[Log] Kid (Shien Mushanokoji), Marco (Reiji Maruko)
Title: Fancy Meeting You Here
Characters: Kid (Shien Mushanokoji) (kellenanne), Marco (Reiji Maruko) (lcpdragonslayer)
Timeline: April 13 1950
Rating: G
Summary: Kid bumps into Marco in the practice shooting range, even though neither of them need target practice. "All Work and No Play" is not something either of them know or understand.
The day had started off quietly; those were the best kind of days, except for the niggling knowledge at the back of his mind that it couldn't be this quiet and peaceful all the time. Then again, Kid mused, maybe that niggling was the bad thing. It just didn't seem bad enough sometimes.
Eh, he worried. He knew it. Still got through every day. And today, the shooting range would get him through the afternoon.
That, and he'd heard rumor Marco might be making the rounds there today. Was enough to get him on his feet and over to the shooting range.
Loud, ringing gunshots resounded in his ears as Marco fired multiple shots at the target. It was a boring, stationary target, and Marco was shooting it blindfolded. He managed to do a smiley face, three bullets to the head and the remainder to vital organs in the body with all the rounds in his gun.
Removing the blindfold and sighing quietly, he discarded the empty cartridge to the side and reloaded. It had been a welcome break between assignments - Marco was just beginning to settle down and like Manhattan, and he was hoping his next file would be a case to work on here as well.
Then again, he always hoped to stay longer in every city he had visited so far.
But Manhattan was different - New York City was different. There were... people here. People he would like to spend time with, lesser people who would breathe down his neck and more things to do and ways to enjoy himself.
A familiar face emerged from Marco's peripheral vision - and just in time for Marco to be the Marco the entire FBI knew; a young, smart greenhorn who was rather lazy and a horrible shot - but at least he was a good tactician and knew how to get the job done. Kid had quickly become a trustworthy colleague and a close friend, and the two of them got along very well. There was nothing quite like lazing around in the office looking at indecent magazines and racing paper planes, and then going out to drink, dance and chat to a few pretty dolls, and Kid was someone Marco could share that with.
Marco knew that Kid knew he was not at all a bad shot, and that there was no point pretending to miss. Still - he felt he had to keep the image up. The first two shots Marco fired went to the right of the head, the third piercing through the shoulder. The fourth might have hit what could have been the right ear, and the fifth flew past the left side of the head.
Lowering the gun a little, Marco looked up and to the side, and his smile widened as if he had just noticed Kid. He placed the gun down, grinning.
"Hey - if it ain't the Kid. What're you doing here? It's not like you need to practice shooting or anything."
Kid returned Marco's grin with a slow smile of his own, touching the brim of his hat. Marco was, well, himself. A little charming, a little charismatic, and whole lot of deception. Kid glanced at the target, noting both the smiley face and the haphazard shots and then back to Marco. "Sometimes," he said, "you just gotta do what you're good at. Makes the day go faster or something."
He let his gaze drift to the target once again and tipped the brim of his hat back. "You sure you don't practice being that bad?"
"Oh really? If only there was something I could be good at," Marco replied, smiling lazily. He followed Kid's gaze to the target.
"You like it? I made it from when I was like five feet away. I think I did pretty well, I'd say." Nothing like a smile full of holes to brighten the day and... make it go faster, perhaps.
Or, well, waste blank shots. To be honest, he was just spending the day here to avoid the office and the mountains of paperwork waiting to be done on his desk. And why not - after that incident with shooting that undercover NYPD 'accidentally', the supervisors hastily approved of him taking the day at the range. He 'needed to improve his aim if he was going to stay out of trouble and get anywhere', or so they said.
He'd like to see them try a 99% accuracy at dropping bombs while flying tens of thousands of feet overhead.
Practice being a bad shot? Marco laughed - but it was true that he had to consciously aim and fire outside of the target.
"Well, someone has to trail behind at the lower tail of the bell curve, just as some others have to be at the excelling end, I'd say."
Kid chuckled easily. So Marco wanted to keep up this charade; that was fine. It wasn't Kid's place to call him out on it. In fact, it would be more trouble than it was worth and he didn't come down here to cause trouble or nothing. He was just looking to kill a few hours and Marco was as good a target as any.
He shook his head. "You overestimate me, friend." He held up his thumb and forefinger, miming pointing a gun at the target. "Ya just point and shoot. Ain't nothing special."
"Said like an expert," Marco noted, smirking. It was hardly as simple as 'just point and shoot' - like everything else, some people were naturally good at 'pointing and shooting' and others would probably shoot their own foot by accident.
"But at least you have a good - or, at least, decent reason for being here. I'm avoiding certain old men and certain stacks of paperwork."
An FBI agent shooting dead an NYPD officer was still hot news circling the law enforcement agencies. With the kind of shot Marco was, though - or at least, the kind of shot everyone thought him to be - no one in the FBI, not even his supervisors, were surprised that something like this happened.
Though, with Kid... Marco had been working on an assignment with Kid in a building shrouded in pitch-black darkness. It was only in the heat of the moment that he let his demeanour drop and pull the trigger. And it was then that it was revealed to Kid that the new recruit who was apparently a horrible shot could bury a bullet in the middle of someone's skull in pitch-black darkness, based solely on the sounds the person made.
Even now, Marco questioned whether the situation had been set up so that he had to reveal his hand to Kid. Kid could have easily been the one who cut the power supply.
If anyone in the FBI suspected foul play, it would be Kid.
Kid ducked his head for a moment, acknowledging that 'expert' crack and letting it go just as quickly. 'Aw, shucks' went a log way in other circles, but Marco'd never let him get away with it here. Still, he was overestimating his ability again and that was something Kid never really got used to.
Ain't no experts in nothing nowhere. 'S just how it was.
"So I heard," he said, looking up again, cocking his head just a little. "Musta missed what you was aiming at." He paused. "Again."
Not that Kid believed for one moment that it had ever happened before.
"Oh, no."
Marco pointed and shot at the target. The first one completely missed, but the second went right through the centre of the forehead. If it had been a real person, and Marco was using real bullets with this gun, he would have blown their brains out.
"On the contrary, I believe I hit the bullseye, I'd say."
He lowered the gun and turned to look at Kid, tilting his head a little and chuckling as if the conversation had nothing to do with the fact that someone was killed.
"Is what you'd want me to say."
No luck getting a straight answer out of Marco - but that was how it had always been, and that is how it always will be.
"Or, at least, it's what you're thinking."
Kid chuckled; he couldn't help it. He knew good and well Marco wouldn't give a straight answer. He never did. Kid didn't expect anything different.
Still had to ask, though. It was the game they played and Kid never did like to shake up the status quo.
He touched the brim of his hat, eyebrow rising and his tone wry. "Well, now, that's not exactly what I said, now is it? I just came down here to get in some practice.
"And I'm just here to kill some time n' avoid the lurking old men," Marco said, his tone as casual as ever. They both knew each other well enough to know that neither of them were what they seemed, and they were both rather good at hitting their targets as well as dodging bullets.
"Anyway, you free tonight? I was thinking we could go out and have dinner. Maybe one too many drinks, pick up a skirt or two, that kinda thing, I'd say. I don't know many places here so you'll have to pick the place."
It was a great chance to spend the night with someone whose company Marco actually enjoyed - someone he did not have to suck up to and pretend to be stupid with, a reliable colleague he could have a good laugh with; an actual friend.
"No pressure of course, but you'll make me a sad and lonely man tonight if you don't."
Kid laughed, a short, soft chuckle that was more acknowledgment than amusement - though he was amused by Marco's invitation. After that conversation, they could just go back to being friends and guys out for a night on the town. Of course, Kid didn't assign the conversation any sort of importance above friendly poking.
So he told himself, at any rate. Whatever came of it... He shrugged.
“I know a few places, here and there. Whatcha up for tonight, eh, friend?”
Marco smirked. Spending the whole day outside of the office and going out for drinks and entertainment in the night - it probably could not get much better than that. It was not exactly a typical undercover operative night, but FBI agents were people as well, and Marco, at least, deserved to have some fun.
From Marco experience, Kid, too, though not too big of a party animal, knew what it meant to have fun.
"I don't know man," he replied, turning and leaning back against the small counter where he left his gun.
"Try me. I'm up for anything you can throw at me... except maybe what happened on that night in Chinatown..."
Those were the epitome of bad memories, even though they were blurry ones.
Kid's eyebrows shut up and he bit back a sudden laugh. That night in Chinatown had been the epitome of bad karma coming back around and destroying every poor bo in its path.
"I ain't set foot in Chinatown since." And hell if he would with Marco in tow.
"Yeah, no. Me neither." And Marco had no intentions to go there anytime soon, even if he was given a case to do there. Especially not with Kid.
They needed to change the topic if the memories were to continue to remain suppressed.
"I really don't know man, I'd say. I got the whole night to kill, and I could take tomorrow off if we end up doing something wild." He would not put it past Kid to find himself in the strangest of places and situations a few hours later, get bombed sometime during the early hours of the morning and wake up on the side of some shady Manhattan alleyway with a massive, throbbing headache.
"Blow me away," Marco said, grinning as he slipped his hands into his pockets.
"If you don't have any ideas, we could always just hit the pubs and get blitzed. Maybe you'll think of something while we groan and stagger down the streets."
"Whole night, huh?" Kid leaned against the counter and gave Marco an amused look. This was trouble waiting to happen; he knew it, Marco knew it. Neither really cared. What was the city if you didn't take advantage of it once in awhile?
"What say we just set off toward some of these pubs?" Kid straightened his jacket collar and rolled his neck. "Know a good place we can try out first. Should be some action." He straightened his hat, ran his fingers over the brim. "Shall we start staggerin' that way?"
"What - right now?" Marco asked, giving Kid an almost incredulous look. He had meant later in the night, when officially office hours were over.
But this was not too bad of a suggestion. After all, it was not like either of them needed any of this target practice to sharpen their skills.
Wandering over, he slipped an arm around the back of Kid's neck, dangling it off his opposite shoulder as he leaned a little against the cowboy. He smirked and raised his eyebrows.
"That's what I like about you, good man. Jumping straight on the gun, knowing the good places to go - I like that, I'd say. Let's go get some 'action'."
Kid returned the smirk before he ducked out from under Marco's arm. "Don't see no sense at all in stickin' around here. God knows we'd find nothing to do."
He saunter toward the doorway and paused there. "Least I can't think of anything better to do." With that, he walked on out, not bothering to look behind to see if Marco followed.
If it involved skipping work, Marco would follow.
Characters: Kid (Shien Mushanokoji) (kellenanne), Marco (Reiji Maruko) (lcpdragonslayer)
Timeline: April 13 1950
Rating: G
Summary: Kid bumps into Marco in the practice shooting range, even though neither of them need target practice. "All Work and No Play" is not something either of them know or understand.
The day had started off quietly; those were the best kind of days, except for the niggling knowledge at the back of his mind that it couldn't be this quiet and peaceful all the time. Then again, Kid mused, maybe that niggling was the bad thing. It just didn't seem bad enough sometimes.
Eh, he worried. He knew it. Still got through every day. And today, the shooting range would get him through the afternoon.
That, and he'd heard rumor Marco might be making the rounds there today. Was enough to get him on his feet and over to the shooting range.
Loud, ringing gunshots resounded in his ears as Marco fired multiple shots at the target. It was a boring, stationary target, and Marco was shooting it blindfolded. He managed to do a smiley face, three bullets to the head and the remainder to vital organs in the body with all the rounds in his gun.
Removing the blindfold and sighing quietly, he discarded the empty cartridge to the side and reloaded. It had been a welcome break between assignments - Marco was just beginning to settle down and like Manhattan, and he was hoping his next file would be a case to work on here as well.
Then again, he always hoped to stay longer in every city he had visited so far.
But Manhattan was different - New York City was different. There were... people here. People he would like to spend time with, lesser people who would breathe down his neck and more things to do and ways to enjoy himself.
A familiar face emerged from Marco's peripheral vision - and just in time for Marco to be the Marco the entire FBI knew; a young, smart greenhorn who was rather lazy and a horrible shot - but at least he was a good tactician and knew how to get the job done. Kid had quickly become a trustworthy colleague and a close friend, and the two of them got along very well. There was nothing quite like lazing around in the office looking at indecent magazines and racing paper planes, and then going out to drink, dance and chat to a few pretty dolls, and Kid was someone Marco could share that with.
Marco knew that Kid knew he was not at all a bad shot, and that there was no point pretending to miss. Still - he felt he had to keep the image up. The first two shots Marco fired went to the right of the head, the third piercing through the shoulder. The fourth might have hit what could have been the right ear, and the fifth flew past the left side of the head.
Lowering the gun a little, Marco looked up and to the side, and his smile widened as if he had just noticed Kid. He placed the gun down, grinning.
"Hey - if it ain't the Kid. What're you doing here? It's not like you need to practice shooting or anything."
Kid returned Marco's grin with a slow smile of his own, touching the brim of his hat. Marco was, well, himself. A little charming, a little charismatic, and whole lot of deception. Kid glanced at the target, noting both the smiley face and the haphazard shots and then back to Marco. "Sometimes," he said, "you just gotta do what you're good at. Makes the day go faster or something."
He let his gaze drift to the target once again and tipped the brim of his hat back. "You sure you don't practice being that bad?"
"Oh really? If only there was something I could be good at," Marco replied, smiling lazily. He followed Kid's gaze to the target.
"You like it? I made it from when I was like five feet away. I think I did pretty well, I'd say." Nothing like a smile full of holes to brighten the day and... make it go faster, perhaps.
Or, well, waste blank shots. To be honest, he was just spending the day here to avoid the office and the mountains of paperwork waiting to be done on his desk. And why not - after that incident with shooting that undercover NYPD 'accidentally', the supervisors hastily approved of him taking the day at the range. He 'needed to improve his aim if he was going to stay out of trouble and get anywhere', or so they said.
He'd like to see them try a 99% accuracy at dropping bombs while flying tens of thousands of feet overhead.
Practice being a bad shot? Marco laughed - but it was true that he had to consciously aim and fire outside of the target.
"Well, someone has to trail behind at the lower tail of the bell curve, just as some others have to be at the excelling end, I'd say."
Kid chuckled easily. So Marco wanted to keep up this charade; that was fine. It wasn't Kid's place to call him out on it. In fact, it would be more trouble than it was worth and he didn't come down here to cause trouble or nothing. He was just looking to kill a few hours and Marco was as good a target as any.
He shook his head. "You overestimate me, friend." He held up his thumb and forefinger, miming pointing a gun at the target. "Ya just point and shoot. Ain't nothing special."
"Said like an expert," Marco noted, smirking. It was hardly as simple as 'just point and shoot' - like everything else, some people were naturally good at 'pointing and shooting' and others would probably shoot their own foot by accident.
"But at least you have a good - or, at least, decent reason for being here. I'm avoiding certain old men and certain stacks of paperwork."
An FBI agent shooting dead an NYPD officer was still hot news circling the law enforcement agencies. With the kind of shot Marco was, though - or at least, the kind of shot everyone thought him to be - no one in the FBI, not even his supervisors, were surprised that something like this happened.
Though, with Kid... Marco had been working on an assignment with Kid in a building shrouded in pitch-black darkness. It was only in the heat of the moment that he let his demeanour drop and pull the trigger. And it was then that it was revealed to Kid that the new recruit who was apparently a horrible shot could bury a bullet in the middle of someone's skull in pitch-black darkness, based solely on the sounds the person made.
Even now, Marco questioned whether the situation had been set up so that he had to reveal his hand to Kid. Kid could have easily been the one who cut the power supply.
If anyone in the FBI suspected foul play, it would be Kid.
Kid ducked his head for a moment, acknowledging that 'expert' crack and letting it go just as quickly. 'Aw, shucks' went a log way in other circles, but Marco'd never let him get away with it here. Still, he was overestimating his ability again and that was something Kid never really got used to.
Ain't no experts in nothing nowhere. 'S just how it was.
"So I heard," he said, looking up again, cocking his head just a little. "Musta missed what you was aiming at." He paused. "Again."
Not that Kid believed for one moment that it had ever happened before.
"Oh, no."
Marco pointed and shot at the target. The first one completely missed, but the second went right through the centre of the forehead. If it had been a real person, and Marco was using real bullets with this gun, he would have blown their brains out.
"On the contrary, I believe I hit the bullseye, I'd say."
He lowered the gun and turned to look at Kid, tilting his head a little and chuckling as if the conversation had nothing to do with the fact that someone was killed.
"Is what you'd want me to say."
No luck getting a straight answer out of Marco - but that was how it had always been, and that is how it always will be.
"Or, at least, it's what you're thinking."
Kid chuckled; he couldn't help it. He knew good and well Marco wouldn't give a straight answer. He never did. Kid didn't expect anything different.
Still had to ask, though. It was the game they played and Kid never did like to shake up the status quo.
He touched the brim of his hat, eyebrow rising and his tone wry. "Well, now, that's not exactly what I said, now is it? I just came down here to get in some practice.
"And I'm just here to kill some time n' avoid the lurking old men," Marco said, his tone as casual as ever. They both knew each other well enough to know that neither of them were what they seemed, and they were both rather good at hitting their targets as well as dodging bullets.
"Anyway, you free tonight? I was thinking we could go out and have dinner. Maybe one too many drinks, pick up a skirt or two, that kinda thing, I'd say. I don't know many places here so you'll have to pick the place."
It was a great chance to spend the night with someone whose company Marco actually enjoyed - someone he did not have to suck up to and pretend to be stupid with, a reliable colleague he could have a good laugh with; an actual friend.
"No pressure of course, but you'll make me a sad and lonely man tonight if you don't."
Kid laughed, a short, soft chuckle that was more acknowledgment than amusement - though he was amused by Marco's invitation. After that conversation, they could just go back to being friends and guys out for a night on the town. Of course, Kid didn't assign the conversation any sort of importance above friendly poking.
So he told himself, at any rate. Whatever came of it... He shrugged.
“I know a few places, here and there. Whatcha up for tonight, eh, friend?”
Marco smirked. Spending the whole day outside of the office and going out for drinks and entertainment in the night - it probably could not get much better than that. It was not exactly a typical undercover operative night, but FBI agents were people as well, and Marco, at least, deserved to have some fun.
From Marco experience, Kid, too, though not too big of a party animal, knew what it meant to have fun.
"I don't know man," he replied, turning and leaning back against the small counter where he left his gun.
"Try me. I'm up for anything you can throw at me... except maybe what happened on that night in Chinatown..."
Those were the epitome of bad memories, even though they were blurry ones.
Kid's eyebrows shut up and he bit back a sudden laugh. That night in Chinatown had been the epitome of bad karma coming back around and destroying every poor bo in its path.
"I ain't set foot in Chinatown since." And hell if he would with Marco in tow.
"Yeah, no. Me neither." And Marco had no intentions to go there anytime soon, even if he was given a case to do there. Especially not with Kid.
They needed to change the topic if the memories were to continue to remain suppressed.
"I really don't know man, I'd say. I got the whole night to kill, and I could take tomorrow off if we end up doing something wild." He would not put it past Kid to find himself in the strangest of places and situations a few hours later, get bombed sometime during the early hours of the morning and wake up on the side of some shady Manhattan alleyway with a massive, throbbing headache.
"Blow me away," Marco said, grinning as he slipped his hands into his pockets.
"If you don't have any ideas, we could always just hit the pubs and get blitzed. Maybe you'll think of something while we groan and stagger down the streets."
"Whole night, huh?" Kid leaned against the counter and gave Marco an amused look. This was trouble waiting to happen; he knew it, Marco knew it. Neither really cared. What was the city if you didn't take advantage of it once in awhile?
"What say we just set off toward some of these pubs?" Kid straightened his jacket collar and rolled his neck. "Know a good place we can try out first. Should be some action." He straightened his hat, ran his fingers over the brim. "Shall we start staggerin' that way?"
"What - right now?" Marco asked, giving Kid an almost incredulous look. He had meant later in the night, when officially office hours were over.
But this was not too bad of a suggestion. After all, it was not like either of them needed any of this target practice to sharpen their skills.
Wandering over, he slipped an arm around the back of Kid's neck, dangling it off his opposite shoulder as he leaned a little against the cowboy. He smirked and raised his eyebrows.
"That's what I like about you, good man. Jumping straight on the gun, knowing the good places to go - I like that, I'd say. Let's go get some 'action'."
Kid returned the smirk before he ducked out from under Marco's arm. "Don't see no sense at all in stickin' around here. God knows we'd find nothing to do."
He saunter toward the doorway and paused there. "Least I can't think of anything better to do." With that, he walked on out, not bothering to look behind to see if Marco followed.
If it involved skipping work, Marco would follow.