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xp_logsHaving accepted Wade's generous invitation, David lets the mercenary drag him out to Minnesota where they proceed to blow up a shack. Fun times are had.
It wasn't that the shack in question had ever done anything to particularly offend or upset Wade. In fact, for a good long while, it had been a very useful place to stash weapons of various kinds and, after he'd shifted his older items to more secure locations, he'd kept his files on potential clients and marks here. It was, however, now well and truly just a shack. He'd moved his files to sites in Arizona, North Dakota, and Ontario.
So Wade had a shack he wasn't using anymore and... he was bored. The obvious conclusion to this combination of circumstances was that the shack should definitely get blown up. It made perfect sense.
"So I was thinking," he said, moving several blocks of C4 out of the trunk of the car they'd rented to get to the shack. It was isolated even by Minnesota standards. "We could rock-paper-scissors it to see who gets to wire things up. I prefer C4, but I know you have a fondness for gas lines and there's a beautiful propane tank around back. Thoughts?"
“In the spirit of fairness, I feel that I should point out that I would win,” David commented mildly, as he scrolled through emails on his phone. He was leaning against Wade’s car, one hand tucked into his trenchcoat, making no move to help the older man with his explosives. “Thanks to your amazing driving skills.”
He was referring to the triggering of his precognitive powers due to the spike in his adrenaline levels, which had resulted naturally from Wade’s speed devil racing habits. Failing that, there was also, as a matter of course, a convenient bottle of pills nestled in one of his pockets.
“We could race,” he suggested after a pause, typing out a message on the mobile even as he spoke. “But then I could just cut off the gas line and blow up the propane tank with a lighter in the time it would take you to even satisfyingly lay out your C4.” My, he really was in a fair mood today. The German man glanced up and shot his fellow war veteran a smirk.
"Bitch and moan, bitch and moan," Wade said, grinning. "I didn't even hit 90. The car was in no danger of flipping over. You're just a nervous backseat driver is what you are. 'Wade, Wade, watch out for the tree. Watch out for the guardrail. Watch out for the raccoon. You hit a fly, oh God, we're going to die!'" By the end of his rendition of David's commentary, the mercenary's voice was about as high-pitched as it could get and he was flailing one hand around. Eventually, the back of said hand hit his forehead and he feigned a faint into the trunk of the car.
Pulling himself back out a moment later, though, he peered around the car at his friend and raised his eyebrows. "You didn't say it, but I could see it in your eyes. Then you spoiled all the fun by going all precog-y on me." He finished unpacking his C4, then closed the trunk and said, "We could coordinate and blow the place up at the same time." The bigger the explosion, the better. Obviously.
David snorted, half-tempted to bundle Wade into the trunk and close the lid on him just to show him he could. Instead, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and withdrew a cigarette, lighting it up with a cheap plastic lighter as he moved around the vehicle to peer in at the explosives Wade had brought along for their little trip. Quirking a brow, he nodded consideringly at it. Of course Wade never did things by halves.
“C4s in the gas tank,” David said, a small smile now crinkling the corners of blue eyes as he picked up a block and weighed it in his hands. “Would make for an explosion of massive proportions.” He would, of course, have to check and perhaps break the gas line. “Perhaps we should have Jubilation along the next time.”
He did so like fireworks.
Wade grinned. "If we break the line in the house, that'll give me a chance to set up the C4 in there. I'll give you a brick or two for the propane tank, too. We coordinate, set both off at the same time, and boom - chain reaction. C4 triggers gas explosion - we're gonna need to be like. At least a half mile away to avoid shrapnel." This was, after all, a shack he'd been using for important things for at least two decades. Which meant the walls weren't quite a flimsy as they looked and there were interesting things hidden in them.
Mostly because, if you were going to blow something up, you usually wanted to do as much damage as possible... and if Wade was doing damage, he was going to make sure he took down everybody who was threatening him. Thus, shrapnel built into the walls. He'd been fond of this little shack.
Not knowing what the shack had been used for, and thus why it had in-built shrapnel, David shot Wade an incredulous look at the implication, then shook his head and dropped the brick back into the trunk, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I’m sure what we’re doing is completely justifiable,” he commented, clearly somewhat enamoured with Wade’s suggestion. “Explosives training. It may come in handy in future.”
"Exactly!" The property wasn't zoned for explosives training or anything, though it was privately owned and, if anybody asked, he was going to say this was some kind of horrible accident resulting from over enthusiastic miners with faulty explosives and an unfortunate gas/pilot light problem. Really, just a massive coincidence. "So we're agreed? You handle the gassy things, I'll handle the plastique?"
“Gassy things,” David repeated, shaking his head and looking skywards. But he was smiling slightly, already headed towards the back of the shack to examine the gas tank and study the pipes. Some digging may have to be done, but not too much. Just one spot to insert a C4 brick and another to break up the path that would lead to the mains. Plus if they were using explosives to kickstart their explosion, he did not really need to leave the pilot light on. The German trusted that Wade had a remote trigger.
He ambled back out to where Wade had just about finished unloading the trunk, pinching out and flicking away the cigarette before he stole three bricks from the man’s loot. “Do you have a shovel?”
Wade grinned and popped the trunk with the button on the keyring the rental place had given him. "Standard operating procedure, mein Freund. It's under the gym bag full of weapons." He knew not everyone traveled with bags of rifles, handguns, and knives, but not everyone was him. And shovels were useful in so many different ways. Giving North a salute, he headed inside to lay out the C4, two bricks in the bathroom, two in the living room/kitchen, and two in bedroom. He put four in the storeroom beneath the house, the only you could only reach by opening the half-hidden trap door in the kitchen corner. That was where he'd kept his important information, when he'd kept it here, and there could theoretically still be traces of something down there. Implanting the remote detonators was a little tricky, but he managed it in good time and didn't blow himself up in the process.
Meanwhile, David had prudently turned off the gas and was shovelling dirt from the ground just behind the house, his trenchcoat lying on the ground as he worked. Ten minutes later found him brushing soil from the pipes leading to the house with a gloved hand before the operative hammered the side of a nut with a screw driver and separated the 3-piece coupling union. Unscrewing a portion of the piping, he pulled up his shirt to cover his nose and mouth before lifting the section off. He worked quickly with practiced motions, taping off one end of the pipe wiith Teflon tape and setting up a C4 with a remote detonator in the other. That done, he unsealed the other end and screwed the metal flap back on.
Haphazardly pushing the dirt back over the hole, David considered the ramifications of their little joy ride. If there were gas lines leading back to the mains, remote area or not, things could definitely blow out of control. Pun intended. There were no active threats on their lives, which meant that he had time to work out less crude methods than breaking pipes with a shovel and taping them off with Teflon and leaving it up to chance and the gas company’s safety precautions.
“Hey, Wade,” he called as he moved to set up a block on the side of the propane gas tank. “Come round back when you’re done there. Got a question for you.”
Wade tipped his head to the side as he finished inserting the final remote detonator in his last brick of C4 in the bedroom, then he stood up carefully exited the house by the front door, closing it quietly. That wasn't necessary - as he'd told Angel when he was teaching her about C4, it was one of the most stable explosives available. His caution was borne more of a sense of paranoia and extreme caution than anything else. North was fiddling with the gas line, after all.
Walking around to the back near the propane tank, he quirked an eyebrow at David. "Yes, my young friend? How may I be of service to you? Need you advice on eloquence? Assistance in the arena of love? Restaurant suggestions so we might later partake of delicious enchiladas after this evening of fine entertainment with which I'm providing you?"
“Well, old man,” David replied dryly, leaning casually against the propane tank. The both of them were entirely too unphased by the amount of explosives they were surrounded by. “Providing me with entertainment and then feeding me enchiladas will earn you my rarely gifted company and temporary gratitude.” He tapped the propane tank. “Is this hooked up to any gas lines?”
"Just the one going into the house. We're too far out from the city to have to worry about main lines or anything. But don't worry - I had a truck out yesterday to make sure she was full. We're ready to go whenever you like."
“I like,” the precog smirked, pointing at the pair of C4s perched almost innocently on the tank. “There’s one more of your babies in the pipe leading into the shack. If you grab the equipment and get the car, I’ll turn the gas on the stoves on. Unless you’d rather I puncture an interior piping?”
"Oh, turn the stoves on," Wade said, his expression positively gleeful. He looked fondly at the shack. "This is going to be some very serious overkill - I haven't blown anything up like this in at least a decade."
“A decade,” David seemed to have picked up the habit of repeating every ridiculous phrase that came out of Wade’s mouth. “What a boring life you’ve had.” Although he probably should not speak, considering that he had spent 11 years as a mindless corporate drone. Amusement still dancing in his eyes, he slipped past the mercenary to go back inside the shack, making quick work of taping up the windows before turning on the stove. As he exited, he shoved the welcome mat against the bottom of the door and jogged towards the car where Wade was waiting.
Wade picked up the conversation like it hadn't been interrupted. "At least a decade," he said, emphasizing the word again because it was important to acknowledge the fact that it could have been longer. Sliding into the car, he started her up and reversed, then put her through a three point turn before heading back down the long drive. "The remote will work within a mile of the detonators - there's a good vantage point on a hill maybe half a mile away. Should be far enough to avoid the shrapnel. Probably."
“Boring,” David repeated good-naturedly as he slid into his seat. “This is my third in about six years, I think. “You need to keep up with times, old man. And if half a mile is not enough, I’m sure you’ll make an excellent meat shield.”
"Sure, no problem," Wade said, snorting softly. Then he grinned. "I'll be your meat shield any day, big boy." He spoke as he sped down the driveway, then took a dilapidated looking side road that led its winding way up to the hill he'd mentioned. "Et voila."
Alighting, David shut the door and moved around to the front to lean against the hood of the car. Blue eyes were trained on the shack while he lit another cigarette, briefly wondering if he was getting too much enjoyment out of this. “Light her up, Wadey,” he said. “Honour’s all yours.”
Wade was usually more interested in theatrics when it came to his explosions than he was at the moment, but he wasn't too bothered by that. Rather, he just shifted the detonator in his hand, took a breath, and depressed the button with his thumb.
The explosion that followed was utterly magnificent, beautiful in its destruction - a paradox, a juxtaposition, an enigma of a thing. Propping his back against the car as the flames and smoke billowed skyward, Wade smiled. "Was it good for you, Davy?"
The taciturn man was actually grinning, his eyes dancing with mirth as he surveyed the damage. “Is that what you ask Marie-Ange in your afterglow? Because I dare say that if your skills in bed are as spectacular as that,” he gestured at the cloud of smoke in the near distance where a shack once stood, and arched a single brow with obvious suggestive intent. “The response would be a very satisfied yes, Wadey.”
Wade laughed. What else could he do? "That really was spectacular. Good thinking, turning the gas on inside." He never took his eyes off the inferno below, watching even as it began to die down.
“I do try,” David replied, taking a long, slow drag. His heart rate was gradually slowing to its usual pace as things started to settle down. There were still burning bits of debris and smoke was lazily streaming into the air as the pair watched from their view perch. But, “we should go. Local authorities and all.”
Still grinning, Wade nodded. "On it." He couldn't see any shrapnel from where they were situated, but he was pretty sure the local authorities, when they got there, would find some interesting pieces of scrap metal embedded in various trees surrounding the epicenter of the blast. "I know this barbecue place a little ways outside town. We should get sandwiches." He continued speaking as they climbed back into the car, starting the engine and turning in a wide arch before heading down the road again and out to the main highway. Today had been a good day.
It wasn't that the shack in question had ever done anything to particularly offend or upset Wade. In fact, for a good long while, it had been a very useful place to stash weapons of various kinds and, after he'd shifted his older items to more secure locations, he'd kept his files on potential clients and marks here. It was, however, now well and truly just a shack. He'd moved his files to sites in Arizona, North Dakota, and Ontario.
So Wade had a shack he wasn't using anymore and... he was bored. The obvious conclusion to this combination of circumstances was that the shack should definitely get blown up. It made perfect sense.
"So I was thinking," he said, moving several blocks of C4 out of the trunk of the car they'd rented to get to the shack. It was isolated even by Minnesota standards. "We could rock-paper-scissors it to see who gets to wire things up. I prefer C4, but I know you have a fondness for gas lines and there's a beautiful propane tank around back. Thoughts?"
“In the spirit of fairness, I feel that I should point out that I would win,” David commented mildly, as he scrolled through emails on his phone. He was leaning against Wade’s car, one hand tucked into his trenchcoat, making no move to help the older man with his explosives. “Thanks to your amazing driving skills.”
He was referring to the triggering of his precognitive powers due to the spike in his adrenaline levels, which had resulted naturally from Wade’s speed devil racing habits. Failing that, there was also, as a matter of course, a convenient bottle of pills nestled in one of his pockets.
“We could race,” he suggested after a pause, typing out a message on the mobile even as he spoke. “But then I could just cut off the gas line and blow up the propane tank with a lighter in the time it would take you to even satisfyingly lay out your C4.” My, he really was in a fair mood today. The German man glanced up and shot his fellow war veteran a smirk.
"Bitch and moan, bitch and moan," Wade said, grinning. "I didn't even hit 90. The car was in no danger of flipping over. You're just a nervous backseat driver is what you are. 'Wade, Wade, watch out for the tree. Watch out for the guardrail. Watch out for the raccoon. You hit a fly, oh God, we're going to die!'" By the end of his rendition of David's commentary, the mercenary's voice was about as high-pitched as it could get and he was flailing one hand around. Eventually, the back of said hand hit his forehead and he feigned a faint into the trunk of the car.
Pulling himself back out a moment later, though, he peered around the car at his friend and raised his eyebrows. "You didn't say it, but I could see it in your eyes. Then you spoiled all the fun by going all precog-y on me." He finished unpacking his C4, then closed the trunk and said, "We could coordinate and blow the place up at the same time." The bigger the explosion, the better. Obviously.
David snorted, half-tempted to bundle Wade into the trunk and close the lid on him just to show him he could. Instead, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and withdrew a cigarette, lighting it up with a cheap plastic lighter as he moved around the vehicle to peer in at the explosives Wade had brought along for their little trip. Quirking a brow, he nodded consideringly at it. Of course Wade never did things by halves.
“C4s in the gas tank,” David said, a small smile now crinkling the corners of blue eyes as he picked up a block and weighed it in his hands. “Would make for an explosion of massive proportions.” He would, of course, have to check and perhaps break the gas line. “Perhaps we should have Jubilation along the next time.”
He did so like fireworks.
Wade grinned. "If we break the line in the house, that'll give me a chance to set up the C4 in there. I'll give you a brick or two for the propane tank, too. We coordinate, set both off at the same time, and boom - chain reaction. C4 triggers gas explosion - we're gonna need to be like. At least a half mile away to avoid shrapnel." This was, after all, a shack he'd been using for important things for at least two decades. Which meant the walls weren't quite a flimsy as they looked and there were interesting things hidden in them.
Mostly because, if you were going to blow something up, you usually wanted to do as much damage as possible... and if Wade was doing damage, he was going to make sure he took down everybody who was threatening him. Thus, shrapnel built into the walls. He'd been fond of this little shack.
Not knowing what the shack had been used for, and thus why it had in-built shrapnel, David shot Wade an incredulous look at the implication, then shook his head and dropped the brick back into the trunk, taking a drag from his cigarette. “I’m sure what we’re doing is completely justifiable,” he commented, clearly somewhat enamoured with Wade’s suggestion. “Explosives training. It may come in handy in future.”
"Exactly!" The property wasn't zoned for explosives training or anything, though it was privately owned and, if anybody asked, he was going to say this was some kind of horrible accident resulting from over enthusiastic miners with faulty explosives and an unfortunate gas/pilot light problem. Really, just a massive coincidence. "So we're agreed? You handle the gassy things, I'll handle the plastique?"
“Gassy things,” David repeated, shaking his head and looking skywards. But he was smiling slightly, already headed towards the back of the shack to examine the gas tank and study the pipes. Some digging may have to be done, but not too much. Just one spot to insert a C4 brick and another to break up the path that would lead to the mains. Plus if they were using explosives to kickstart their explosion, he did not really need to leave the pilot light on. The German trusted that Wade had a remote trigger.
He ambled back out to where Wade had just about finished unloading the trunk, pinching out and flicking away the cigarette before he stole three bricks from the man’s loot. “Do you have a shovel?”
Wade grinned and popped the trunk with the button on the keyring the rental place had given him. "Standard operating procedure, mein Freund. It's under the gym bag full of weapons." He knew not everyone traveled with bags of rifles, handguns, and knives, but not everyone was him. And shovels were useful in so many different ways. Giving North a salute, he headed inside to lay out the C4, two bricks in the bathroom, two in the living room/kitchen, and two in bedroom. He put four in the storeroom beneath the house, the only you could only reach by opening the half-hidden trap door in the kitchen corner. That was where he'd kept his important information, when he'd kept it here, and there could theoretically still be traces of something down there. Implanting the remote detonators was a little tricky, but he managed it in good time and didn't blow himself up in the process.
Meanwhile, David had prudently turned off the gas and was shovelling dirt from the ground just behind the house, his trenchcoat lying on the ground as he worked. Ten minutes later found him brushing soil from the pipes leading to the house with a gloved hand before the operative hammered the side of a nut with a screw driver and separated the 3-piece coupling union. Unscrewing a portion of the piping, he pulled up his shirt to cover his nose and mouth before lifting the section off. He worked quickly with practiced motions, taping off one end of the pipe wiith Teflon tape and setting up a C4 with a remote detonator in the other. That done, he unsealed the other end and screwed the metal flap back on.
Haphazardly pushing the dirt back over the hole, David considered the ramifications of their little joy ride. If there were gas lines leading back to the mains, remote area or not, things could definitely blow out of control. Pun intended. There were no active threats on their lives, which meant that he had time to work out less crude methods than breaking pipes with a shovel and taping them off with Teflon and leaving it up to chance and the gas company’s safety precautions.
“Hey, Wade,” he called as he moved to set up a block on the side of the propane gas tank. “Come round back when you’re done there. Got a question for you.”
Wade tipped his head to the side as he finished inserting the final remote detonator in his last brick of C4 in the bedroom, then he stood up carefully exited the house by the front door, closing it quietly. That wasn't necessary - as he'd told Angel when he was teaching her about C4, it was one of the most stable explosives available. His caution was borne more of a sense of paranoia and extreme caution than anything else. North was fiddling with the gas line, after all.
Walking around to the back near the propane tank, he quirked an eyebrow at David. "Yes, my young friend? How may I be of service to you? Need you advice on eloquence? Assistance in the arena of love? Restaurant suggestions so we might later partake of delicious enchiladas after this evening of fine entertainment with which I'm providing you?"
“Well, old man,” David replied dryly, leaning casually against the propane tank. The both of them were entirely too unphased by the amount of explosives they were surrounded by. “Providing me with entertainment and then feeding me enchiladas will earn you my rarely gifted company and temporary gratitude.” He tapped the propane tank. “Is this hooked up to any gas lines?”
"Just the one going into the house. We're too far out from the city to have to worry about main lines or anything. But don't worry - I had a truck out yesterday to make sure she was full. We're ready to go whenever you like."
“I like,” the precog smirked, pointing at the pair of C4s perched almost innocently on the tank. “There’s one more of your babies in the pipe leading into the shack. If you grab the equipment and get the car, I’ll turn the gas on the stoves on. Unless you’d rather I puncture an interior piping?”
"Oh, turn the stoves on," Wade said, his expression positively gleeful. He looked fondly at the shack. "This is going to be some very serious overkill - I haven't blown anything up like this in at least a decade."
“A decade,” David seemed to have picked up the habit of repeating every ridiculous phrase that came out of Wade’s mouth. “What a boring life you’ve had.” Although he probably should not speak, considering that he had spent 11 years as a mindless corporate drone. Amusement still dancing in his eyes, he slipped past the mercenary to go back inside the shack, making quick work of taping up the windows before turning on the stove. As he exited, he shoved the welcome mat against the bottom of the door and jogged towards the car where Wade was waiting.
Wade picked up the conversation like it hadn't been interrupted. "At least a decade," he said, emphasizing the word again because it was important to acknowledge the fact that it could have been longer. Sliding into the car, he started her up and reversed, then put her through a three point turn before heading back down the long drive. "The remote will work within a mile of the detonators - there's a good vantage point on a hill maybe half a mile away. Should be far enough to avoid the shrapnel. Probably."
“Boring,” David repeated good-naturedly as he slid into his seat. “This is my third in about six years, I think. “You need to keep up with times, old man. And if half a mile is not enough, I’m sure you’ll make an excellent meat shield.”
"Sure, no problem," Wade said, snorting softly. Then he grinned. "I'll be your meat shield any day, big boy." He spoke as he sped down the driveway, then took a dilapidated looking side road that led its winding way up to the hill he'd mentioned. "Et voila."
Alighting, David shut the door and moved around to the front to lean against the hood of the car. Blue eyes were trained on the shack while he lit another cigarette, briefly wondering if he was getting too much enjoyment out of this. “Light her up, Wadey,” he said. “Honour’s all yours.”
Wade was usually more interested in theatrics when it came to his explosions than he was at the moment, but he wasn't too bothered by that. Rather, he just shifted the detonator in his hand, took a breath, and depressed the button with his thumb.
The explosion that followed was utterly magnificent, beautiful in its destruction - a paradox, a juxtaposition, an enigma of a thing. Propping his back against the car as the flames and smoke billowed skyward, Wade smiled. "Was it good for you, Davy?"
The taciturn man was actually grinning, his eyes dancing with mirth as he surveyed the damage. “Is that what you ask Marie-Ange in your afterglow? Because I dare say that if your skills in bed are as spectacular as that,” he gestured at the cloud of smoke in the near distance where a shack once stood, and arched a single brow with obvious suggestive intent. “The response would be a very satisfied yes, Wadey.”
Wade laughed. What else could he do? "That really was spectacular. Good thinking, turning the gas on inside." He never took his eyes off the inferno below, watching even as it began to die down.
“I do try,” David replied, taking a long, slow drag. His heart rate was gradually slowing to its usual pace as things started to settle down. There were still burning bits of debris and smoke was lazily streaming into the air as the pair watched from their view perch. But, “we should go. Local authorities and all.”
Still grinning, Wade nodded. "On it." He couldn't see any shrapnel from where they were situated, but he was pretty sure the local authorities, when they got there, would find some interesting pieces of scrap metal embedded in various trees surrounding the epicenter of the blast. "I know this barbecue place a little ways outside town. We should get sandwiches." He continued speaking as they climbed back into the car, starting the engine and turning in a wide arch before heading down the road again and out to the main highway. Today had been a good day.
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Date: 2012-06-10 03:30 am (UTC)IS IT IN HUTCH?! IS IT?! XDDDD
...though honestly, hidey hole shacks in MN are likely in the Iron Range. Damn Iron Rangers. Blowing up shacks. :P