tosbox | making my way downtown

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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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...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 :) ]

[ Scout got knocked the hell out, and is now in a dazed stupor. Like most victims of fainting, he doesn't know what happened or, for that matter, that he passed out. He dimly recounts that he was in a fight and now he was on the floor. Sensing someone's shadow, he attempts to strike out. Fortunately for Spy, it looks half-hearted and sloppy at best, like trying to attack in a dream. ]

[ ooc; yes, this is what I do to relax lol. ]

[Spy drops to his knees, then reaches to grab Scout's wrist out of the air.]

'E's down, but so are you. A rat'er drastic way to get me to take you to bed, oui?

[ The muscle in Scout's arm coils as his fist flexes, but goes limp just as soon as he hears and recognizes Spy. ]

Ah, crap...

[ So that's why it feels like his head got rolled over by a train. He throws his free arm over his eyes, a little melodramatic but it helps block the searing light. ]

'least I got him...

You're an idiot.

[Sighing, he pulls at his teammate's arm.]

You're in worse condition t'an I t'ought. Should I return you to t'e infirmary?

[Come on, Scout, let's get you on your feet, at least.]

Nah, nah, I'm fine.

[ He probably has a concussion. He groans as Spy pulls at him, reluctantly sitting up. Times before this have prepared him to allow the other man to help him, and he reaches to wrap an arm around his shoulders. ]

He dead?

Probably not. I didn't check for a pulse.

[Unless the man is drowning in a pool of his own blood, he'll probably make it. Spy didn't check to see if he broke his nose, though there had been a satisfying crunch under his heel.

With a huff, he distributes Scout's weight over his shoulders before lifting him to his feet. He glances in the direction of their cellmate and finds that there is blood oozing out from under his head.]

Hmm. I wonder if t'at will be a problem.

Whuddeva, guess we'll deal with it when it develops inta one.

[ Scout, you're in no condition to deal with anything. Exemplified by the way the world spins as Spy hauls him up. Scout's legs go about as wobbly as a newborn's for a moment, fingers tightening in the other's shirt in a threat to drag the other man down with him. ]

[Spy's stance falters as Scout leans more weight onto him, distracting him from any sort of response he had formulating on his tongue.

The man is far from heavy, however, so Spy is confident in his ability to lift him. He moves to scoop him up bridal style, sweeping an arm under Scout's knees while keeping another steady on his back.]

[ Scout sputters indignantly in turn. ]

Yo!

[ But there's not a whole lot to do, so he tries to treat it like Spy is his manservant and look more smug instead of churlish. ]

How we gonna talk widdis bozo around?

We could kill 'im.

[He lays Scout onto his bed gently.]

It would smell eventually, but 'opefully we'll be out of 'ere by t'en.

You'd think they'd figure it out before then.

[ He's surprised by the gentleness, but he doesn't comment on it, just folds his arms accross his stomach. ]

We kill 'im, who knows who comes in next. We know we can take him. Still, one of us is gonna have to keep our eyes open if the other one's gonna sleep while he's around.

[Seeing as Scout is already injured, there's no point in ruining him any further. Once he steps away, he leans his back against the bedframe.]

You overestimate t'e security in t'is place. If we dress 'im up nice for t'e guards...

[He means it mostly as a joke. Plus, he pretty much ruined the guy's face, so it's looking like a no-go.]

If we kill enough of t'em, t'ey may be deterred from sending in more men. But you're suggesting we sleep in shifts until t'e situation is rectified?

Edited 2014-12-07 03:56 (UTC)

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