First Date


adam_icon.gif veronica_icon.gif

Scene Title First Date
Synopsis Adam confronts Veronica and demands some answers, then things get rough.
Date May 24, 2009

Some Bar in Brooklyn

Veronica is not on duty — though of course a girl like her is always on duty in a way. She heads into a bar of no particular fame or repute, looking for some solace in the bottom of a martini. A quick skim of the interior reveals no one she knows, which is just fine with her. She heads to the bar, stepping up onto a stool and leaning on the counter until the bartender comes her way. "Extra dirty martini," she says in her husky voice, a slight smile for the handsome tender so that she gets better service.

Adam had caught scent of the agent close to the bar, he was actually on his way home. He pauses near the entrance and then slips into the bar quietly. And there she is, bingo. He slips his gun from his holster in his jacket and keeps it covered, he steps towards the bar slowly and slips in behind the agent, pressing the gun into her back. He leans in to her ear and says, "I would like for us to have a booth, back there. Take your drink."

Oh, shit. Monroe. And here she is off duty, her guns useless in the holsters beneath her jacket, no way to get them. She frowns. "Drink's on him," she tells the bartender, so that he knows she's not trying to duck out of paying. Of course, that's the least of her worries right now. She picks up the martini when it gets set down and nods to the bartender. "I'll tell him to tip large," with a wink, and she slips carefully of the barstool and turns to head to the booth Adam indicated.

Adam leans into Veronica, keeping the gun at the small of her back. He smiles as he walks towards the booth. And then he slips easily into his seat and slips the gun under the table, "Your badge and your cell phone." he says, indicating the surface of the table.

Veronica frowns and slides her HomeSec badge onto the table along with a Blackberry. There's no way to get to the guns, and it's not like the handgun will do any good — the tranquilizer gun could come in handy, of course. "What do you want?"

Her name on his lips causes her to shiver. "That's what I had in mind, yes, but then you came along," she says, her whiskey-brown eyes narrowing as she stares into his face. "Are you stalking me or something? Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? I'm the one who should be coming after you."

Adam mms, "You'd think so." he says as he leans back. He picks up the blackberry and starts flipping through the contacts. He pauses as he says, "Well, I was always the unconventional sort, Veronica." he leans back ,"Who was that guy you were with when you came to rescue Agent Dahl?"

The phone has very limited contacts, with no information other than first names and sometimes intitials: Joe, Ann, Bob, JR, B, Ray (for Ray's Pizza). It's actually her private phone, with no messages or information from the company on it. "The agent I came with? I arrived at the same time as some other guy, but I don't know who it was. We're not all on first name basis, actually. He's from another bureau," she says, with a shrug of her shoulders.

Veronica can hear the click of his pistol under the table, "Don't play with me, Veronica. You know I would open fire, you know I would. I just want us to have a pleasant conversation and how can we do that if you lie to me?" he looks up quietly as he passes the phone along. "Slip your guns across the table under the napkin."

"I can't hurt you. Why take my gun? It's not like using it does me any good," she says with a frown furrowing her brows. She reaches behind herself under her jacket and removes the weapon. She sighs and picks up the cloth napkin with her other hand, and passes the gun to him as he asks. If looks could kill, however, he'd be bleeding out right about now from the look she gives him.

Adam smiles once the guns are on his side of the table. He tilts his head, "So, tell me about yourself, Veronica. Where are you from?" he pauses, "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

She taps her untouched martini. Somehow drinking alcohol at the moment doesn't seem like a good idea. "I'm fine, thanks," she says. "I'm from California originally. Why do you care?" she asks.

Adam chuckles in response, "Because this is small talk." he says, "That's what people do on a first date. Would you rather talk about work?" he questions, "Who's in charge nowadays? Sabra? Is Bob back?"

She sighs. "I don't know any of those people, Mr. Monroe. I'm not privileged or classified enough and you know it. You're not going to get a lot of information from me, not because I'm not cooperative but because I simply don't know what you want to know. I don't even know the name of the guy who came in at the same time I did, and that's the truth. I can name by face maybe…" she ticks off fingers, "four, five, maybe six other agents, because I don't actually work in the office most of the time. So really, please tell me what you want me to know so I can go home and forget that you ruined my night off."

Adam glances under the napkin for a moment and says, "Where is your tranq gun, Veronica?" he questions, passing the napkin back over, "Please, don't make this get hostile. We were just having a good time." he pauses and asks, "Do you know Roger Goodman?"

"You only said a gun. I gave you the one that most people would assume you meant," she says, tossing her hair back out of her eyes. "Your idea of a good time and mine are certainly different, Mr. Monroe. Did you consider killing my friend a good time, I wonder?" Her voice is icy. "Yes, I know Goodman." Know. Knew. It's no time for semantics.

Adam shrugs a bit, "I really have no feelings one way or another about killing your good friend. She fired upon me, and so I defended myself." he nods towards the napkin, "Your tranq gun." he says with more determination, "What do you know of Roger Goodman?"

God. Len is going to kill her. She reaches to the other side to remove the unloaded tranq gun out of her holster. She passes it to him under another napkin. "Goodman. Tells me what to do. I do it. That's about all I know about him. He's been out of the country a bit. Might still be. We've got someone else telling us what to do right now, so I don't really know."

Adam nods thoughtfully, "Don't trust Goodman." he says, not knowing that this is already old news, "He's a shady individual." he mms, "And who tells you what to do now?" he questions.

Veronica scowls. Really, she looks a bit like a petulant teenager as she glares at him, handicapped by the fact he has all the guns and that he's basically invincible. "Guy named Albert Paulson," she says. "Why do you say Goodman is shady?"
Adam tilts his head, "Because Goodman is a double agent, of course." he pauses a moment, "Now your wallet." he says, "Unless you'd rather give me your panties." he says with a chiding smile, "This is almost over."

"And how do you know that? And if he was, wouldn't you… agree with that sort of double agent work?" she asks before adding, "I don't have a wallet on me. Just the badge and some cash. No purse, see?" Veronica nods to either side of her. True, she's in sleek black pants with no tell-tale bulges of wallets, and a sweater that doesn't look like it has room to hide anything either.

Adam hmms at the show, "You are a pretty bird, Veronica." he says. "Well, I should shoot you just out of principle, I know you've lied to me. But instead, I'm just going to get you in trouble with your bosses." he pulls the tranq gun into his jacket. After that, he opens the back of the blackberry and steals the battery. There's another pause before he unloads Veronica's pistol and pops the final bullet out of the chamber, but in order to do this, he has to lay his gun on the booth so he can use both hands to pull the slide back.

While he takes the battery out, her foot inches up, noticing where his hand moved to set down the gun. As he removes the ammo from her gun, her foot pulls the gun backward, to get it to fall to the cramped space under the table — it won't be easily reachable, due to the wrought iron table legs. Her hand flashes out simultaneously to grab her gun before he can reload it, and to smash upwards against his face with that hand, to pistol-whip him if she can.

As the bullet flips out of the chamber, he doesn't even seem to think her grabbing it is an option. She takes the barrel of the gun and smashes his face. There's a crunch that occurs somewhere in his face and some blood does spill, but as he looks back at her with an astonished gaze, his face is as pretty as ever. His right hand reaches for her wrist while his left hand reaches inside his jacket

Oh, hell no. She turns her wrist in a way that it won't hurt her much but should cause his to bend at an awkward and painful angle — if she can just get it to the painful enough stage that he lets go before he grabs whatever is in the jacket… Her foot rises again to jam at an even more painful spot between his legs — if she makes contact.

Protecting the jewels is the first thing every man learns in combat and Adam is no exception. When Veronica kicks out, she only makes contact with the inside of his knees, whereupon he quickly pushes both legs closed in an attempt to hold her foot. He does eventually let go of her wrist, but he's gotten what he needed out of his jacket, whatever it is, he's keeping it below eye level under the table.

She puts the gun in her jacket pocket — no way she can load it — and pulls backward with her foot to try to dislodge it. Of course some people are starting to notice the skirmish. "Call 9-1-1… Tell them it's Monroe," Veronica hisses to people as they back away. No doubt that will hit some alerts in the system, at least those that the company agents pretending to be police detectives put into the works. "Don't let him out…" But it's a bar in New York, and most people just… stare. No one seems to move for a phone.

After a second, the foot is dislodged, it's not really easy to capture a foot between the knees and hold it. But it has given him valuable time to reach forward and suddenly, with his right hand having grabbed what was in the left, she can see what he went for…a handheld taser! And it's zapping electricity between its teeth as he tries to shock her with it. In the neck even.

"What'd she say? It's who?" a couple of people murmur, watching. The bartender stands with wide eyes, one hand on the phone, but he hasn't lifted the receiver to his ear yet. Both her hands grab his wrist, catching him just a moment before that taser makes contact with her neck. While she's got a couple of black belts, neither of the martial arts she knows is designed for fighting inside a restaurant booth, and while skill can help overcome a size difference, with two skilled fighters, size matters. She puts all her force into turning that arm aside, letting go for a moment with one hand to chop at the underside of the arm in a desperate attempt to get him to drop the taser.

In a dojo, or in a fair fight, Veronica could likely make short work of Adam. But, this isn't a dojo, and this isn't a fair fight. In fact, the very environment works towards his advantage, because he's been in hundreds, perhaps thousands of bar fights. While his right arm struggles, his other hand grabs Veronica's martini glass and tosses it roughly into her face as he tries with all his might to hold onto the taser which continues to make its electricity sound.

Vodka in the eyes (not to mention the olives and the glass itself) hurt. Veronica cries out, wiping her eyes with the free hand, and of course the one hand that still held onto Adam's arm lets up just a touch. But just a touch is enough. Just a touch is enough for him to gain that last inch, inch and a half, for that crackling taser gun to make contact with her skin.

Adam presses forward with the taser, his thumb pressed onto the button and sends fifty thousand volts of electricity through Veronica's body. The teeth start at the wrist, then he pulls back and presses them into her neck, buzzing her again, making sure she's completely out of sorts.

Veronica cries out as the taser makes contacts, her hand sliding off Adam's as her body trembles at the voltage. The second one has her lolling back in the seat, eyes rolled back for a moment. Now, finally, the bartender ducks under the bar to call the police.

Adam thinks quickly. He picks up Veronica's badge off the table and lifts it high, "It's alright everyone, FBI!" he puts the badge in his jacket, reaches down, gets his gun and takes Veronica's blackberry and tranq. And suddenly, he's on her, going through her jacket, taking her gun and whatever else he finds before he leans down and kisses her firmly on the lips, "Stupid, love, stupid."

Veronica's eyes narrow. She can't quite manage to get her arm up to slap him but she whispers, "Asshole," as he heads off with her belongings.

Adam hmms and reaches down and, in fact, steals the ring off of her finger just to add insult to injury. He stands, "It's alright everyone, calm down. You've just seen the takedown of a dangerous target. She works for the same terrorist group that blew up Manhattan!" he starts to make for the door, "I'm going to get my backup, everyone get ready to give a statement." he flashes Veronica's badge one more time and then leaves, never to return.

Goddamnit. She finally starts to regain feeling in her limbs and sits up. "Next time call 9-1-1 when a girl asks, you idiots," she swears, her legs trembling as she tries to put weight on them — like she just ran a marathon or something. "Why would I ask you to call 9-1-1 if I were the one who was a terrorist…" She reaches to her back pocket, not her jacket, where she keeps her work phone, and with trembling fingers calls to put out the "APB" on Adam, giving the address of the pub, though she knows it's far too late.

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