Pete Wisdom (agent_wisdom) wrote in thedepartment, @ 2010-02-01 23:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | host, wisdom |
Pete goes on a surprise date hurrah!
New target: one Mr. Peter Paul "Winston" Wisdom. Black Air Agent. Formerly, The Factory. He'd fallen off the radar for quite a while there, but then he showed up, investigating the Academy.
If there was one sure way to get her boss' attention, it was to show up at the Academy. He always found a way to keep an eye on the place. Somehow.
Wisdom didn't always (often) spend his time in distinguished places, and it was almost too easy for the Host to find a seat next to him after he'd had a few drinks. Like stealing candy from a drunk baby. The Host actually enjoyed a good scuffle, but for this occasion, she dressed up like some common bar hopper and grinned at the mutant next to her.
This was clearly The Life. His kind of place, a decent beer on tap for once (and a sort-of okay Scotch) and now? Now there was a new friend for him to meet! He grinned back at the girl. "Hello. Yer in need've a drink."
No, it wasn't a question, it was a statement of fact.
Friendlier than the Host expected. Good. She was certainly dressed for attention, her long green hair in a tight braid and a barely there dress on her body. "I do need a drink. Help a girl out?" She raised an eyebrow expectantly.
Easy job and a free drink? That wasn't so bad. And she had to admit, she really loved the dive bar sort of atmosphere. It was so unsanitary!
"I'm always willing to help out a girl in need," he replied, then looked round at the barman and gestured for him to bring over twice his usual order. Then he pinned the rest of his beer and turned to resume checking out his drinking buddy. Pete was many things, but subtle wasn't always one of them. He was off duty, after all.
"So, uh, haven't seen yer about here before. I'd have noticed, believe me."
The Host didn't mind being looked at, and she angled the way she sat to give him more of a show. Anything to get the job done. All she had to do was get him alone for a few seconds and then either knock him out or give him some disease so he'd pass out quickly. She took a healthy drink of whatever he had ordered for her and then nodded at his question.
"No, I travel a lot for work. Haven't been here before." She smirked. "You don't sound like you're from around here, either."
"Only here 'cause of the job, darlin'. Same as yerself, I suppose." He pinned the Scotch and appreciated the new, improved view, then started mentally running through old case files and information he'd gathered through the years, searching for anyone with green hair. Just in case this was something more than it seemed to be, after all. He was of the opinion that everything was something more than it seemed to be, and always reacted accordingly. He must have been doing something right, since he was still alive.
He figured he could scratch the Hulk off his list straight away.
Reacting accordingly in this instance was "Play along". He had a gun hidden on his person, he had his knives, fuck, he even had his stellar personality. He'd be okay.
The Host probably should have been concerned that she'd be recognized, but she wasn't. Most of the people who saw her long enough to expose what she was doing ended up dead. And it wasn't like she was worried about what he could do to her. She had her bacteria, her super strength, and her stellar personality.
And how right he was that he was there for the same reason that she was. It was quite ironic.
She concentrated on the accent for a moment, trying to place it. Not that she hadn't memorized his file with all the details of his life, or at least a few good, juicy details. "British, right? Love the accent." She had an accent, but it was one of those hard to place ones. She traveled too much to sound like she was from a definable place.
"English, yeah. I'm an Essex lad, me." That wasn't giving away too much, since there were plenty of people from Essex. "Near London," he added, in case she didn't know. Pete was full of useless information most of the time. He'd have been impressive on a pub quiz team. Still, that was neither here nor there. He took a long drink from his bottle of beer, then started checking his pockets for his fags and lighter. He stood up once he'd found what he was after and pulled his coat on. "I need a smoke and the barman's threatened to cut off my arms if I even look like lightin' up inside. Yer after one?"
He was such a gentleman.
"A free drink and a free smoke? This is shaping up to be a fantastic evening." And he was going to lead himself right into a trap. Totally brilliant, if she did say so herself. "I don't think I'll ever be able to appreciate all the smoking restrictions." Not to mention the drinking restrictions. There were bigger battles to fight, of course, but people these days were so constricted. She put on her coat, ready to follow him outside.
He nodded and led the way after taking a final mouthful of beer, reasoning that if he needed to fight, at least he'd be outside and nobody else could get injured. Look at him, being all noble and shit. He made his way out to the alleyway that he'd been told was the bar's smoking area, glancing all round as he went so that he knew the lay of the land. So what if he had 6 beers and as many Scotches? He'd been in worse situations, in worse states, and survived. He took a fag out of the pack as they reached the alley and ignored his lighter, preferring to light it with a knife, just in case he'd need one. Naturally, he was being careful to keep it hidden from his new friend.
The Host followed him quietly, leaning against the alley wall when they were alone. "Very scenic." Further comments were interrupted by a small coughing fit, and she pulled her coat around her more tightly. She didn't know if he'd recognize her, but as her eyes glowed yellow, it might be a hint. Not that he had a chance to really save himself now.
Green hair, eyes that glowed yellow... and coughing? It niggled at the back of his mind, so he blew a lungful of smoke in her general direction and stepped back. "Alright, darlin', wanna tell me yer name and who yer workin' with?" He kept the cigarette in his mouth so that both hands were free and started moving backwards towards a pile of wooden pallets he'd seen when he was lighting up.
"You'll find out soon enough." Coughing was something of a natural side effect of her powers, but she took a moment to steady her breathing before stepping towards Wisdom. "My children will make sure of that." But before she started monologue, she coughed again. The bacteria that she sent towards him were intended to be fast-acting, fever-inducing and muscle-debilitating.
Well, there was a threat... of sorts. He staggered as he stepped back again, and wondered what he'd tripped over, then made two handfuls of knives.
"What children?"
He looked all round the alley again, which set his head to spinning, before throwing half of his knives at the woman and missing completely. "Oh, bollocks..."
This was not going well for him. He turned and ran for the wooden pallets, thinking that he could break them up a bit and have sticks to maybe beat the bitch round the head with, but he ended up slamming into a nearby wall that hadn't been there a few seconds ago. What the fuck?
He managed not to slump to the ground, and tried firing the second handful of knives at ... at Host? Was that who she was? It was a shame he couldn't think with his head spinning like it was.
People were always so literal about the word children. The Host smiled and ran after him, ducking out of the way of hot knives. It was a nice parlor trick. She aimed a kick towards him, hoping to completely knock him out after the weakness her children--her bacteria--had caused.
"...th'fuck're yer doin'..." he managed as his legs finally gave way, her kick making everything stop working. The jolt of landing sent his head spinning and he slumped even further down, unable to pull his thoughts together enough to even try and lift his head up. If he'd been able, he'd have loosened his shirt collar and tie as well, because it was far too warm. Far too warm.
He gave it one last go, and tried to make a couple more knives, but all that happened was that his fingertips glowed for a few seconds and then died down. Oh, and his cigarette fell from his very lax mouth. He did his best to stay conscious, but his body was just overwhelmed with whatever it was Host had done. His eyes rolled back in his head and he lay where he was, panting very slightly from the heat. He was burning up, after all.
She smiled as she knelt down next to him, cupping his cheek in her hand. "The fever won't kill you, but you will be very sore for a while." And she didn't sound particularly upset about his fate one way or the other. "The best thing to do with this is just to sleep through the pain."
She pressed a pressure point on his neck to speed up that recommendation.