Participants:
| Scene Title | Magnum XXL |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Christian brings Deckard breakfast in bed and a condom, but draws the line at painting his toenails. |
| Date | November 22, 2008 |
It's early. In the morning. Grey-blue light filters in through the vertical slats of open blinds. The view? Is interesting. New York City's skyline cuts a jagged path above the horizon, with the scar of Midtown greyer and more jagged than the rest.
It's a nice hotel room. Several stories up. Flatscreen TV, queen-size bed, spacious bathroom. Deckard is passed out on the bed, still mostly dressed in a white dress shirt, slacks, and socks. He smells like whiskey, smoke, and morning breath. The comforter has been stripped off onto the floor. A chair supports his suit coat, overcoat, and empty shoulder holster. The gun itself, a .45 today, rests on the bedside table just out of reach.
Its a phone actually, not a knock that announces his arrival. Ring-ring-ring, the most annoying ringer in the world and its right next to where Deckard's head is laying. Then, the door opens rather than knocking. "Wakey wakey."he offers, setting a otter box off to one side. In his other hand however, is a tray containing the breakfast he promised and of course a brand new pair of shades. "I also scotch, if you prefer to drink coffee like a real man."
Deckard's snoring stutters and stops. One eye squints blearily open at the phone — Did he leave that there? — and then at the door, which is opening. Rather than reach for his gun or reply, he rolls stiffly over onto his back and lifts his wrist to check his watch. Conclusion? It's way too fucking early to be awake. "Ngh."
Christian sets the tray down on the table. "Hey, Champ. Wake up, I'm gonna show you how to -not- get killed."He might think to ask if Deckard was wearing his jammer, but with Chris's still blaring he sort've doubted it was a big deal. "I got your complimentary breakfast, your government property Tavor and a new pair of shades."
The incoherent grumble turns over into a yawn, and Deckard's lifted hand splays down over his head while he looks over at the offered breakfast. "You're a pal."
It was indeed, the breakfast he promised but didnt look like it was the typical room service fair. Bacon, eggs, sausage, pancakes, coffee, a travel bottle of whiskey, aspirin and a pair of almost expensive cigars. Oh, and the replacement shades. "Yes I am, because I'm the one thats gonna keep you from dying."he says, almost cheerfully. Walking back to grab the case and set it across a chair's arms.
It almost takes more effort than Deckard is willing to put up at this hour, but he manages to stretch an arm far enough over to retrieve the sunglasses. He slips them on first, then reaches for the whiskey bottle and aspirin, because he's a classy guy like that. "Unless you're going to let me wear you around like a shirt and catch bullets for me, you'll have to forgive me if I'm skeptical."
Christian pops the rifle case open, and produces the Tavor and then another Tavor. Two infact which he sets down next to Deckard beside one another."I do this sort of thing for a living, and I did it in Columbia where the bad guys get much more practice. I wont catch bullets for you, but I will kill any man who draws a gun on you. I'm going to give you a panic button, if you want it. I can wire it into a shirt button, and if things start to go sideways and you want me to kill every fucker in the room you press it."
"Fu—" Flint starts to say around the clack of aspirin against the back of his teeth, only to reconsider before he can get to the, 'ck you.' He washes the pills down with whiskey, then half rolls over to retrieve a piece of bacon, masking his expression with the turn of his shoulder in the process. "How long would it take you to get there?"
Christian shrugs "it depends to be honest, I'd like to tell you a few seconds but it may take longer than that. If your outside in the open, well then I can probably pour enough automatic fire onto them from range to let you get away. If its enclosed, like a car it could take a moment. Where are you going to meet them?"
"Can you teleport?" It's an earnest question, made somewhat less than earnest by the level of Deckard's brows over his shiny new black sunglasses. He takes a bite of bacon, chews with his mouth (mostly) closed, and sits up a little straighter, propping his back up against the headboard. "I don't know."
Teleportation would indeed be awesome."No, but I can tell where people are. How will they contact you, do you know why they wanted Tavors specifically?"he leans back, rubbing at his beard. "Are they in this for the weapons, or are they in this for you?"keeping his gaze firmly on Deckard.
The other half of the bacon is eaten more slowly. The line of Deckard's stare is effectively blotted out by the glasses, but the gleam of black lenses stays level with Chris for several seconds before he lifts a hand to scratch at his head and looks away. "Where's Felix?"
Christian shakes his head "I havent talked to him today, this is still his show. I'm just here to supply the firepower, thats my role in all of this. Do you need any additional equipment, do you want the panic button?"he leans back. "I'm not going to tell you how to do this, you've met these people and I havent. Your the expert, you tell me what you need from me."
"The panic button might be fun," is conceded after another pause while Deckard continues to squint out the window. "Don't put it in a shirt, though. Could you put it into a condom package? That would be sweet."
Hardly original, the condom is sort've an old thing. So Chris digs through his bag some, and produces a fairly nice modern PDA/phone/thing and a condom. Magnum XXL."You need to keep the phone within three hundred feet of the condom to work."he sets the pair aside, and digs out his laptop which he opens up to show the screen. He squeezes the condom, which otherwise feels entirely normal. 1-2-3 seconds and then a bright red blip shows up on a map overlay of his laptop. "Press it, squeeze it for three seconds. "he hands the phone, and the condom over. Hitting a key to reset the laptop. "the phone wont beep or blink or anything to indicate its sending a signal. its not carried on normal cell frequencies, so it'll get the call out even if theres extreme signal degredation."
Magnum XXL. Deckard listens, takes the condom, and repeats: "Press it, squeeze it for three seconds." There is a beat. Then he laughs. Really laughs. It's a weird sound, slightly maniacal, and it ends in a drawn out sigh. "Christ. Good thing you went all out on the size. Otherwise she might not believe it really belonged to me." He sniffs, chuckles again, and leans to take the phone so he can look at that in turn. "I love cops."
Christian just smiles."I dont make the buttons, dont look at me. I think it actually has more to do with the size of the transmitter, the foil wrapped is the actual antenna. Thats why you cant feel much. It bends, it feels normal. Unless you tear it open you'd never know, right?"he leans back, pointing to the phone. "GPS, texting, email. You know the whole nine yards, I took care to ensure only I have the function key. So assuming they dont overhear you, this can be considered as very secure. If somone tried to crack it, I would know about it. Because we dont want to set off any bug detectors, it doesnt tell me where you are unless you tell it to. So this isnt like a spy tool, its just a regular phone with enhanced encryption. "
"No comment," says Flint, maybe wisely. The condom is tucked down into his trouser pocket. The phone is tossed down onto the bed next to him so that he can pull the breakfast tray over into his lap. What remains of his whiskey is dumped into the coffee. "Cool."
There’s some digging around in his jacket, before he finally produces a small hand written slip of paper. "These first two radios are Chinese military and the other two are Russian, the last one is a revolver. Now I have a company contact I can go through, but he's not very reliable and he takes forever. I'd like two of these revolvers, and I think about five thousand rounds of ammunition. I'll take what you find, when you find it and pay in cash. If you cant find any of this stuff, that’s ok too. You don’t lose any points with me, but I'd consider it a favor if you could."
Pamcakes. Knife and fork in hand, Deckard sets to slicing and eating while Christopher digs around. The knife is set aside long enough for him to take the paper and squint at it, then he nods. "I don't have much experience looking at radios, but I'll see what I can dig up. If you want the ammunition in bulk, you could probably get it cheaper from somewhere else, too."
"Special ammunition, not available to the public and like I said. The official channels are a pain."he rises slowly, zipping his jacket back up. "is there anything else you need, Mr.Deckard? Otherwise, I'm going to leave you to your meal. I wouldn’t want to spend my whole morning with a fed either."
"Will you paint my toenails?" The socked toes in question are wiggled at the end of the bed, probably quite stinky on their own, and Deckard sips his tainted coffee. That's probably a no.
"No, but I'll feed them to you." he waves offhand, yeah. Have a nice day, whatever. Chris snags his helmet, and with business delt with quietly slips out the same way he came in. Casually, stuffing in his earbud to listen to the Tavor's first chirp. He'd bugged them, of course. That’s what Chris did.
 November 22nd: Promise Me |
Previously in this storyline… Next in this storyline… |
 November 22nd: Bypass |