Gay Black Jewish Evolved


cardinal_icon.gif nataliya_icon.gif tuck_icon.gif

Scene Title Gay Black Jewish Evolved
Synopsis Tuck shows off his boner to Cardinal and Nataliya.
Date May 26, 2009

Tucker's Pawn Shop

Every shelf, every flat surface in the entire shop is covered with things. VCRs, DVDs, small pieces of machinery, cheap jewellery - all the kind of stuff worth little money. It's the merchandise that's not worth protecting, even here. If someone wants to steal a VHS copy of 'The Little Mermaid,' then so be it. The primary purpose of the clutter of items is a front - to distract from the fact that the real purpose of the shop is to sell stolen, high-value goods.
The front part of the shop with its knick-nacks and assorted low-value items is separated from the high value items by a counter and a layer of bulletproof glass. There is a slot beneath the window for exchange of money or small goods. At the base of the counter is a chute for larger items. Surveillance cameras keep a vigilant watch over every square inch.
There is a small arsenal of weapons up on a pegboard above the counter. Not just guns but knives, tasers, pepper spray, handcuffs, nightsticks, brass knuckles - all sorts of things meant to cause pain. There's a rotating case at the counter that holds many expensive jewellery pieces, including a few Rolexes and a large assortment of engagement rings. There are expensive cell phones, iPods, laptops and other various small electronics, including listening devices and CB radios. Just about anything worth stealing is displayed behind the glass and up on the walls. Many items however, are by special request. You gotta know what you're looking for.

The majority of Cardinal's movements through the city are in a form unseen to most, this evening. There's just too much chance of getting caught or held up with unimportant matters like muggers or some other harassment. He's got business to deal with.
That's why he doesn't walk, although at least he has the courtesy not to just appear in the midst of the shop. That'd lead to some awkward questions. So instead he steps out of the shadows in the alley behind the pawn shop, his mossberg braced up on one shoulder and a briefcase in the other as he steps along over to the door.

A motorcycle putters up to the curb by Tucker's Pawn Shop; Nataliya removes her helmet, shakes her ponytail out, and regards Cardinal with an amused look. "You again," she calls. She kills the engine.

A pause, Cardinal's head turning a bit towards the curb where Nataliya's parked. "Nat," he calls out, his tone casual, "Tuck call you, or he bein' a stubborn sonuvabitch today?"
"He did not," Nataliya says; she swings her leg over the bike to approach the shop, helmet tucked under her arm. "I show up uninvited, like all bad guests. If you call me Nat, I will call you Dick."

"Nataliya, then…" A hint of amusement there, though it's short-lived. Cardinal seems to be in a rather displeased mood at the moment, though at least the comment brings a brief twitch of his lips. Then his fist hammers on the door. "Open the door you crippled bastard. I told you to call your sister-in-law."

"Or Natasha," Nataliya tells Cardinal agreeably. She arches an eyebrow. Crippled?

There's no sound at first, then the distinctive screech of metal as Tuck pulls the bar on the big, heavy door. It rattles open to show a very displeased pawnie, sans glasses, with a fair bit of stubble on his cheeks and bags under his eyes. His hand is held behind his back.
"I fell asleep," is his lame excuse. "C'min."

"Natasha. I like that better," Cardinal allows. Then the door's pulled open, and he grunts, moving to walk along within and brush past the pawnie, the shotgun dropped down from his shoulder and tossed briefly, caught mid-point so it's no longer ready to be shot at anybody. "Alright. Let's see it. Your sister's behind me."

Nataliya turns sideways to slip in through the door after Cardinal, immediately suspicious. "Gilbert. What is going on?"

Tuck paces, but he does so in such a way that his hand remains behind his back. He looks pissed. And he's usually a fairly mellow guy. Hesitantly, he pulls his hand out from behind his back and pulls up the sleeve.
It looks freakish and twisted, white and gnarled with oddly placed joints. It's like his flesh has been turned to bone, fossilized, while past his wrist appears normal and healthy. "Some fucker working for Logan."

The briefcase is set on the table, the shotgun atop it before Cardinal takes a step over to check on the hand. At the sight of it, he grimaces, nose wrinkling up. "Motherfucker. Gettin' too big for his damn britches again… okay. I'll take care of this, Tucker." Grim, "Nobody fucks with my people."

Nataliya's dark eyes widen considerably. She steps toward Tuck, reaching toward his hand to try to take it. "…Which fucker?" she breathes. And, more quietly in Russian, "Holy shit, what the hell is this?"

"Um. Not that that doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy, Cardy. But since when am I one of 'your people?'" Tuck arches a brow. He flinches when Nataliya touches it, but he lets her. "Can't feel a damn thing. Doesn't hurt. Some Japanese kid with a goofy t-shirt pretended to want me to keep an eye out for black market nude pictures of himself." A beat, then, "I mean, what the fuck? What kind of fake story is that? Anyway. He grabbed my hand and did this to me. Said Logan wanted his money and then he'd fix it."

To Nataliya, he murmurs in poorly-accented Russian, "A pimp with a Napoleon complex." Cardinal will be able to understand 'Napoleon' despite the language shift.

"Don't complain, there's six grand in that briefcase that's paying off your debt," Cardinal replies curtly, leaning his hips against the desk and folding both arms over his chest. He frowns, brow furrowing a bit in thought, "Alright. What can you tell me 'bout this kid… did you get a name? Got any better description'n that?"

"Never get the expensive ones," Nataliya replies in Russian, expression contradicting the lightness of her words. Her lips press into a thin line; she rubs her thumbs across the back of Tuck's crippled hand before releasing, disturbed.

Tuck eyes the briefcase, then squints at Cardinal. "O-kay. I know you'n me get along pretty well there, Redbird. But what'm I going to owe you for this?" Yes, as a lifetime as a criminal, the concept of simply watching a friend's back is a bit foreign to him. There's always got to be a catch or something in it for the giver. So Card's got to have an angle. "And how much you wanna bet that this isn't gonna appease Logan? I mean, why call in a debt this size? I mean, shit. He had to know it wouldn't take me that long to raise the cash. He's gotta want something else from me."

He draws his hand back from Nataliya. The pawnie's clearly disturbed by his condition, despite how he's trying not to let it show. "Weighs a fucking ton too. My shoulder's starting to ache."

"I owe Logan another lesson," Cardinal says with a tight shake of his head, his voice stirred with anger as he drums fingertips over one bicep, "This gives me the chance to remind him that he's just a very little fish in a very big aquarium. Apparently, he's forgotten the last one already. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again, Tucker. Now." A brow lifts over the edge of his shades, "This 'bone maker'."

Nataliya glances between the two of them; her tone is sharp when she asks Tuck, again in Russian, "You said you trusted this guy. You really think you won't be owing him anything if he takes care of this guy for you?"

"He was a kid. Early twenties. Came at me in Shooters. Japanese, probably. Pretty sure." Tuck's jaw works to the side and he scratches his chin with his non-boned hand. He exhales and drops into an old la-z-boy. "Guessing he's a new hire of Logan's. I've never seen him before."
He glances to Nataliya and looks her in the eye. "There are worse people on this island for me to owe money to than this man, Tali. Besides. We do business."

"I think we killed most of his old… Evolved muscle, so he's got to be new," Cardinal's nostrils flare in a faint snort of breath, his head shaking tightly, "Should be enough to go by." The pair are watched as they speak, though he doesn't give any sign of whether or not he understands their discussion.

"I don't suppose you do business with Logan," is Nataliya's sharp reply to that. In Russian. Still. She drops back to English. "Nobody named Logan is ever not a jerk."

Tuck sets the deformed hand on the arm of the chair and tugs down the sleeve of his shirt as far as it will go. He doesn't like looking at it. "You can't be on this island and avoid Logan, Tali." He glances towards Cardinal for confirmation. Just ignore the part where his debt is from gambling and not his business deals. "I worry about a backdraft on this, Card. He could decide to firebomb the fuck out of my shop and there's nothing I could do to prevent it." That's the downside of having no cops on the island.

"I could put two bullets in the back of his head as he sleeps," Cardinal replies with a shrug of one shoulder, seemingly unconcerned, "I'll take care of Logan, Tucker. I know enough skeletons in his closet to get him the fuck off your back… and if he doesn't play ball, well." A snort, "I'm already in a bad fuckin' mood this week."

Nataliya steps away from Tuck after another sharp look; she plunks her helmet down on the card table and paces through the room, arms folded across her chest. "Seeing that hand, I almost hope he is not in the mood to play ball."

"Logan gest taken out and you and I both know there's crazier, more fucked up bastards ready to take his place." Like them? Ahahaha. Tuck makes a face. He glances from Nataliya over to Card. "I appreciate you having my back." He looks at the briefcase, then up to the thief. "I can pay you back."

"Just sign on with the plan we discussed already," Cardinal's chin tips up in a bit of a nod, "And I'll call it even. I really do need you, Tucker. 'Specially now. All hell's coming to New York City, and I know who I want on my side when it gets here."
Nataliya pauses, picking up a hunting knife from a display and glancing over her shoulder at the other two. "What, more hell?"

Ah-hah. So there's the angle. Tuck makes a face. He's good at making faces. "Fuck. I wish I had some assurance that Logan wasn't going to turn more of me into bone when I go to give this to him." Or worse. He glances sidelong at Nataliya. "Oh, the hell's only getting deeper, punkin. Welcome back to Staten."

"You're not," Cardinal shakes his head tightly, "I'll have someone deliver it to him. Possibly including our little japanese friend's hand, if I'm feeling particularly pissy at the time…" The woman gets a wry look, and he notes, "Neither of you watch the news, do you?"

"I've been here the whole time," Nataliya snaps at Tuck. She shifts her grip on the knife. "If it's on the news - I assume you mean Humanity First - I assume it's already part of the hell I am familiar with. Do you mean newer hell than what's to come with that fight or not?"

"So how'm I gonna get my hand fixed then?" Tuck holds up the bony appendage. "I gotta go into his den if I want to get this fixed." He doubts Satoru would just drop by. Cause Tuck'd probably shoot him. He arches both brows at Nataliya. "Well you were hiding from me, sweets. How was I supposed to know?" He lolls his head to the side and cracks his neck. "Damn surprised this stuff with Humanis First didn't start long before now."

"There's a guy, in Little Italy…" Cardinal digs a card out of his jacket, sliding it over on the table, "…Chuck Pepper, runs a clinic. Go see him, he might be able to fix it. If not, well, I'll make sure this little Japanese punk does it…" His expression darkens further, "Yeah, well, they've tossed a fuckin' match in the powder keg now."

"It was long overdue," Nataliya says darkly; she turns her back to them again, puts her knife back, picks up another and runs her thumb along the edge.

Tuck leans his head back and stares up at the dull paint of his ceiling and buzzing flourescent lights. "What's a doctor going to do? Other than saw my goddamn hand off?" It's his right hand too. How's he supposed to play poker?

"Just trust me for once, Tuck," Cardinal gives his head a tight little shake, before slanting a look over to Nataliya. One brow lifts, and he asks curiously, "Oh? What's your take on it all, Natasha?"

Nataliya looks over at them again. "What is my take on what? Humanis First?"

Tuck continues to stare up at the ceiling, face contorted. "Wish he'd just broken my fucking nose. Or a few fingers. What kind of fucking fucked up person ruins the use of a guy's hand over a couple of grand?" A man like Logan, who cut out a girl's tongue, obviously.

"Yeah," Cardinal's head bobs in a slight nod, "You mentioned it was overdue? Jus' wondering what your whole… take on that shit is."

Nataliya turns about, leaning her back against the counter in one of those rare areas where she won't be jabbed overly much. "A man on Staten Island," she suggests to Tuck. Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug in response to Cardinal. "I worry about my own shit. I am just not surprised when other people's shit gets worse." She offers a lopsided smile.

"Makes sense. History repeats itself. There're people who are different, then there's folks who hate people for being different. Give one group superpowers and you're walking around in a powder keg, buddy." Tuck rubs his face and exhales.

"That it does." Cardinal brings a hand up, thumb and knuckle sliding under his shades to rub against his eyes, his lips pursing in a tight line, "Well, then, to quite an ancient proverb… we don't need no water, let the motherfucker burn." A push off the table, and he stretches a bit, smirking, "Should be interesting, at least."

"I just feel bad for the gay black Jewish Evolveds," Nataliya says innocently.

"Don't forget elderly," adds Tuck, tone tinged with cynicism. "And an immigrant." The corners of his lips twitch, but it's more in sadness than in humour. "Oh, what a fantastic world we live in."

"Yeah, well…" Cardinal seems about to say something, before cutting himself off with a tight shake of his head, "Anyway. Get to the doc tomorrow, Tuck, hopefully he can… repair whatever fucked up damage that sonuvabitch did to your hand. I'll take care of shit here."

Nataliya barks a laugh, brief but amused in a horrible way. "You need my help for any reason, you just ask," Nataliya tells Cardinal. "I can always say no, but you can ask."

"Just don't get yourself killed." Tuck waves a bony hand at Cardinal. It wasn't accidental, either. It's making a point. Logan means business. "Well kids. It's past my bedtime. I'm going to see if I can't sleep without rolling over and concussing myself in my sleep with this rock attached to my arm." He pinches his eyes shit and rubs at them with his good hand. "I'll see if I can't get over to the mainland tomorrow. Though I'd rather pay him to come to me."

"The guy's the next best thing to blind, I doubt he'd make it," Cardinal says with a shake of his head, looking back to Nataliya and quirking a faint smile. "Sure. Make sure he gets to Little Italy?" A thumb's jerked towards Tuck, before he turns to pick up shotgun and briefcase both from the table, drawing them back as he steps away from it.

Nataliya nods to Cardinal. "This, I can do," she tells him. "Goodbye. And goodnight, Tucker."

"Gee thanks for assigning a babysitter there, Card." The words fall like a lead weight off Tuck's tongue. He stands with some difficulty, seeing as he can only effectively haul himself up with one arm. "Watch your back," a beat, "Both've you."

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