ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟɪᴇsᴛ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ (weaponizing) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-01-15 18:26:00 |
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Someone with a mind like Rocket’s can only stay still and quiet for so long. It was probably why he had a successful career in the military, more specifically the tours he did in Afghanistan. He was always out there in front, watching for IEDs and disarming them before the infantry came through. There were a few close calls, but nothing that worried the boisterous man. If there was anything he knew his way around it was explosives and guns. They were his calling in life, and he was pretty sure that if hadn’t joined the military he’d be involved in some illegal arms dealing right about now. Not that he didn’t do that before he joined the military, and a little bit while he was in the military. He was on the straight and narrow, except that it often had a lot of detours along its path. But the itch to use his hands started to return. It was like his brain was always running at full speed. Ideas and specs and modifications would always run through his mind until he had to see it through. It was after his shift at the Sheriff’s department before he was able to make his way to a gun shop that was close to his apartment. The good thing about working for the government was that he had all the necessary permits he needed to buy a gun in California. ‘Course, if he wanted the really good shit he’d have to leave the state because fucking liberal jackasses were making it harder to get automatic weapons (even semi-automatic) of any kind. But he could fix that no problem. Modifying weapons was a specialty of his. He was perusing the handguns, eyes on the prize(s) when he accidentally bumped into someone. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said as he looked up. “Heeeey… well if it ain’t the best looking 67-year old in the state.” He smirked, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. A gun store was really more like a candy store for Gamora, though she was often not the best person to bump into - she’d tense and hiss like a cat if she was in the right mood, though after the jostling and when she saw who it was, those eyes - bottomless pits of darkness, the color of ink - were friendlier than they might have been if she’d been knocked into by a stranger. “It’s you,” she greeted, flipping a lock of hair from her face - in her usual armor, jeans, boots, a moto jacket, she fit in well enough at a place like this. Modifying weapons wasn’t really her thing, but what a skill to have - mostly, she simply enjoyed assessing firepower and the idea of adding to her collection. As a professional bodyguard, she always made sure her permits and licenses were up to par and current. It would be difficult to get high-paying jobs if they weren’t. “Rocket. To the stars.” Though given his personality, the nickname made all the more sense. She didn’t know him very well yet, but she liked him already. It was an interesting feel of camaraderie. “See anything good in here, that you want?” Rocket saw the change in her eyes - it was funny how a recognizing a person brought it about - and his own brightened. He would have hated to be on the receiving end of her wrath, that much he could tell, but thankfully he wasn’t. “It’s me,” he said with a chuckle as he gazed into the dark pools that were her eyes. He didn’t dare look down at her body but that didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed. The casual yet tough look worked for her, but what interested him most was the fact that he found her at the gun shop. “Rocket to the stars,” he repeated with a quick wink. “I was going to call you,” he added. “But tomorrow. You know, for the weekend.” They had agreed to have coffee together but meeting her here was all the better. At least this was something they had a common - a good start in his eyes. And when she asked her question - oh the smirk that drew upon his lips was unmistakable - and he nodded. “You mean other than you?” Yes, he was blunt and crass and everything in between, but Rocket had never been a man that beat around the bush. “I was looking at this FNS-9 over here.” He cocked his head to a case behind him, and walked over. “Shot it a few times at a range. Pretty solid. It’s ambidextrous which I like.” He caught the shop owner’s eye and called him over to open the case. The only way to see if Gamora liked it was to have her hold it, right? Other than you. What a smooth operator. Gamora rolled her eyes, but she didn’t seem too perturbed. Rocket, to the stars, was not a bad-looking specimen. “We’ll see how that goes,” she stated, brushing past him to get closer to the case and zero in on the beauty on display. And what a beautiful firearm it was, not a bad specimen here either - she needed sleek, she needed easy to handle and carry, and she needed the glory of that stainless steel construction. “Ambidextrous is best in my line work,” she continued, taking the FNS-9 to hold it in her hands, see how the grip felt. “I don’t shoot with only one hand anyway. You have good taste, Rocket. What do you think of the FNX series?” The shop owner seemed to get that they were seasoned pros when it came to the boomsticks, so he didn’t offer any ‘insightful’ commentary yet. Thank goodness. The fact that she didn’t outright call him out on the remark was a plus. Maybe he was making some leeway, but it was still too soon to tell. For the moment he was just enjoying the time with her in the shop. It wasn’t often he met a girl that was into the same things he was, and he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d feel about a trip out to a range in Arizona or Nevada. It was better there. Looser laws regarding semi-automatic and automatic weapons; he knew some folks that wouldn’t even mind if he blew up some of the countryside. She brushed past him, the slightest of touches, to the case to look over the FNS-9 herself. It was a good gun, and she held the piece like a pro. But when she asked about the FNX he grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “It molds to your hand better,” he said and nodded at the owner to pull out the series. “The 9 millimeter is good, but my personal favorite is the 45.” The shop owner reached for the .45, but Rocket shook his head. “Nah, man, the tactical,” he said as if the man should have read his mind. When the owner handed it to him, Rocket gave it a quick once over before he handed it to Gamora. “Now if that ain’t a beaut for a .45 then you can kick my ass.” He was that sure about the selection to offer up such a thing. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin, and when the shopkeep walked away to help another customer Rocket leaned in. “Not that I’d mind if you did kick my ass. Just sayin’.” "I don't blame you. I would always tend to pick a .45 over a 9 millimeter," Gamora replied, and it was pleasant to have something in common with a fellow savant of firearms. She took the tactical handgun, in a whole new series, and tested its weight and the grip of it. It felt like a dream - how she adored getting herself new toys, and this was something she might have to splurge on. Maybe write it off as a business expense? No. She'd only just started, that might be considered questionable. Now she was seriously contemplating this one - perhaps she'd see about giving it a spin, at the firing range out back. Wasn't much, but she was pretty sure this store had one. "You say that now," she teased, regarding how Rocket wouldn't mind getting his ass kicked by her. The man must enjoy pain a great deal. "It is a beaut though. I will consider it. And I believe you promised coffee." She'd inject herself with caffeine before making any gun-buying decisions. Get the sharp focus going on, good plan. Working with explosives gave Rocket a bit of a buffer when it came to pain. Sure, he had on heavy gear during training and missions, and bombs had exploded near him that sent him flying back through the air. Most men would have lain their panting and scared shitless, but not Rocket. He was the psycho that laughed about it while secretly wishing it would happen again. So in the grand scheme of things getting beat on by a pretty girl wouldn’t matter all that much. He could hold his own in a fight - hanging out on the streets and basic training saw to that. He took some advanced classes as well. Anything to stave off the boredom that often hit him. He watched how she held the gun, and saw that she liked it. He could have shown off, bought it outright from the shop (he got a discount there), and given it to her but Rocket had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate that. Not so soon anyway. Maybe somewhere down the line after he took her out on a proper date. “I did promise coffee.” How happy he was that she remembered that from their conversation. Luckily there was a cafe a couple of blocks from where they were. “Ready to head out then, Gamora?” He liked her name. The exotic ones always caught his interest. Why, yes, Rocco - also known as Rocket - she was ready to head out. Gamora hadn’t come in here expecting to run into this rather bombtastic individual, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. It had also been awhile since she’d sat down over something as simple as a cup of coffee and just talked to someone. She wasn’t great at that - case in point, the new friends she’d met lately were mainly encountered at bars. Then again, there was the woman she had lunch with on Friday. And there was Evie. So maybe she wasn’t as terrible at this as she thought. “Ready,” she nodded, wiggling her fingers at the gun shop owner - he very much looked the part - and she knew she’d be back to buy something, at some point. She just couldn’t resist. “Were you really going to call me, or did you just say that because you literally bumped into me today?” Ah, so the question finally came up. He couldn’t help but laugh, and as they approached the door to leave Rocket hurried to open it for her. Yeah he could be blunt and crass, but that didn’t mean he lacked manners. His ma taught him better than that. He wished she was still alive so he could talk to her. “Yes,” he finally started to say. “I really was going to call you.” As they walked down the block he shoved his hands into his jacket. “It’s just, you know, the rules of engagement. If I called you as soon as you gave me your number you’d think I was pathetic. And if I waited too long you’d think I wasn’t interested. But tomorrow… “ he raised a finger and wagged it to make his point. “Tomorrow would have been the midway point of all that.” Rocket glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, and smiled. “Tonight was just my lucky night. You’re even better in person.” Sure, he was laying it on thick. Typical lines that men were supposed to say to women they were interested in. But with Rocket he meant it. There were plenty of times when the gun-happy guy was sarcastic and loud, but this wasn’t one of them. In the cafe, it smelled really good - like everything was made in house, and Gamora thought she picked up the scent of fresh-baked carrot cake. But after an excursion looking at weapons that could kill a person with one perfectly-placed shot, she was in the mood to wind down with a hot cup of something soothing and maybe something sweet. “I actually do not know the rules of engagement, but thanks for the explanation,” she replied with dry amusement, heading up to the counter to place her order, her hands slipped into her black blazer with gold military buttons - typical Gamora armor, professional yet beneath she had a whole world of concealed weapons (and pain), ready to bring out. “I usually just fuck who I want to fuck and sort it out later.” Sometimes she kept in touch. Most of the time she didn’t. Relationships were tricky terrain to navigate especially with so many unwritten “rules” in place, such as the calling/texting one. Rocket considered himself a rule breaker, but in all truth relationships (other than friendly/platonic ones) were always a mucky area for him. And if he was honest even those were hard for him sometimes. Not everyone knew how to deal with someone as blunt as he was, or as crass. He was loud, too. It was the Jersey in him. Gamora’s comment brought forth a laugh and a single arched brow. He wouldn’t say that she seemed the type to do that sort of thing, but well, she seemed the type. She held herself with that fierce independence that didn’t do well with people that sought to be dominant. And that was Rocket. Overly dominant and loud whenever he was in a group of people. A remnant of his youth - being the smallest in a gang meant that he had to be the loudest in order to be followed. It helped, too, that Gabe was his muscle. “Well, I ain’t opposed to that either,” he said. “My place isn’t far from here. I cook a mean breakfast.” A not-so-subtle invitation to stay the night. Rocket ordered his drink - a straight latte with no frills - and cast a wink at his companion. Gamora assessed him for a moment, a hard look on her face and her eyes narrowed - she was not expecting to come to a gun shop today, looking for a new toy for yourself, and then get propositioned. Still, it was somewhat flattering - and she had no doubt that Rocco the smooth talker would be a good lay. But she was not won over so easily. "We'll see how I like your gun recommendation," she smirked. If he could pick out firearms she'd like, surely he'd be able to please her in bed. And she could be assured that she wouldn't kill him with her exuberance. Maybe. If she did, it would completely be an accident. Her coffee (and pastry, it was a dark chocolate croissant and don’t you judge her) received, she tilted her head toward a table in the corner where they wouldn't be bothered. "Now, I just need my caffeine fix." He liked the ones that were a challenge. The chase made it all the more exciting and that was something that Rocket could never get tired of. He lived for the adrenaline rush and he felt it every time he put his hands on an explosive device or a gun. “I know my guns,” he said confidently, and when she moved to sit at the corner table he didn’t follow immediately. His drink was a few minutes behind hers. Rocket’s eyes continued to glance over at Gamora, captures from across a room that were almost like playing footsie under a table. She was gorgeous, but also intriguing. God what he wouldn’t give to get to know her better. When he finally joined her in the corner (it was nice and quiet - perfect place for talking about firearms) he leaned forward. “How do you feel about ARs?” It might have seemed an odd question to anyone else, but not for two gun happy people like them. He sipped his coffee (damn it was hot!) and grinned. “I only ask because I know a guy.” Truthfully he knew a lot of guys in neighboring states (and on the East Coast) that could help him get weapons if he needed them. And he did for tinkering purposes. "I like the power of them," Gamora said, not even having to consider it - because of course she'd enjoy a tool for carrying out acts of violence on a widespread scale. Usually, stealth combat was her thing, but she could enjoy a good explosion every now and then. "I enjoy the potential for rapid and catastrophic carnage." She sounded somewhat blase as she said this, calmly sipping on her coffee - but she meant every word. However, she also didn't think that any random Tom, Dick, or Harry should have that sort of boomstick. Power like that shouldn't get into the wrong hands - it was a thought that deeply resonated with her for some reason. Reminding her of her father. But anyway, she shook those cobwebs from her brain. "What do you mean, you know a guy?" Her eyes glinted curiously. "I might also like where this is going." Who didn’t enjoy a good explosion? People like Ghandi or some pacifist, which he wasn’t. And it didn’t seem like Gamora was one either. Not with the way she handled that gun. Oh the thoughts that went through Rocket’s head about how she’d handle him. But he figuratively shook that from his mind, and cocked a brow her words. “I keep suggesting things you like.” Rocket was pleased at the direction of their conversation even if a coffee shop wasn’t the best place for it. He shrugged a bit before he leaned back from the table.”I mean I know a guy,” he said with a laugh. “I wasn’t always on the up-and-up,” he confessed. Not that Rocket was ashamed of his past, but he knew that some people weren’t always keen on talking about criminal activities. “Still got my old contacts.” He sipped his drink, and shifted in his seat. “Tell you what… let me take you out to Arizona some weekend. I’ll show you what I got.” In more ways than guns, he hoped. “Arizona?” And here came the genuine surprise - let it be known that Gamora was indeed a difficult person to catch off guard. She was always watching, always observing, her mind always working. Being a bodyguard, dabbling with security in general, meant that she couldn’t be caught off guard. But this was different. “You really want to take me there?” She considered it. Didn’t seem a bad idea to her - in fact, it actually sounded thrilling? Not like Arizona was horribly far. Part of moving to the OC had been so she could make friends, build a life, get out from under the thumb of Thanos. So she really should make the effort. “Sounds like fun,” she nodded (the f-word being one she hardly ever used. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Rocket.” That other f-word, ‘friendship,’ she hardly ever used either. But it was a time for firsts lately, and actually? She was pretty okay with that. |