Participants:
| Scene Title | The Kansas City Shuffle |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Cardinal explains the plan to Sal, via Bruce Willis. |
| Date | July 13, 2009 |
"You a fan of Bruce Willis at all, Sal?" The question's asked as Cardinal leans back against the side of the car as preparations are made; a faded blue station wagon, paint scratched and sides dented a bit, though not so much as it could be mistaken for a junker. The edge of a fedora tips down to shadow his brow as he takes a drag off a cigarette, exhaling a slow, coiling plume of smoke to relax himself for what's to come, "There's a movie he did, Lucky Number Sleven, that comes to mind."
Tyler Case has probably never looked this with it, or this aware of his surroundings. But that's because it's not Tyler Case. A quick touch and Salvatore Bianco morphed into his exact duplicate - minus powers, of course. He leans on the car as well and pulls a cigarette of his own out of a pocket of his jacket. "I'm starting to wish I had. If it would help me in this case."
"It's called the Kansas City Shuffle…" Cardinal produces a lighter with one hand, flicking open the cap of the zippo to produce a fluttering tongue of flame to offer out for the other man's usage, the ghost of a smile lighting his lips as he watches the metamorph over it, "…you look left, and they look right. In the movie, this assassin, played by Bruce Willis, was hired to kill this crimelord's son, by a rival crimelord whose own son was just killed. He picked this dupe that owed both crimelords money as a decoy. Turned out in the end, the 'dupe' was a plant, the assassin's apprentice, and they arranged the whole thing to take down both of the assholes."
"Do you really think we can outsmart this Ray guy like that?" Sal takes the light from Cardinal and inhales slowly. Funny how smoking only became a renewed bad habit lately. "I mean, from the sounds of things, I get the easy job. I just gotta walk around like I've been lobotomized." He exhales a cloud of smoke. The metamorph doesn't seem too put off by looking like someone else.
"I damn well hope so." Cardinal leans his head back, looking skywards as he closes his zippo and tucks it away inside his jacket, murmuring quietly, "He can't predict shit that precognitives've influenced, and I've… been consulting them on a few things. Learning things, about his agenda. Dominoes. Chess pieces…"
"I don't trust the future," says Sal. Kind of a cryptic statement. Unless you know what he's been through lately. "Don't trust predictions of it. Nothing's certain." He taps the end of the cigarette and ashes get caught up by the wind. "What's the plan B if I don't fool him, if he does have a bodyguard there?"
"Oh, he will have a bodyguard." Cardinal shakes his head a little, glancing over, "I think that I can persuade him to… step aside, though. I have some information he wants." A faint smile, "I don't trust the future either. That's why I'm planning to murder it. Then we can make our own path."
Sal rubs his forehead, or rather, Tyler's, and exhales slowly. "I don't quite have your confidence, Rich." He examines the end of his cigarette. "Fuck it. If this is the end, might as well go out trying to save a quarter million people, huh?"
"I don't think we'll go out," Cardinal gives his head a tight shake, gesturing with his cigarette over and flashing a roguish smile, "But, hell, like you said— might as well go out for a good reason, eh? Might get us past Peter at the gate."
Sal snorts. Not a religious man is he. Man of science, above all else. Funny how that was never really a point of conflict between him and his ex-lover. "Listen…if something does happen?" He stares off at a vague point of sidewalk. "I don't know what will happen if I die while I look like this. I might change back, I might not. But either way. Phoenix knows how to contact my family." He doesn't sound very emo, despite the subject matter. It's just realistic.
Cardinal is, oddly— a religious man, that is— although few would suspect it unless they know him pretty well. Of course, he's a little hypocritical about it, being a criminal and all. You don't get raised by the nuns without picking up some of that old time religion. He watches the other man for a moment, then nods a bit, "I'll make sure they know everything."
"Not that I'm expecting to die. Don't you throw me to the wolves just 'cause I've got my affairs in order," says Sal, though the grin is tight, the laugh more a huff than a bit of laughter. "Fuck. Sorry. Just been going through some bad shit lately." He tosses off the cigarette and crushes it out with his foot. "Should we get this overwith?"
"I'm not Ray." A snort from Cardinal, "I don't throw people to th'wolves." He pushes off the car, reaching to open the door and leaning a hand on the top with cigarette between fingers, his other reaching in to pull out a pile of prison-hospital style clothes, like what Tyler was found in, to offer over. There's a small hold-out pistol on top of it. He makes eye contact, noting, "Just in case."
"I'd ask you why you're so sure this is going to work, but if the answer is prophecy, then I'm not sure I really want to know." Sal takes the prison clothes from Cardinal. The gun is eyed. "I told you I'm a shitty shot, right?" And then he crawls back into the car to change. Which is no small feat considering Tyler Case isn't exactly a little guy.
"It's because I'm a huge optimist," Cardinal replies cheerfully, turning away to give the other man privacy to change, taking a long drag on his cigarette before flicking it off, embers glittering in the air as it goes spiralling off into the lot.
After some awkward fumbling about, Tyler Case's doppelganger slides out of the car and tucks the pistol in the back waistband of his pants. Sal extends his arms and does a half turn, then deadpans, "How do I look?"
A turn, and Cardinal smirks a bit. "You look great. Like a complete douche that got his ass nabbed by the black hats and shoved into a hospital gown." A jerk of his head, "Get in the car. Let's go."
"Well. Thanks. I guess." Sal tugs open the door and slides into the car. "Anything you can tell me about this guy's body language? The way he talks? Accents? Any of that?" He looks down at his hands, shifts the prison gown and pushes fingers through his hair. He makes a bit of a face, but that only lasts a moment.
"Uncertain as hell," admits Cardinal, sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door behind him, reaching for the shoulder-belt to pull it across his body and click it into place, "Easily led, not really… sure what's going on, looking for connections but afraid to really make them. I feel sorry for the guy. Friend've mine, or at least I consider him one."
"Must be weird to see me looking like him, then," says Sal. He frowns out the window of the car and flicks down the vanity mirror to test different facial expressions. He's been practicing a little, but Cardinal's description helps.
"Yeah." Cardinal turns the key in the ignition, the engine turning over with a low rumble, "But I've seen weirder."