tosbox | making my way downtown

Entry tags:

making my way downtown

[The big issue here isn't getting fired. No, Spy will be fine for now, considering all that he's saved. Losing a resource as powerful as RED and Mann Co in general is a blow indeed, but Spy can get by. Right now, he's more concerned about living and making sure none of his loose ends catch up to him.

Most of the things he's taking back with him are either essential or expensive. The weapon magazines and catalogues sent by RED are still sitting in his old quarters, along with some leisure books and even some pieces of his old uniform. The suit has always been a part of his look, so he keeps some of it; they make for some decent padding for the wine stored in the trunk of his car.

With his tie slung around his neck and his jacket over his arm, Spy makes a mental checklist of all he needs. His life is pretty much stowed away in his wallet: bank cards, multiple IDs, cash, miniature cloaking device, plane tickets... He pats his pants pocket for the only thing that doesn't fit in his wallet: his passport. Not that he'll need it for the flight, but it's good to have these things just in case.

A tiny part of his brain nags at him, urging him to feel sentimental about leaving his workplace of over four years. But to hell with that - god knows this won't be the last he's seen of them.

When Scout hobbles up to his car, a mess of stupidity and arm casts, Spy is tempted to slam the door in his face and make him eat his dust trail. But, of course, the little mongrel has to pull the mother card and all of a sudden Spy feels responsible.]

I have a jet leaving in fifty minutes. You've got twenty. Get in the car.

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[There's always something fishy about someone telling you they have a present then shoving their hand down their pants. At first, Spy leans away instinctively, but upon seeing the aluminum foil, he bends forward to take it.

Ah, now that really is a present.]

You'd rat'er I take t'is t'an you?

[ It's only sensible to give it to the one who can do the most damage with it. He did consider that Spy could kill him a lot easier now but ehhh.... ]

I dunno, what'd you get me?

A big red button.

[Seeing as Scout isn't planning on taking back his gift, Spy tucks it into his sleeve for the time being.]

Turns out t'ere's a building-wide emergency button on t'e first floor. It's right next to t'e little storage room where t'ey're keeping your toys.

[ A slow grin works its way across his face, and then he flops back on the bed, laughing a little. One of his hands delves under his shirt, fingers playing against the bandage over his stitches. ]

I can do dat. So when do we go?

'Old on, not so fast. T'e button is indeed our ultimate distraction, but it will concentrate all t'e guards to t'e area.

[He's not too worried about facing multiple enemies at once. The two of them together probably have more fighting experience than the entirety of the security team in the prison. Still, they have to consider the possibility of guns, among other things.]

We retrieve your belongings, press t'e button, and escape t'rough t'e nearest exit. Cloaking should be enough for me, but for you... I suppose you 'ave your speed. Between an invisible man and a speeding target, t'ey should 'ave no idea where to start shooting. We may even be able to kill t'em all if you can get t'em to turn t'eir backs to me.

Yeah yeah, but if it's easier to get outta there, bruddah that's what I'm doin'. You can stick around and stab guys if you want, but that's on you.

[ He rolls over to stretch his feet up and into the bed above, missing being able to amuse himself with the resistance. ]

So when do we go? Next shower time or some night?

[Spy will stay upright until either the need to sleep takes over or Scout's urge to be annoying dies down. It's very likely that the need to sleep will come first.]

T'e next shower should work. 'Ow do you plan on getting out?

Dis time you take out tha guard that guards the door.

[ Hands lifting in a shrug, simple as that. ]

Just stand him up by the door an' pull his cap down, it's like a scarecrow. [ Adjusting an invisible brim of a hat. ] Made outta a dead guy.

[With his new scalpel, it shouldn't be too messy a job. Spy seems content with the idea, nodding.]

Alright. I will create a pat' to the staircase from t'e showers for you to follow by leaving marks on t'e wall or on t'e floor. I will try not to make it too conspicuous, but we do 'ave a time limit.

[It's looking very likely he'll have to make the marks out of the security guard's blood, but he doesn't mention it for fear of sounding too morbid. Or too messy. Blood isn't something easily ignored, but it's not like they carry around pens and using the scalpel on the wall could dull it.]

[ He just suggested posting up a dead man like a scarecrow and you think a little blood is too morbid, Spy? Fair enough. ]

Got it.

[ That should give him some time to heal up, too. His legs slouch, finally stretching out as a bit of vertigo from his pain meds kicks in. ]

Gimme that foil back.

[It's more the messy part. He doesn't want to appear careless, after all.]

Hmm? What for?

[Never mind the fact that Spy is already reaching over to return the foil to its original owner.]

[ Scout takes it and balls it up, tossing it up back and forth between his hands. ]

Entertainment. What'd you even do in here widdout me?

...Slept.

[There's no point in lying about it. It's hard to stay entertained even when Scout is present.]

Exercised. Maybe stared at t'e ceiling for a few hours. As much as it pains me to say it, you're probably t'e only t'ing t'at really keeps me occupied in 'ere.

Practicin' your dance moves?

Man I knew it, you're borin' on your best day.

[ Scout, for his part, at least had inmates to chatter at in the infirmary. He doesn't really know what he'd do without Spy at this point if they took him out, though. ]

Is t'ere somet'ing wrong wit' my dance moves?

[With a shrug, Spy finally moves away from the bed frame. He takes a seat on a chair at their little table, balancing his heels on the edge of it.]

Come now, even you know t'ere's not much to do around 'ere, and t'ere's no gain in socializing wit' t'e crowd 'ere.

Speak for yerself.

[ Ok so there's no real use for what he knows about the other inmates, but the conversations have kept him going in terms of being occupied.

Scout blinks as he hears the telltale sound of the door open down the hall. ]

Dinner already?

[ But it's not dinner - it appears to be a guard escorting a new face in orange, holding a pillow and a pile of blankets. Scout only knows that because they stop in front of their cell, not willing to get up. ]

Ah crap.

[ The guard tells them to stay back while the cell is opened. ]

[Talk about socializing and being occupied. As the guard opens the door, Spy slips his scalpel into his palm, contemplating the pros and cons of killing both the inmate and the guard and taking a run for it. Spy could probably get away with it if he cloaks, but Scout is still injured and somewhat medicated, meaning he'd be a dead weight.

For some reason, that thought is enough for Spy to kill that train of thought entirely. Some god or force or whatever out there would probably give Spy some form of retribution for leaving his teammate behind at this point.]

A visitor?

[Of course it's not. The guy is holding a pillow and blankets. Both the inmate and the guard give the two REDs dirty looks as they shuffle inside.]

Looks like a new cellmate.

[ The guard informs them this is their new cellmate, who gives a fuck, and tells the man to set up his temporary bed on the floor for now. The man eyes the bunks and the two REDs, however, clearly having a different idea of where he was going to be.

Scout grins, waves, and flips him off just as soon as the guard is heading out. ]

Don't even think about it, pal.

Yes. If you so much as dare to try, I will gut you like a cornish game 'en.

[Although it would be appropriate to show it off then, Spy keeps his weapon concealed. He strolls over to the bunk to make his point, climbing to the top. Then he dangles a foot over the edge, giving the frame a slight nudge as a signal to his teammate to come closer.]

[ Scout rolls over onto his belly, pulling himself to the edge of his bed, the side of his head brushing the side of Spy's shoe a moment so he knows he's there. He puts on his toughest face, crushing the foil in his fist a little harder. ]

And I'll friggin' punch your skull in! You'll be beggin' me to if he gets ahold of ya!

[ He glances up at his teammate. What now? He had undervalued his ability to say anything to Spy until now. ]

[The problem with having an idiot for a teammate is that you have no established code for anything. Having someone else around shouldn't add any necessary inconvenience to their plan, but Spy needs to make sure. Unfortunately, since they don't have paper and pens, Spy will have to settle for whispering.]

Do you t'ink t'e guards will notice if we knock him out?

[Meanwhile, Spy keeps an eye on the new cellmate. He's giving them the evil eye, and he spits, "What the fuck're you whisperin' 'bout?" Grimacing, Spy goes ahead and flips him off.]

[ Funny how the allegedly smarter teammate ends up dealing with things the same way the idiot does. ]

Why ain't you goin' to fuck yaself?

[ Scout poses the question to the new man philosophically before addressing Spy. He's trying to whisper but, well, this merc has a loud mouth. ]

If dey do, maybe they'll take him outta here. Sounds like a win-win.

[ Inmate WGAF might not know the whole of the situation, but this much seems enough to put him on the defensive, raising meaty fists in preparation for a fight. Scout shifts to get out of bed. ]

T'ey should know 'ow much we enjoy to solve problems wit' violence by now.

[As his two cellmates prepare to engage in fisticuffs, Spy slinks down the bunk to stand on his two feet. He reaches out to touch Scout's shoulder. When he speaks, his voice is still lowered.]

Are you sure you're in any position to fight? You are injured and probably medicated.

[Scout never told him, but he figured it out by the way his balance wobbled earlier.]

[ ooc; I'm sorry this took so long - it was a really busy week here and I was wiped out! ]

Nah, don't worry, he can't hurt me!

[ Scout... that's not how painkillers work. ]

I hook 'em, you sink 'em.

[ And he launches towards their new cell mate, jumping up on the table and using it as a springboard in order to get height over the man and swing a kick at his head. It's surprisingly coordinated - unfortunately for Scout, the man not only blocks it, he grabs the merc by the ankle and swings him deftly into the wall behind him.

Welp. He's out like a light. At least for the moment it seems so; he crumples like a rag doll almost as soon as he hits the wall and lands in a heap on the floor. Spy's presence far from forgotten, WGAF whips around to address him with his fists up. ]

Oh, t'es un connard, un vrai crétin...

[Spy barely has time to rub the bridge of his nose before falling into a fighting stance. Being able to throw Scout so easily isn't a huge feat, but it does say something about what the inmate can do. It's not much, but it'll have to do.

Spy shuffles in and feints left, then goes in for a punch at his opponent's left temple. The inmate takes it full on, but shakes it off, much to Spy's surprise. Then Spy's being knocked onto his back, only narrowly avoiding getting trampled by rolling to the side.

While the new guy has bulk, Spy has dexterity, and he's jumping onto his feet before the cellmate can realize his rush tactics failed. He goes in to hit him in the kidneys, then the back of his head, before watching the inmate fall on his face.

Once his opponent is on the floor, Spy smashes his heel into the back of his head, just for extra measure, before approaching Scout. He bends to investigate the damage and leans his weight on his knees.]

[ooc: no worries! i just hope you get some time to relax :) ]

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