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KnightDisciple

Don't Forget the Good Silver (IC)

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Evening, Skies Above Southside

It had been a fairly quiet evening for Gabriel. Despite the weather being more pleasant, and thus more conducive to crime, he'd only stopped two muggings and one store robbery. It seemed crime was genuinely down in the area, if not eliminated entirely.

'I suppose human nature means it'll never go away entirely.'

He was flying slowly through the air, occasionally stopping to listen for cries of help. He was still getting used to this new "twist" on his powers, but he had a decent handle on it these days. After a minute of listening, he continued on to the warehouse district. Here, he was more cautious, as gangs sometimes roamed this area, and he wasn't exactly a subtle presence.

He was letting his eyes wander the area when something caught his attention. It seemed to be the light from a flashlight playing against the window of what ought to be an abandoned warehouse's office. He frowned and started carefully flying closer.

'Hn. Wonder what this is about...'

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The incomparable Bombshell was, as usual, up to no good. A bored Bombshell was a reckless Bombshell and the minimal security on the empty warehouse wasn't anything like a challenge. She'd simply landed on the roof and shimmied her way through a cracked window panel and voila, instant access. Such as it was. Her lip curled up slightly as she pulled the palm sized flashlight from the small belt around her hips and took her first look around. Boxes and papers. Oh, WHY couldn't there be an old computer instead.

Sighing, Bombshell put the small flashlight between her teeth and crouched down next to the still locked, but dented filing cabinet and started to work at the lock. She'd found in a long and perhaps, slightly spotted, career that the best stuff usually was behind lock and key.

Crouched, her black leather body suit helped her hide in the shadows, but the small domino mask only covered her eyes and her golden hair was loose down her back. To say nothing of the bright light carefully held between her teeth and aimed at the lock she was deftly popping open.

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Gabriel had flown close enough to look in one of the broken windows. For several moments, he watched what was going on. He took a few glances around. No sign she had backup, and she didn't look to be part of the police. Sighing, he reached up and rapped sharply on the window frame. When she looked over, he projected his voice inside to her. Bombshell would hear him as if he were standing right next to her, not several feet away and on the other side of a window.

"Pardon me, miss, but I don't believe you're part of the staff here. Not that this place likely has any staff, but...I'm going to have to ask what you're doing here, as well as asking you to come with me for a chat. I'm sure we can do this peaceably."

He floated there, arms crossed over his chest, metal armor gleaming and white coat flapping in the wind. His expression was, if not friendly, at least not hostile. He seemed to be patiently waiting for her response.

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Bombshell glanced up at the polite knock and rolled her eyes at the hero - the white and gold was a good hint, to say nothing of the polite knock on the glass. She paused to hold up one slender, gloved finger and then finished with the rusty lock. When it gave way with a satisfying click, she reached up to retrieve the flashlight and turn it off, slipping it back in her belt.

"No, it's warehouse, they generally have thugs if they have anyone t'all," she responded, her words clipped and precise, the accent distinctly British and upper-class. She shifted slightly so that her knees were under her and glanced up, arching one brow, her smile slow and lazy, "I'm going through their records, to answer your first question and JUST as soon as I've done that, I'd be happy to entertain you in what ever fashion you're looking for."

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Gabriel's face shifted into a frown as Bombshell spoke. Her response was flippant, to say nothing of her blatant attempt to distract him with her "wiles". Still, she wasn't being threatening in any way, so he wasn't willing to use any force.

'Joy. An uppity Englishwoman who likes sneaking into buildings. Just what I needed on my patrol night. And here I thought it was going to be a quiet night.'

With a sigh, he pushed on the window for a moment. When it didn't budge, he glanced around, before sighing again. The hero in silver and white laid both hands on the glass pane, which vibrated in place for a moment before all but disintegrating, the tiny particles of debris falling to the floor. He floated himself through the clean opening, settling to the floor of the room with his arms once more crossed over his chest. He stayed well back from the femme fatale, but still made no hostile moves.

"Why are you going through their records? Unless you are, in fact, part of the police. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask that you take a moment to speak with me."

He mulled the situation over for a moment, before adding something else; she seemed familiar somehow, but he couldn't place her face, and maybe getting her name could straighten the whole situation out for both of them.

"My name is Gabriel, Miss...?"

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"Bombshell. Just Bombshell is fine," she said, her tone amused. She cocked her head at him, taking in the entire look. "Personally, I always go for a bit more color but the floating and the cape does have its panache..."

Her lips quirked in a secretive smile, as if she was laughing at her own inner monologue for a moment. She turned back towards the filing cabinet and started to wiggle it open, "To answer your question, because personally, I always have found the 'wander rooftops until SOMETHING happens' a terrible waste of time. Really, a little preparation, a bit of elbow grease. Honestly, it's a wonder that this generation survives at all."

With a creak the old cabinet separated, sending up a little puff of dust. Bombshell waved one hand in front of her face to clear it and then carefully eased the drawer until it rested on the ground. "Besides just *looking* isn't a crime and there isn't anything here worth taking. It's all already been lifted. I looked."

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He stood there for several moments, silently considering her words.

'Bombshell, Bombshell...Ahah! Yes, I got it now. Hm. Interesting.'

Finally, Gabriel spoke again, his tone and posture relaxing slightly.

"I've heard of you, Bombshell. Good and bad. But all things considered, I'll trust you're here to do the right thing. It wouldn't be fair if I didn't give you a chance, all things being equal. Plus, I've worked with your...romantic interest, Scarab. We fought trolls and evil sorcerers in some strange fantasy dimension. Never did get a clear picture of what exactly the bloody place was, but eh."

He smirked a bit.

"Have to say, English humor still holds the same dry irony it always has. After all, I have more color than you, when all is said and done, Ms. Dress In All Black."

He uncrossed his arms and moved a bit closer, peering at the drawer on the floor.

"While I'm not terribly territorial, I do try to keep an eye on Southside. I haven't heard any rumors of bigger gang activity or the like of late, despite trying to keep my ear to the ground on such things. Are you tracking something in particular, or is this just general reconnaissance? That said, "this generation" does just fine, ma'am. "

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Bombshell laughed. It was a husky sound that spoke of all sorts of naughty things but was genuine amusement. "Let's make a deal right now. I won't comment about your generation, and you can skip ma'am'ing me. It makes me feel my age."

Still chuckling, she waved one gloved hand, "And I meant for the cape and cowl look. Personally, I prefer a 'don't shoot me' sort of motif but my 'romantic interest' as you so quaintly put it wears bright red. Believe me, I've given my thoughts on perhaps a more 'low profile' ensemble so as to perhaps draw less bullets. But if you've met her, I'm sure you're aware that she can be... quite set in her ways."

Bombshell's lips quirked and she wiggled her fingers to invite him closer, reaching once again for the light on her waist to shine into the drawer, "Social niceties aside, no, there's not been any word on this street but this place... looks funny, at least to someone with an eye like mine. As I said, there's nothing of value downstairs BUT there are some odd voids in the layers of dirt. And this office," She flashed the light around it, "It's cleaner than it should be. Which generally means that someone's been using a nice big, abandoned place to do things that the upright sort generally disapprove of."

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, "Which is way I always preferred smaller one man jobs. Thievery tends to fall down as a career when you involve careless thugs."

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Gabriel smirked at the comment, though he shook his head a bit.

'Not a bad try there, Bombshell, but not nearly good enough to phase me...'

"I'll just go with "Bombshell" or "miss", then. Call it my compromise of politeness. Miss."

A mischievous grin was on his face now as he moved a bit closer and crouched down to examine what she was indicating.

"The outfit gets the job done. Besides, while avoiding being shot is nice, it happens sometimes. I've learned that some good metal between you and the bad guys doesn't hurt you."

He tapped on the breastplate with his mailed left hand.

"This would have been handy...goodness, I guess it was almost a year ago now some super-ghouls nearly gutted me...Anyways."

He shook his head, as if to chase away memories.

"I'll trust your judgement about the overall look. You're right, too. This place does look cleaner than you'd think. But the real question is: Are they stealing things, or selling things? I haven't dealt with quite as many drug and weapons dealers in the last couple of months, but those sorts never entirely go away. It's enough to make me want to get a bit rougher, those sorts selling drugs and guns to 14-year-old kids..."

His eyes cloud with anger for a moment, and it's clear this sort of thing is a sore spot for him.

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"Must be faster than bullets. Or just hard to see. Although the armor is shiny and likely effective at the stopping of projectiles, it would slow me down too much. Besides, silver never has been my color," she smiled faintly at that and then glanced over to give him her full attention as he went down the possible list. Despite her flippant nature, Bombshell did turn her head to listen and give his thoughts weight. It wasn't her turf and she was happy to get clues from any source and the word of a hero that patrolled these areas was an excellent source indeed.

"Mmm," Bombshell murmured and slid her gloved fingertips through the old paperwork still in the drawer idly as he talked, "I have a bad habit of tripping over arms dealers, I will admit, but I think that's more likely than drugs. Frankly, drugs are moved in much smaller quantities than you'd need a warehouse for. Gun crates, however, are bulky and do tend to need places to store them unless one happens to know an army looking for said guns. Might be ancient artifacts, but the locale makes that less likely. Not enough security for one thing and those are easiest to move in and out of things like museums and libraries."

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"Shiny's just sort of a side effect. And yeah, it works on bullets, though I haven't gone jumping in front of machine guns yet. As for slowing you down...you'd be surprised."

He shifted a bit, and if Bombshell looked, she'd see that the metal itself actually flexed as he moved. He shot her a friendly smile as he spoke.

"It's not exactly standard-issue steel or anything. And I bet you could get some in glossy black."

His smile faded as he considered her words.

"Yeah, that makes sense. I've seen folks use old houses or sheds to store drugs, but never really a warehouse. Unless it was a full-blown 'hideout' first and foremost. This place isn't that. Plus, weapons crates would explain what you say downstairs. This area's not very active, and I don't patrol here often. I'm sure they know both those facts."

He gave a half-hearted smirk.

"Guess I got lucky tonight."

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"I like to not carry anything that I can't easily replace," the masked heroine responded with a faint smile, "You would be surprised the number of times I end up captured and all my toys taken. I find it's best to be versatile."

As if to elucidate the point, she held up the tool she'd been using to spring the rusty lock on the cabinet to show it was a twisted bobby pin and then with a flick of her fingers, sent it spinning into the darkness of the office absently until it plinked off of some rubbish in the distance. Her gaze followed it absently and her lips quirked in a smirk.

"Not yet, although, we might both yet get 'lucky'," she teased back easily and between her nimble fingers presented a thin white card. It, unlike the rest of room, was mostly clean and looked new, "Don't you just hate when people drop business cards. They're so small. So easy to lose under things. Tsk."

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Gabriel shrugged as she demonstrated the simple nature of her tools.

"Different strokes for different folks, I suppose. What I have works well for me. I mean, if every hero worked the same way, we'd be in trouble..."

When she made her remark about "getting lucky", he blushed, and his mask didn't fully cover it. He recovered admirably, though.

"While on the one hand I find myself somewhat flattered, I'll have to decline. I'm not the sort who...hm. How to say this. I don't do first-night-stands, and as I understand it, you're already...involved. I suppose a friendly cup of coffee one evening would be fine, though."

He focused on the card, expression pensive as he examined it.

"I...I know this guy. Well, know of him. He's always seemed like a stand-up guy. He's got a couple different stores he owns..."

The card falls to the floor, and Gabriel is suddenly pacing, anger clouding his face.

"And now I find out he's peddling guns to teenagers in my streets."

He turned to meet Bombshell's eyes, and there's wrath, righteous wrath, burning there.

"I think he needs some education on why that's a terrible idea."

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Bombshell snatched the card from the ground and it vanished into a pocket on her belt as she rolled to her feet, moving with limber athletic grace. She met his gaze unflinchingly and offered with pragmatism, "We don't know that's the case although, I will admit, I think it's the most likely of situations. I'm sure I don't have to caution you that information is always a valuable tool. By all means, let us go wrath of the gods on him if it's the case but if there's else afoot, it would be best we not be too hasty to jump to conclusions. For now, let us assume that is simply a lead and make our way there directly."

She smiled, sudden and wicked, "And if you're right, I will happily let you have first crack at dangling him over the edge of a rooftop or three."

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He closed his eyes and took several deep, calming breaths. The anger fled from his face, replaced only by resolve. He opened his eyes again and calmly met her gaze.

"You are correct. Anger does nothing right now. We still know precious few facts. Do you have any thoughts on how we can best proceed? I want to make sure I direct my aggression at the correct target."

He gave a slight smile.

"Though I prefer inducing terror by sending ultrasonic sound waves into their brain, inducing a state of primal fear. Puts less strain on the arms."

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