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| Bad Cop, Bad Cop; Tag: Jamie/Guido | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 30 2012, 03:21 PM (627 Views) | |
| Jamie Madrox | Nov 26 2012, 12:13 PM Post #16 |
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Two of the multiples turned simultaneously from the group and walked away thumbing a number into their cell phones. One would be patching through to the New York Police Department while the other called their current employer, Mr. Briggs, to let him know that they had caught the bad guy and hung him out to dry. This one even took the time for a courtesy photo of the entangled villain and forwarded it to the man as evidence. On the other end of the line he seemed thankful and he verified the identity before the dupe got off the phone. They were getting paid, and they had one more exemplary job under their belt. Things were definitely looking up for X-F Investigations. But Beta Jamie was busy looking Trevor over carefully. "You don't want cash," he said after a few thoughtful moments. "It just gums up the wallet and makes it hard to sit down. Studies have shown that fat wallets in the back pocket are responsible for back problems." "It's true," Guido said with a nod. "I have something even better for you." Beta put a hand on one of his shoulders and Guido put his hand on his other shoulder and they escorted him over to the bar directly beside where the man was hanging. The bartender looked at them dubiously before Beta piped up in a vastly improving Scottish accent. "Bartender, gie thes laddie somethin' tae droon his sorrows." Guido took a seat on the other side Trevor and it was almost a replay of the last bar scene they were in, aside from the guy dangling in the air and the sweet taste of victory. "You seem to have a knack for all of this," Beta continued after a moment. "And I don't say that about many people. When Guido wasn't looking Beta gestured at him to Trevor and rolled his eyes. "But we get cases like this every day." Guido coughed and Jamie looked up at him. "...ish." It was a slow month. "I guess I'm sort of putting it out there. You look like a guy who knows a lot of undesirables." That hadn't come out exactly how he had imagined it should, but he went with it. "How would you like to know a couple more?" Guido barked out a laugh and with Jamie he held up his glass. "Heard that." Their glasses were held out to Trevor in expectation of a toast. |
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| Trevor Fitzroy | Nov 27 2012, 02:59 AM Post #17 |
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"As lov'ly as t'all been," Trevor looked between the two men - ignoring the seven or hundred others that were milling around behind them. "...As brilliant as 'tis been ta muck aboot wit'ye'lads..." He stood up and downed the entire drink before placing it squarely atop the bar. Then, with a drag off his ciggie, he exhaled and smiled through the smoke, finishing up with a very slow spoken and as New-York-Sounding as possible, "But if y'don't have money, y'don't have Trev, eh?" So, it didn't sound exactly like an American, but he pulled off a slight yank accent - that is, if he were taught by a fleet of cabbies and drunken pub denizens. When Trevor realized that his accent didn't quite hit the sweet spot, he switched back to his usual voice and said, "Ye' know, I t'a'n't but a step 'er so 'way from th' burroo - me funds, I'm sayin', eh? They're a bit low, mm?" Was he getting through? He tried to. He looked between Jamie and Guido. "B't seein' yer' askin; and I t'ain't one'll turn ye' dahn, iff'n y'c'n offer say... A side bit nae 'n th'n... I could see us gaun gid." Moving to the bar, he patted the top and nodded to the 'tender, getting another drink on the others' tab. This one he lifted up and said, "Sew'yah? A bit o'dosh in Trev's wallet, th'n 'is steady know-how at y'er beck'n?" And waited for a toast to business - paid business. |
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| Strong Guy | Nov 27 2012, 09:46 PM Post #18 |
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So the guy wanted to play hardball. Guido could respect that. Honestly he knew Jamie already had it in mind to give the guy something for his trouble. Maybe a fifty spot? It wasn’t like he had invested a lot of time in this case after all. Plus they had just paid his tab at the bar, and they were in fact paying for this current round as well. Still, it seemed way more fun to make the guy squirm a little. And though his accent only seemed to get worse as the day wore on, somehow through liquor (the great equalizer) it didn’t seem to matter. Of course the ‘bit of dosh’ line had them smirking over his head at each other like two juvenile delinquents. It would become the new running joke with them over the next few weeks, the two of them striving at all costs to try and slip that line in anywhere they could whether it made any sense or not. “Sure we do,” Jamie said. “You took time out of your…busy schedule…to lead us over to one of your watering holes and did your whole Jedi force trick to knock the bad guy’s gun out of the way. That deserves something.” He gestured to Guido. “Guido, give the man a fifty spot.” Guido glowered at his wee little friend, but took his wallet out and slapped some green down on the bar top so hard that it seemed to threaten the structural integrity. “We don’t usually skim right off tha top like this,” he said in a deep bass rumble. “We got a whole posse to take care of.” In fact, neither of them would say it out right, but it would be cheaper for them in the long run to bring him on board and integrate him into the fold rather than leave him as outside paid help. “Question is, what else do you bring to the table,” Guido said. Aside from the obvious hilarity and hijinx potentiality, why would XF-Investigations need such a chap? |
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| Trevor Fitzroy | Nov 27 2012, 10:17 PM Post #19 |
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“Aye,” Trevor tilted his head a bit and took back the rest of the drink in one fell swoopin’ gulp and then placed the glass back on the bar with the delicate touch of a half drunk Scotsman – in other words, it didn’t fall off and that was probably the best they could hope for. Then, he reached over and pocketed the fifty, right up in his chest pocket, and patted it a couple of times, noting, “Aye, tha’d d’me gud.” At least, for the moment. “Fifty ‘n Man’att’n? I’ll ge’me a…mars bar… an’ mebbe ‘alf a pack o’ciggies.” Too true. Not one of his bills, even a weekly one, would be knocked out with a fifty. But, he was feeling fine and the men were more of a laugh than he had expected, so Trevor decided to play their game. It wasn’t close to work-time, so why not play a round of ‘you show me yours, I’ll show you mine’? He imagined that there wasn’t much more the Xerox could do other than continuously push out clones. Though, if he were to think on it, Trevor would have been a bit horrified if he didn’t know that they could be absorbed as well. A whole city of Jamies running around? Oh, the humanity! And the brawns, well. You looked at him and you knew. Strength was a good power, especially if you were to come out with it as a child. Trevor could have avoided a lot of playground headaches if he could just punch the lights out of any kid who called him a name or said he tattled or some nonsense. Trevor’s power was different. “Aye, well, ye lads gwan’a look’ere?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it up and dragging out a business card from a cleaners he used frequently enough to have four puncture holes in it – on its way to sixteen and a free shirt cleaned!- and he held it up in front of his face. “Ah, y’see? Narm’l card.” Trevor twisted his hand to show the back and the front. Yup, that was a card, alright. “Na’ watch.” As they were looking at the card, Trevor dropped it to the floor, opened up a teleportation portal behind himself, and slipped through. The card fell to the floor, very non-magically, and Trevor appeared behind the bar-counter in the blink of an eye, standing behind the tender and now holding a bottle of beer. “Ta-da!” |
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| Jamie Madrox | Nov 29 2012, 08:37 PM Post #20 |
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After the display Jamie was left looking at Trevor with what could best be summed up as an utter lack of comprehension. One second he had been on one side of the bar with a decidedly empty beverage glass, and the next minute he was on the other side of the bar with a freshly opened longneck. And for a few moments after the spoken ‘tada’ nobody really said anything. At length Jamie glanced over at Guido who was frowning in speculation and they locked eyes. “So…it’s some kind of beer-portational thing?” Guido shook his head. “No…I think it’s a power to siphon money out of your wallet.” Jamie thought about this long and hard and then they both turned back to the Scot who was happy as a…well a Scot sipping on a beer. “See, I thought that was your power,” Jamie said over his shoulder to Guido who frowned at him. But evidently another congratulatory round was in order, so Jamie ponied up with the dough and the next thing he knew they were sitting in front of a platoon of empty longnecks. The cops had come hours ago, taking the bad guy away for a proper flogging and what was left was a bartender who was trying to shut down the place and three properly sloshed superheroic types. Guido ordered a fifth of Jameson’s for the road and the three of them stumbled out into the Mutant Town streets. “Time powers,” Jamie said with an arm draped loosely over his shoulders. “We should take a ride in your Tardick.” He regretted it the instant he said it, but it was too late for retractions. He could see Guido over the top of Trevor’s head, giving him a look with one eyebrow lifted higher than the other. But whatever. “We take on all kinds of cases,” he said. “You should come back to the plasche and meet everyone!” Guido grinned and took a swig. “Hell yes he should.” They propped Trevor up and like the blind leading the blind they staggered in a curvaceous line toward good old Brownstone. It was about half a block down the road when both Jamie and Guido stopped. “We live that way,” Guido said. And they turned around and resumed their walk. |
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7:31 PM Jul 11