Who: Motoko and Pete What: Meeting to drink and talk about contacts n’ criminal elements. When: After this message and after Domino went boom. Where: some shady neutral zone dive bar in the OC that Pete knows of Rating: Lowish (due to language) Status: Complete!
Motoko looked the bar over, a displeased expression on her face. This was where Wisdom wanted to meet her? She’d fit in at least, in low rise jeans and a tight tank top. She pulled her sunglasses off as she walked in, hooking it into the collar of her shirt as she looked around for someone who was smoking, which only narrowed it down a little bit. However, there was only one man in black who was smoking, looking like he belonged in the place. He was kind of cute.
Pete would dispute that he was cute. He was gruff, pissy, annoying, blunt, and a total asshat...those things he would admit to. But cute? Only his wife thought so. It was a sentiment that not very many people would have, after spending any prolonged length of time in his company.
He was puffing on a cigarette while sitting beside a prominently displayed No Smoking sign, his tie was loose and hanging at an odd angle, like it had been angrily pulled down before he tried to hang himself with it. His hair was a mess and he hadn't shaved in at least three days, because it made him look rough. And if he looked rough, then people left him the hell alone. Except for the wife, because she knew about his secret, smushy center, despite his decidedly crunchy exterior.
He looked up from his newspaper since he was doing yet another room check (tm), and making sure that no booms were going to happen, nothing was going to be set on fire, bullets weren't going to be flying, and that he knew where the windows and doors were. Never knew where one was going to need to make a hasty exit. He wasn't going to do that any time soon, since he locked on to the Japanese woman who was approaching, and gave her a nodding at, to show that he knew her and that she looked damn good. Because he might be happily married like serious whoa, but he's not dead, so he can at least acknowledge that much...okay?!
It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to appraising looks, of both sorts. Part of her got off on it but she’d never admit that to anyone, let alone a stranger. She gave Wisdom a polite smile as she slid onto the stool next to him, and ordered a drink. Tequila. She glanced over at him, and nodded her head. “Everything checked out?”
"If it hadn't, then I wouldn't be sitting here. Would I?" It was a cheeky response, but coming from Pete, it had more of a dry and wry flavor to it, than outright shitty sarcasm. He was nursing a huge pint of lager, and a side of scotch, no ice. The newspaper was folded and set aside. That had been done with a certain amount of neatness and care that he obviously didn't reserve for his own personal appearance. "Now my question is, why the bloody hell would they send you to an ex-Interpol agent?"
“I suppose you wouldn’t.” She took a sip of her drink, before answering. “I don’t know. My bosses wanted me to speak to you. I didn’t even know you weren’t a part of Interpol anymore. Your file still said active.” She took another sip. “Someone doesn’t want you entirely out of touch.”
"It would seem so." Pete wondered about that even more than he was willing to talk about, considering he had some sort of double running around as him for a while, so anything was possible. He lit another cigarette and flat out stated, "I'm not Interpol anymore. I'm only monitoring weird happenings for the time being, and this is weird happenings central. That said, I did have some contact with the asian smuggling rings, with drugs and whatnot. So if you'd like to pick my brains then by all means, go ahead."
He gave her a little toasting motion, before downing his scotch and contentedly puffing away on his cigarette.
Motoko became all business, leaning forward, voice steady and calm. “My last lead indicated there was some link between a group called Cerberus, and the Fire Nation. I’ve been working on the latter for over a year now. We’ve had some success, but we’re trying to kill the roots, because they keep springing up like weeds.”
"Like they're working together or against one another? Because if it's asian gangs we're talking about, that are involved, it's either one or the other. They're often in competition," Pete pointed out, knowing full well that getting rid of those roots was going to be nigh impossible, especially in a worldwide context.
Oh well. At least thinking about this got his mind off the fact that Neena had gone boom. He hoped she was harder to kill than that, though. Part of him didn't believe it or want to believe it. To complicate matters, he always stopped short of saying 'drinking mate' or 'friend'...since another part of him still thought of friends as something more of a liability. So where Spot was concerned - after epic amounts of drinking - it was complicated.
Naturally, the wife wasn't included, because she was a fairy and he knew full well that you don't fuck with the fae folk.
"What sort of link," he asked her, "because I know enough about the shipping routes they use for trafficking through the pacific rim an' the likes, if that's what you need to know."
“Working together, at a high level. Not enough to move on anyone just yet, but just enough evidence to perk our interest and bring our attention.” She debated how much to share with him, but her own preliminary investigations had already come up dry. “Right now I’m blind, our sources dried up not long before I landed.”
"So the leaders are organizing things together," he surmised, ordering another drink and lighting another cigarette. He was gunning them and only paused to sneer at a scoffer, like he dared them to try to fine him. He couldn't smoke indoors at home, so he was damn well going to sit there and smoke all he'd like, and consequences could be damned. "I'd imagine it's gone beyond simple drug running, human trafficking, and money laundering. That means, b'fore the beastie gets larger an' more destructive? The only way to stop the whole business is to cut off the heads and the necks holding them up. Then it's a matter of taking out a limb or two helping it scurry about on, and wait for an inevitable collapse."
That seemed like standard procedure, but he had the feeling as he eyed Motoko, that this was going to be anything but standard.
“I hope it’s that simple. Once I have enough evidence, I can pass it on to the people who can act.” Even if she wished she could act, herself. Maybe they’d let her watch. That was always fun. She really ought to get in contact with the local authorities - she was just procrastinating.
"There's a few hackers about, on the network. That might help matters, and I'll see if there's anything that I can gather," he offered, not sure how he could help, but knowing that somewhere, somehow, someone pointed their finger in his direction to help sort out this whole mess. That was if this all wasn't an outright and magnificent mistake by Interpol...which he highly doubted. "I'd hate to drag one of them into the whole mess since she's had a tragedy recently. But she's one of the do-gooders and she's bloody good at wot she does. I can arrange some contact if you'd like, although it's likely that you 'ave your own hackers already working on things."
“I’ll take any help I can get, Mr. Wisdom. I want this matter settled, and I was directed to you for a reason.” Her mind was on the same general track as his. This wasn’t an accident. She’d been sent to him for a reason, and perhaps that reason had to do with his contacts. “I’m not too proud for that.” Yet
"I'll send 'er a message and see if she's up to getting into trouble again." If he remember Kitty enough from his dreams, she might welcome the distraction. Or a chance to kick some faces in. "When yer trying to catch criminals, luv, then needs must."
She nodded her head. “Thank you. I think I can work with that. If you want in on the action, then, let me know.” She knew how much inaction could get to a person. Finishing her drink, Motoko slipped off the stool. “It was nice meeting you.”
The thought of any action was a double-edged sword with Pete, because he knew the good it could do. On the other hand, he knew the consequences and decisions that had to be made, even if it was for the worst or hurt himself in the process.
On the other hand, his tiny fairy wife might want an adventure, even if she was carrying their cauliflower...potato...turnip...whateverthehellvegetableitwas,now.
"I'll contact her, t'morrow. See if she's interested," he said, squinting past a haze of cigarette smoke that was encircling his head, making him look like a rumpled fallen angel in a black spook suit. "Then...I'll think on it, but look forward t'working with you in wotever capacity. Cheers."
He waved one hand in a half-hearted flap flap motion and turned back to his newspaper and alcohol.