assure you, I'm not getting naked, unless you ask nicely, or not-so-nicely, whatever you choose." Shirt unbuttoned, he removes it and his gloves, revealing that everything below his left elbow is robotic. It's a kind of bronze color, with a thin metallic shell around it, and thin straps that wrap around his neck and chest to keep the weight from straining his arm. Through the little openings in the outer shell of the arm, she can see thousands of little gears flipping and switching as he moves the individual fingers for her. "One day I plan to get a real arm back, but this'll have to do for now. I built it when I had my ability."

"Don' worry, sugar, I ain' askin' at all," she drawls, putting his fear of him asking ot strip at rest. She watches with raised brows as he reveals his robo-arm, and she snorts a little laugh. "Shit, it's like watchin' Terminator or somethin'," she murmers, reaching out to flick the metal with her index finger. "Kin ya like, crush shit with it, or throw shit like the Bionic man?"

"I don't have super strength, but I can crush and punch plenty." Mortimer moves to poke her shoulder with his finger, showing that it's not all that bad! "But I can't play guitar, that's what I hate about this arm, and that's why I need to get a new human arm grown. Until I can play guitar again, I'm not complete. You understand that?"

"Guitar, growing limbs, gotcha," Lola says, saluting him with her beer and downing it in the third gulp. Yes, downing. She lets out a nice burp and lets the bottle set on the table, tapping as though she were asking for another hit on a black jack game. "Nother round, sugar," she murmers sweetly to the tender. "I kin get used ta this. Free booze n' everythin,"

Mortimer seems to have quite a few scars too, suggesting that he's obviously no stranger to fighting, getting shot, burned, stabbed, and a host of other things, but any scars he has, even the bad, ones, seem quite well-tended, so they turned out more cool than disfiguring. He starts sliding his shirt back on, buttoning it up as he leans over to sip from the edge of his beer with no hands. "You're gonna be the female leader, you can have anything you want. With the exception of 21 and 24, if anyone pisses you off, shoot 'em in the head."

"We'll see," Lola's only killed twice in her life. It's a new sensation, and she doesn't want to go rushing into it any more than she has to. Sure, she'd like to ease into it. But not rush. "Though yer fellah kin stop watchin' TV an git me another beer any time. Say ya'll got darts or somethin' round here, games like that? Betcha I kin beat anyone ya put in front a me." She says, smirking at the idea of playing for money among thugs and gangs. Why? Because she knows she'll win.

"S-sorry ma'am!" The man quickly takes her mug, refilling it, sitting it in front of her, then even offers a jar of peanuts.

Mortimer laughs, pointing at a dart board placed on a random wall not far from the bar, then stands up and walks over to start collecting them. "I'll play. What're we betting? And you can hit that guy if he's getting on your nerves."

Lola takes her drink (and the peanuts - her munchies!) to follow Mortimer toward the board. "I dunno. Watcha got that I want? What do I got that you want?" She asks, grinning. "We kin always bet drinks, if both of us is as borin' as all that." She giggles, taking another deep sip of her beer. Speaking of drinks, this girl can put 'em away!

"You got everything I want." Mortimer is quick to point out, giving her a once over as he offers her five darts. "How about I let you choose one thing out of that room. It's full of little gadgets I invented, but I don't know how to use most of it anymore. Maybe you'll find something interesting."

"Alright, sounds fair. I win, I get a new toy. You win…well, what's it matter?" She sticks out her tongue playfully at the insane man. "Ya ain' gonna win. I'll even go so far as ta say I'll sleep with ya if ya do win." Very high stakes now, Mortimer Jack! "Do ya wanna go first?"

"I'll go first!" Mortmer eagarly agrees, standing across from the board. He tries to focus very hard, throwing each dart one by one, but they mostly only get around the target, no real bullseyes there. "Finally gonna get laid, it's about time."

"One, two, three, four, five," Lola counts out as each dart is thrown, each one hitting around the inside circle of the bulls eye. She has tothrow them hard, each tail is ruffled as another dart tries to squeeze in there. But, they all make it. Looking smug as could be, Lola turns to Mortimer. "So where do I pick out my new shiny?"

"I think I just died a little inside." Mortimer says with great disappointment, but leads her to another metal door, this one more like a regular door, just made of metal. He unlocks it and walks in, sitting on the rather large bed. There's a computer at a desk, a flat panel TV on the wall, and loads of shelves of strange gadgets, things like guns with toasters on the end of the barrel, and a Rubix cube that keeps solving and unsolving itself every few minutes. The room is pretty small, basically a bedroom. "Choose whatever you want, I'm just gonna sit here, not getting laid." Sore loser, super sore! But he doesn't sound terribly serious about it.

Lola walks to the wall and begins browsing like a debutante at an art gallery. She ignores the man on the bed, and tries to hide her smirk. She loves doing that. It's fun every time. She begins to wander, picking things up and putting them down. "Got any guns?" She finally asks, not sure what most of this stuff is. "I could use a good gun, rifle maybe if ya make them."

"I built a rifle once, for this guy named Dutch, but he wouldn't use it, preferred his own stuff. My rifle was way better than anything he had, insane scope range." Mortimer stands up, digging through his things, then pulls out a rifle with a scope that's so long it seems to line up with the length of the gun. "Coudn't tell you how to use it, I forgot how guns work when I lost my ability." But of course, she'll be able to tell how to use it, and it is an impressive piece of equipment. "Here."

Lola grins, reaching forward. "Excellent," a better sight means she can see further, which means she can hit more. This is too awesome. "We oughta play that game more often," She says, literally hugging the gun. Her first rifle. She's in business!

"I'm never playing that game again, I'd never get laid at that rate." Mortimer decides, then opens the door for her. "Let's go get drunk, I've got nothing better to do yet. Well, I could be out killing Humanis First, but I need to get my numbers back up."

Rifle in tow, Lola makes her way to follow him out into the main room again. She's so excited! And she may have stolen something off the shelf. But who's looking, anyway? Who is checking her pockets?! No one!

"I spoze we kin do that. I gotta go find that Coren fellah an get him to take a looksee over this gun ta help me make it work, later, though. So not too much."

Mortimer takes a seat at his bar, finally getting to chug down his beer. "Before I get too drunk, remember, if you see anyone you want working for you, recruit them, or at east tell me about them." he suggests, waiting for her to take a seat.

Lola settles down in the seat beside him, finishing her own drink and requesting a third from "7" behind the bar. "Don't worry, sugar. I got my eyes open," she promises with a mischevious smirk.

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