New York City, Tuesday 2008: A Doctor's office...
Marty sat in the examination room trying to figure out some way to get the paper gown they make you wear to at least cover his more private areas. Unsuccessfully.
"Can you explain to me why I have to wear this get-up if they're only taking a blood sample?" he grumped, as he shifted again to get the gown to cover his back.
Angela shot him a look. "At least you don't have to deal with stirrups." She was nervous, though, and glancing at the door impatiently.
Marty opened his mouth to say something and quickly shut it again before adding, "Good point."
He let out a small sigh and shifted again. "It could be worse."
At that point there was a knock at the door. "Everyone decent in there?" came the jovial voice.
Yes," Marty called out, rolling his eyes at Angela. "Come in."
The door opened and a tall, beefy man dressed as a doctor entered the room. He gave Marty a scary little grin.
"Maaaaartin," Grocer said congenially. "What's it been? Two? Three years?"
Marty quickly jumped off the examination table and began to eye the room, looking for anything to use as a weapon, trying to move in between Angela and Grocer. "Not long enough," came the terse reply.
Angela backed against the wall, face tense. "Marty? What's going on?" she demanded, trying and mostly failing to keep her voice calm.
"Who's that, Blank?" Grocer said, continuing to circle around the room with Marty. "The little lady? Got a little bun in the oven, huh? Didn't I give you the talk about the birds and the bees?"
"This is an old friend," Marty said, trying to push Angela to the door. "And if he knows what's good for him he'll let you walk out the door without any problems."
"Whaaaat?" Grocer said, looking hurt. "Violence? Moi? Pfft. Blank, you wound me. I just want to talk. Surely two professionals can do that now can't they?"
Grocer gave Angela a little nod to the door. "Your little friend is safe as pie. This is just talk, Blank. Nothing else."
Angela felt a sudden surge of fierceness at the man's dismissal of her. "If you're just going to talk," she said, stepping toward Marty and away from the door, "you can do it with me here. I'm not leaving."
"Angela?" Marty said quietly. "Let's not argue with the hired killer who just wants to talk."
Grocer turned to give Angela a warning glance. "You better listen to your boyfriend, kid. Let that maternal instinct take over for that little bouncing baby Blank in your belly."
Angela wibbled, assessing the room. One door, no windows, no easy way out. If the man wanted to leave, he'd have to go past her. "If you're not both out in five minutes, or if I hear anything louder than people talking, I'm calling 911," she warned, then backed out the door.
"Did you hear that, Blank?" Grocer said pretending to tremble as Angela left. "She's going to call 911. I'm frightened. Hold me."
"What do you want, Grocer?"
"I'm setting up a concern that would enable those of us in our rarefied profession to consolidate our efforts," Grocer said amiably. "You know. Like a union. A club. Work less, make more."
"No thanks," Marty replied, trying to remain dignified in his paper robe. "I'm out."
"We could be working together, making big money, killing important people... I'm willing to let you in on the ground floor."
"And you would be what? A father figure to me?" Marty snarked.
"Hey, if you want a father figure, I'll give you a spanking!" Grocer snarked back. "Hey c'mon, it's a freemarket evolution. The wall came down and the market's been flooded with East European hacks ever since. C'mon Kid. We used to run together when you were a rookie. I don't want to run against you. This thing's real. Everybody's in."
"Everyone?" Marty said, tilting his head and feigning interest. "Well, not me. So don't paw at me with your dirty little guild."
"Oh yeah?" Grocer growled, his cheerful demeanor gone. "Well, you think about this, junior!"
"Not a chance."
"You got 24 hours, kid," Grocer snapped back. "Think about your future because if doesn't involve us, it doesn't involve anyone. That includes your little dye-jobbed knocked-up bimbo. You get me?"
"Get me? Get back," Marty growled. "Get out."
Grocer pointed at him and backed his way to the door of the exam room. "24 hours kid. Back here in 24 hours."
He then gave his old associate a shark-like grin. "Bing. Bing. Bang. Popcorn!" he said popping his hand open like he was doing jazz hands and then exited through the door.
Marty grabbed his clothes, stopping only to put on his pants halfway, as he hopped out the door to find.... no one. No Grocer...
And more importantly: no Angela...
There was no Angela because the Grocer wasn't the only one to have figured out the fake clinic ruse. The two men in scrubs who approached Angela moments she reluctantly closed the door were also in on it. Agents Lardner and McCullers each thought he looked dashing and the other looked like an idiot; they were both half wrong.
"Angela Chase?" Lardner said, reaching a hand out to politely but firmly grasp her arm. "You need to come with us, ma'am."
"Miss," McCullers corrected as he did the same, as both Lardner and Angela looked at him blankly. "She's under 21. She's a miss, even if she is smuggling around a basketball."
Lardner snorted. "You're always classy, you know that? But her date of birth is four-twenty-nine-seventy-nine. She's damn near 30."
"She ain't nowhere near thirty," McCullers argued. "They went to that weird-ass high school in Virginia, with the time traveling. She's nineteen, give or take, same as him."
Lardner rolled his eyes slightly. "Great. They stuck us on one of those cases."
Angela barely noticed their banter as the two men frogmarched her to a waiting sedan. She was too frightened to scream.
When she finally found her tongue, she said: "My boyfriend will be looking for me."
"Fantastic," Lardner said genially, handling paperwork as McCullers drove. "Let him look. He's not killing people when he does that."
"Probably not killing people," McCullers corrected. They were at a stoplight; he swiveled as he talked to Angela. "We're federal agents, Miss Chase. I'm McCullers, this is Lardner. We are investigating the murders your boyfriend was involved in. We need to see him for questioning."
"That was a long time ago," Angela said, mouth dry. "He doesn't do that anymore. And besides, he was -"
"A minor," Lardner said dryly. "I know, we've read the reports. But if he's old enough to get a job shooting people, he's old enough to face the consequences. Which" -- he held a hand up to stop Angela's protest -- "will be a lot less severe if you convince him to come in before we have to try the direct approach." Seeing the question in Angela's eyes, he mimed a gun. "Bang."
McCullers nodded firmly, supporting his partner's plan.
Angela's mouth and throat were dry. "So if I tell him to come in," she said hesitantly, "you'll let him off? Because he's talking to some guy called Grocer right now, and I don't th-think he's very nice."
The two agents exchanged concerned glances. "Shit, Grocer found him first," Lardner said. "Let her out, Ken. We got bigger fish to fry."
McCullers pulled over to the curb and unlocked the back door of the sedan, then walked around to open it. "Make sure you tell your boyfriend what we said, Miss Chase," he noted. "It would be a shame if we had to call your parents."
That was all it took for Angela to start sobbing where she stood.
[ooc: Preplayed with the sensational chasingangela NFI though OOC is loooooooove]
"Can you explain to me why I have to wear this get-up if they're only taking a blood sample?" he grumped, as he shifted again to get the gown to cover his back.
Angela shot him a look. "At least you don't have to deal with stirrups." She was nervous, though, and glancing at the door impatiently.
Marty opened his mouth to say something and quickly shut it again before adding, "Good point."
He let out a small sigh and shifted again. "It could be worse."
At that point there was a knock at the door. "Everyone decent in there?" came the jovial voice.
Yes," Marty called out, rolling his eyes at Angela. "Come in."
The door opened and a tall, beefy man dressed as a doctor entered the room. He gave Marty a scary little grin.
"Maaaaartin," Grocer said congenially. "What's it been? Two? Three years?"
Marty quickly jumped off the examination table and began to eye the room, looking for anything to use as a weapon, trying to move in between Angela and Grocer. "Not long enough," came the terse reply.
Angela backed against the wall, face tense. "Marty? What's going on?" she demanded, trying and mostly failing to keep her voice calm.
"Who's that, Blank?" Grocer said, continuing to circle around the room with Marty. "The little lady? Got a little bun in the oven, huh? Didn't I give you the talk about the birds and the bees?"
"This is an old friend," Marty said, trying to push Angela to the door. "And if he knows what's good for him he'll let you walk out the door without any problems."
"Whaaaat?" Grocer said, looking hurt. "Violence? Moi? Pfft. Blank, you wound me. I just want to talk. Surely two professionals can do that now can't they?"
Grocer gave Angela a little nod to the door. "Your little friend is safe as pie. This is just talk, Blank. Nothing else."
Angela felt a sudden surge of fierceness at the man's dismissal of her. "If you're just going to talk," she said, stepping toward Marty and away from the door, "you can do it with me here. I'm not leaving."
"Angela?" Marty said quietly. "Let's not argue with the hired killer who just wants to talk."
Grocer turned to give Angela a warning glance. "You better listen to your boyfriend, kid. Let that maternal instinct take over for that little bouncing baby Blank in your belly."
Angela wibbled, assessing the room. One door, no windows, no easy way out. If the man wanted to leave, he'd have to go past her. "If you're not both out in five minutes, or if I hear anything louder than people talking, I'm calling 911," she warned, then backed out the door.
"Did you hear that, Blank?" Grocer said pretending to tremble as Angela left. "She's going to call 911. I'm frightened. Hold me."
"What do you want, Grocer?"
"I'm setting up a concern that would enable those of us in our rarefied profession to consolidate our efforts," Grocer said amiably. "You know. Like a union. A club. Work less, make more."
"No thanks," Marty replied, trying to remain dignified in his paper robe. "I'm out."
"We could be working together, making big money, killing important people... I'm willing to let you in on the ground floor."
"And you would be what? A father figure to me?" Marty snarked.
"Hey, if you want a father figure, I'll give you a spanking!" Grocer snarked back. "Hey c'mon, it's a freemarket evolution. The wall came down and the market's been flooded with East European hacks ever since. C'mon Kid. We used to run together when you were a rookie. I don't want to run against you. This thing's real. Everybody's in."
"Everyone?" Marty said, tilting his head and feigning interest. "Well, not me. So don't paw at me with your dirty little guild."
"Oh yeah?" Grocer growled, his cheerful demeanor gone. "Well, you think about this, junior!"
"Not a chance."
"You got 24 hours, kid," Grocer snapped back. "Think about your future because if doesn't involve us, it doesn't involve anyone. That includes your little dye-jobbed knocked-up bimbo. You get me?"
"Get me? Get back," Marty growled. "Get out."
Grocer pointed at him and backed his way to the door of the exam room. "24 hours kid. Back here in 24 hours."
He then gave his old associate a shark-like grin. "Bing. Bing. Bang. Popcorn!" he said popping his hand open like he was doing jazz hands and then exited through the door.
Marty grabbed his clothes, stopping only to put on his pants halfway, as he hopped out the door to find.... no one. No Grocer...
And more importantly: no Angela...
There was no Angela because the Grocer wasn't the only one to have figured out the fake clinic ruse. The two men in scrubs who approached Angela moments she reluctantly closed the door were also in on it. Agents Lardner and McCullers each thought he looked dashing and the other looked like an idiot; they were both half wrong.
"Angela Chase?" Lardner said, reaching a hand out to politely but firmly grasp her arm. "You need to come with us, ma'am."
"Miss," McCullers corrected as he did the same, as both Lardner and Angela looked at him blankly. "She's under 21. She's a miss, even if she is smuggling around a basketball."
Lardner snorted. "You're always classy, you know that? But her date of birth is four-twenty-nine-seventy-nine. She's damn near 30."
"She ain't nowhere near thirty," McCullers argued. "They went to that weird-ass high school in Virginia, with the time traveling. She's nineteen, give or take, same as him."
Lardner rolled his eyes slightly. "Great. They stuck us on one of those cases."
Angela barely noticed their banter as the two men frogmarched her to a waiting sedan. She was too frightened to scream.
When she finally found her tongue, she said: "My boyfriend will be looking for me."
"Fantastic," Lardner said genially, handling paperwork as McCullers drove. "Let him look. He's not killing people when he does that."
"Probably not killing people," McCullers corrected. They were at a stoplight; he swiveled as he talked to Angela. "We're federal agents, Miss Chase. I'm McCullers, this is Lardner. We are investigating the murders your boyfriend was involved in. We need to see him for questioning."
"That was a long time ago," Angela said, mouth dry. "He doesn't do that anymore. And besides, he was -"
"A minor," Lardner said dryly. "I know, we've read the reports. But if he's old enough to get a job shooting people, he's old enough to face the consequences. Which" -- he held a hand up to stop Angela's protest -- "will be a lot less severe if you convince him to come in before we have to try the direct approach." Seeing the question in Angela's eyes, he mimed a gun. "Bang."
McCullers nodded firmly, supporting his partner's plan.
Angela's mouth and throat were dry. "So if I tell him to come in," she said hesitantly, "you'll let him off? Because he's talking to some guy called Grocer right now, and I don't th-think he's very nice."
The two agents exchanged concerned glances. "Shit, Grocer found him first," Lardner said. "Let her out, Ken. We got bigger fish to fry."
McCullers pulled over to the curb and unlocked the back door of the sedan, then walked around to open it. "Make sure you tell your boyfriend what we said, Miss Chase," he noted. "It would be a shame if we had to call your parents."
That was all it took for Angela to start sobbing where she stood.
[ooc: Preplayed with the sensational chasingangela NFI though OOC is loooooooove]