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xp_logsDavid and Wade go shopping.
The room was like a mercenary’s playground, hidden discreetly behind a storefront of an Asian convenience store in Brooklyn. David traced a finger over the handle of an Armalite M15 A4 Carbine rifle and quirked a brow at his companion.
“Your kind of candy store, I see.”
Wade grinned. "Uh huh," he said. "I like this one cause it's got more than just guns." He nodded toward the wall of knives to his left but his eyes kept trailing back to the right. That wall was full of older weapons - swords, maces, axes, hammers. There was even a glaive and a pretty impressive looking lance. "See anything you like?"
Sometimes, Wade was entirely too transparent. While the weapons that did not eject projectiles were interesting – and shiny – enough, the both of them knew where David’s real interests lay. He lifted his chin at the sniper rifles stowed safely toward the back of the weapons cache.
“Not to worry, I can find my way around. No need to hold yourself back on my account.”
Wandering off with a friendly wave, Wade headed for the wall of antique weaponry. Just then, the shop's proprietor came through the door that led up front and smiled almost slyly at them. "You've gotten some really great pieces in," Wade commented.
"Yes," the woman said, moving toward him. "Quite a few. No halberd, though."
"I noticed. You'll still keep an eye out for one, right?" Wade gravitated toward the glaive.
"Of course. You want that one?" She nodded toward the weapon he was examining as carefully as he could without actually touching it.
"Yeah. And one of the axes, probably. I'll check out the knives, too. Just gimme a sec." He moved from the glaive to an ax with a handle of dark wood and a wide, wicked looking blade. "And whatever he's getting I'll pay for," the mercenary added as an afterthought, indicating David.
“Please, do not bother,” the German man replied, not in the least ashamed about listening in. The room was not all that big, and it echoed. “I am not shopping for myself today. And it would not be much of a gift if I were to let you pay for me.”
His purchases were not as exotic as Wade’s – why on Earth the ex-mercenary needed a halberd polearm was a mystery he felt was better left unsolved – but it did raise his brows to see a good number of military grade guns in the stash. The marksman in him had perked up when he lifted a military HK417 sniper model of genuine German make from a crate and ran through a series of checks with it.
“Do you happen to have a M39 around here?” David asked as he worked. He had seen a M40 on a wall rack ahead of him, but it would not quite suit the needs he was looking to meet.
"Yes," the woman answered, moving toward the back of the room. She slipped through a second door, emerging a few minutes later with the weapon he'd specified. She brought it to him, case and all.
Wade watched for a few moments, then wandered over to the wall of knives. "Who're you buying for?"
“Our newest stray,” David replied, not entirely comfortable with actually saying Artie’s name. He accepted the case with a word of thanks and passed the HK417 to her, flipping open the case and doing a brief check. “I will take both of these, plus ammo.”
"Lovely," she answered, smiling. "I take only cash."
Wade snorted, glad he'd warned his friend about that little caveat even though he'd intended to pay for everything himself.
“The HK417 I will keep,” David said, wandering over to where Wade was and peering at a small set of throwing blades. “But the boy has potential to become a good shot. I have him on assault rifles now, but give or take a couple of months and I think I can let him try a hand at long distance shooting. Somehow American military guns make for good starting points.”
"Can't ever start 'em too young," Wade said, picking up one of a simple set of throwing stars and smiling. "I made him go running with me, once. Poor kid."
A corner of David's lips quirked upwards. "He does not complain much, yes?" It was his favourite quality so far.
"Nope, he doesn't," Wade said, grinning. "He just stoically glares while jogging through the wind and rain."
David allowed the smirk to fully form as he carefully picked up a wickedly sharp dagger and spun the hilt in one hand, turning so he had his back against the shelf.
“So…” The spy gestured casually at the weapons cache they were in. “Where are the flamethrowers and cannonballs? Your shopping list was very specific. And woefully inadequate, apparently.”
Grinning, Wade said, "Next stop. This is purely for the shiny stuff."
“Fair enough. Excuse me while I allow the lady to relieve me of this thick wad of green paper,” David mock-saluted him, lifting the dagger’s scabbard off its display case and wandering over to the proprietor who still had not lost the sly look to her face.
Several minutes later - and several thousand dollars lighter - the pair made their way out of the building via the back door after arranging for the majority of their purchases to be delivered to a nondescript, neutral location for pickup. "Our next stop's not far - we can walk." He fiddled with his newest set of throwing knives, now comfortably resting in his wrist sheathes, and headed in the appropriate direction.
They hadn't made it two blocks before a pair of men fell in behind them. Moments later and several more men stepped out of an alleyway ahead of them. Wade paused briefly to evaluate the situation, then looked toward North with a mixture of incredulity and amusement on his face. "Seriously?"
His companion shrugged, the wry expression clear on his face despite the dark aviators that shielded half of it from view. He had a gun in his shoulder holster, hidden under his trenchcoat, and a new shiny knife strapped to his ankle. Still, he did not think a couple of street thugs warranted fatal wounds, really. “They do not usually come very smart, no?”
"Shut the fuck up," one of the men in front of them growled. "Hand over your cash and we won't gut you."
"See, now," Wade said, his tone infinitely pleasant. "That'd be a lot more threatening if I hadn't basically been gutted once already." He quirked an eyebrow in North's general direction. "We should give them a chance to run, shouldn't we? It's only fair."
“I am all for chances, you know that,” David nodded, laying on the accent a bit thick and slipping his hands into his coat pockets with a congenial enough quirk to his lips. The man nearest to him bristled and cracked his knuckles. Posturing. Posturing wasted so much time, but he supposed men of their age had to get their entertainment from somewhere. “But question is: Are they smart enough to take it?”
"Probably not," Wade answered, keeping his eyes on the fellow behind the talker. That guy'd just pulled a switchblade from his pocket and started playing with it - swish clack, swish clack.
"I said - " The talker didn't get a chance to finish speaking. The man behind him moved forward, coming at Wade with a vicious sort of speed that the mercenary almost admired. Grinning even as the other players closed in on them, he ducked the swiped aimed at his throat, rolled to the side, and flicked his wrist.
A moment later and a throwing knife had sprouted out of his attacker's shoulder, disabling the arm and hand with which he held the switchblade. "Told you," he called to David.
David’s reply came by way of a man crumpling to the floor, head thunking loudly against an aluminium bat. The spy had another thug disabled and whimpering in his grip, hand twisted back and up, flat against his back in a painful hold. David tilted his head down so that he could peer over the tops of his sunglasses at him.
“I think this one should be in school.”
The one Wade had hit with the throwing knife decided cowardice was the better part of valor and took off running. Clucking his tongue as he slammed a final attacker against the wall nearest him, the mercenary shook his head. "For shame, corrupting the youth the way you have." He shifted his grip on the thug's neck, cutting off his airway as the man scrabbled at his hands. "You really should look into a different career path." Once the man's struggling had stopped and he'd gone limp, Wade let him drop the ground.
With a push, David shoved their young attacker away and watched dispassionately as he fell to the floor before scrambling up and fleeing, stumbling clumsily over his own feet.
“Well,” he said, turning back to Wade with a shrug. “I suppose that was our exercise for today.”
Grinning, Wade said, "Shopping for guns and a fight!" Then realization dawned and he scowled. "Damn it. That guy ran off with one of my new throwing knives."
David blinked at his companion, then shook his head and pushed his shades further up his nose. “Calm your broken heart. You can buy a flamethrower to make up for it.”
Wade's mouth popped open to argue about the importance of his lost throwing knife, only then he realized North had a point. Grinning, the mercenary said, "Okay, good point. So - next stop, the store with all the fun explosives!"
The room was like a mercenary’s playground, hidden discreetly behind a storefront of an Asian convenience store in Brooklyn. David traced a finger over the handle of an Armalite M15 A4 Carbine rifle and quirked a brow at his companion.
“Your kind of candy store, I see.”
Wade grinned. "Uh huh," he said. "I like this one cause it's got more than just guns." He nodded toward the wall of knives to his left but his eyes kept trailing back to the right. That wall was full of older weapons - swords, maces, axes, hammers. There was even a glaive and a pretty impressive looking lance. "See anything you like?"
Sometimes, Wade was entirely too transparent. While the weapons that did not eject projectiles were interesting – and shiny – enough, the both of them knew where David’s real interests lay. He lifted his chin at the sniper rifles stowed safely toward the back of the weapons cache.
“Not to worry, I can find my way around. No need to hold yourself back on my account.”
Wandering off with a friendly wave, Wade headed for the wall of antique weaponry. Just then, the shop's proprietor came through the door that led up front and smiled almost slyly at them. "You've gotten some really great pieces in," Wade commented.
"Yes," the woman said, moving toward him. "Quite a few. No halberd, though."
"I noticed. You'll still keep an eye out for one, right?" Wade gravitated toward the glaive.
"Of course. You want that one?" She nodded toward the weapon he was examining as carefully as he could without actually touching it.
"Yeah. And one of the axes, probably. I'll check out the knives, too. Just gimme a sec." He moved from the glaive to an ax with a handle of dark wood and a wide, wicked looking blade. "And whatever he's getting I'll pay for," the mercenary added as an afterthought, indicating David.
“Please, do not bother,” the German man replied, not in the least ashamed about listening in. The room was not all that big, and it echoed. “I am not shopping for myself today. And it would not be much of a gift if I were to let you pay for me.”
His purchases were not as exotic as Wade’s – why on Earth the ex-mercenary needed a halberd polearm was a mystery he felt was better left unsolved – but it did raise his brows to see a good number of military grade guns in the stash. The marksman in him had perked up when he lifted a military HK417 sniper model of genuine German make from a crate and ran through a series of checks with it.
“Do you happen to have a M39 around here?” David asked as he worked. He had seen a M40 on a wall rack ahead of him, but it would not quite suit the needs he was looking to meet.
"Yes," the woman answered, moving toward the back of the room. She slipped through a second door, emerging a few minutes later with the weapon he'd specified. She brought it to him, case and all.
Wade watched for a few moments, then wandered over to the wall of knives. "Who're you buying for?"
“Our newest stray,” David replied, not entirely comfortable with actually saying Artie’s name. He accepted the case with a word of thanks and passed the HK417 to her, flipping open the case and doing a brief check. “I will take both of these, plus ammo.”
"Lovely," she answered, smiling. "I take only cash."
Wade snorted, glad he'd warned his friend about that little caveat even though he'd intended to pay for everything himself.
“The HK417 I will keep,” David said, wandering over to where Wade was and peering at a small set of throwing blades. “But the boy has potential to become a good shot. I have him on assault rifles now, but give or take a couple of months and I think I can let him try a hand at long distance shooting. Somehow American military guns make for good starting points.”
"Can't ever start 'em too young," Wade said, picking up one of a simple set of throwing stars and smiling. "I made him go running with me, once. Poor kid."
A corner of David's lips quirked upwards. "He does not complain much, yes?" It was his favourite quality so far.
"Nope, he doesn't," Wade said, grinning. "He just stoically glares while jogging through the wind and rain."
David allowed the smirk to fully form as he carefully picked up a wickedly sharp dagger and spun the hilt in one hand, turning so he had his back against the shelf.
“So…” The spy gestured casually at the weapons cache they were in. “Where are the flamethrowers and cannonballs? Your shopping list was very specific. And woefully inadequate, apparently.”
Grinning, Wade said, "Next stop. This is purely for the shiny stuff."
“Fair enough. Excuse me while I allow the lady to relieve me of this thick wad of green paper,” David mock-saluted him, lifting the dagger’s scabbard off its display case and wandering over to the proprietor who still had not lost the sly look to her face.
Several minutes later - and several thousand dollars lighter - the pair made their way out of the building via the back door after arranging for the majority of their purchases to be delivered to a nondescript, neutral location for pickup. "Our next stop's not far - we can walk." He fiddled with his newest set of throwing knives, now comfortably resting in his wrist sheathes, and headed in the appropriate direction.
They hadn't made it two blocks before a pair of men fell in behind them. Moments later and several more men stepped out of an alleyway ahead of them. Wade paused briefly to evaluate the situation, then looked toward North with a mixture of incredulity and amusement on his face. "Seriously?"
His companion shrugged, the wry expression clear on his face despite the dark aviators that shielded half of it from view. He had a gun in his shoulder holster, hidden under his trenchcoat, and a new shiny knife strapped to his ankle. Still, he did not think a couple of street thugs warranted fatal wounds, really. “They do not usually come very smart, no?”
"Shut the fuck up," one of the men in front of them growled. "Hand over your cash and we won't gut you."
"See, now," Wade said, his tone infinitely pleasant. "That'd be a lot more threatening if I hadn't basically been gutted once already." He quirked an eyebrow in North's general direction. "We should give them a chance to run, shouldn't we? It's only fair."
“I am all for chances, you know that,” David nodded, laying on the accent a bit thick and slipping his hands into his coat pockets with a congenial enough quirk to his lips. The man nearest to him bristled and cracked his knuckles. Posturing. Posturing wasted so much time, but he supposed men of their age had to get their entertainment from somewhere. “But question is: Are they smart enough to take it?”
"Probably not," Wade answered, keeping his eyes on the fellow behind the talker. That guy'd just pulled a switchblade from his pocket and started playing with it - swish clack, swish clack.
"I said - " The talker didn't get a chance to finish speaking. The man behind him moved forward, coming at Wade with a vicious sort of speed that the mercenary almost admired. Grinning even as the other players closed in on them, he ducked the swiped aimed at his throat, rolled to the side, and flicked his wrist.
A moment later and a throwing knife had sprouted out of his attacker's shoulder, disabling the arm and hand with which he held the switchblade. "Told you," he called to David.
David’s reply came by way of a man crumpling to the floor, head thunking loudly against an aluminium bat. The spy had another thug disabled and whimpering in his grip, hand twisted back and up, flat against his back in a painful hold. David tilted his head down so that he could peer over the tops of his sunglasses at him.
“I think this one should be in school.”
The one Wade had hit with the throwing knife decided cowardice was the better part of valor and took off running. Clucking his tongue as he slammed a final attacker against the wall nearest him, the mercenary shook his head. "For shame, corrupting the youth the way you have." He shifted his grip on the thug's neck, cutting off his airway as the man scrabbled at his hands. "You really should look into a different career path." Once the man's struggling had stopped and he'd gone limp, Wade let him drop the ground.
With a push, David shoved their young attacker away and watched dispassionately as he fell to the floor before scrambling up and fleeing, stumbling clumsily over his own feet.
“Well,” he said, turning back to Wade with a shrug. “I suppose that was our exercise for today.”
Grinning, Wade said, "Shopping for guns and a fight!" Then realization dawned and he scowled. "Damn it. That guy ran off with one of my new throwing knives."
David blinked at his companion, then shook his head and pushed his shades further up his nose. “Calm your broken heart. You can buy a flamethrower to make up for it.”
Wade's mouth popped open to argue about the importance of his lost throwing knife, only then he realized North had a point. Grinning, the mercenary said, "Okay, good point. So - next stop, the store with all the fun explosives!"
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