meadowlarklogs | (no subject)

[Sniper doesn't know this bar in particular, but they can make some educated guesses about it in general, based on the atmosphere. It's a good location to chat about things that skirt the edge of legality, which is a point Sniper will add in Fitz favor for general competence. It grates on them to have to work like this, half-blind and extending trust based on limited evidence, vetting inch by inch. Their own judgement is reliable—this is hardly the first illegal thing they've done even discounting the assassinations—but there's too much room for things to get sloppy. And too much homework. If Fitz turns out to be as competent and professional as he comes across, it will be one less pain in their ass.

Even dressed drab, Sniper looks out of place as soon as they walk through the door, like a college freshman coming in on a dare. But it's with unperturbed confidence that they make their way deeper, looking for Fitz.]

[ For his part, Fitz waits at the end of the bar, apart from others so Sniper can spot him easily. They haven't met, but he provided a brief description: Scruffy, in all blacks, stood where he promised he would be (and Scottish, which tends to rule out most locals). If Sniper asks around, most groups (and staff) will be able to identify him. See, Fitz is a regular, associated with the gang that keeps the lights on here, leaving him well-known and, largely, well-liked.

As Sniper approaches, he makes an educated guess, lifting a hand. ]

Hey. [ and he extends it for a shake, unafraid of what empathy might show (calm upheld by control, a hint of curiosity). ] Fitz. [ not Leo or Leopold, just to be sure. ] Good to meet you properly.

[Sniper flashes him a bright smile and takes the hand without hesitation. On their own end a buoyant confidence backs a firm handshake and a palm both well-calloused and well-cared for despite it. They're pleased to be potentially moving forward on something concrete, something that isn't just biding time and information. If this works out the way they want it to—If Fitz is up to snuff—it will open up a lot of options, both for them and the group at large.]

You, too. Considering everything that's happened, we haven't had much face time. [They release Fitz's hand, taking a quick survey of the bar.] Let's find a table. [Adding, just to see what Fitz will say:]You picked an interesting spot to meet.

[ Fitz already has a pint for the road, lifted in mock cheers at the comment about his selection, as they find a table (a spot in the corner, slightly removed). If he's surprised by Sniper's youthful appearance, it doesn't show. ]

Cheap drinks. [ humming in appreciation. ] Good crowd.

[ Not meant in the typical way, mind you. The lot here is friendly but not bothersome, loud but not rowdy, sketchy but not quite dangerous. That's why he chose the Hi-Jacks over the other gangs: a group with connections and without damning links to the crime families or drug trade. You're not likely to find any corporate or government types around here, either. ]

And Valentina's a friend, so.

[ A flourish in the direction of the bar. With implants preventing anonymity, he'd rather be known and liked. ]

[Sniper orders a beer for solidarity, more interested in wrapping their hands around the cold glass than actually drinking. They settle in opposite, peering at Fitz.]

You're settling in well. [They cock their head, openly curious.] Do you like it here?

["Here"—this world they've been dumped in. Sniper knew thriving didn't necessarily equate to liking anything. They had settled in just as well at Fitz—a job, an apartment, people who recognized them in the park they went for runs in—But every day that passed filed away at their patience. If their theory about who got nabbed and why was right, Fitz probably left important work at home, but as flawed as this world was, it wasn't much more so than any other historical point on Earth. This world could have charm, for someone who didn't come from a near-utopia.]

Like seems a touch strong, for the overall picture.

[ measured, as Fitz tends to be in all things. He takes a sip. ]

[ tipping his head this way and that. ] I like certain people. [ friends among the displaced, members of the Hi-Jacks, and their Morningstar handlers, too. ] And I want to help this city. [ this universe, he means, but doesn't say, careful with his wording despite the buzz of the crowd. ]

But I love my partner. [ Jemma Simmons, frequently mentioned in his chats on the network. Fellow agent, biochemist, true north. Fitz is intentionally open about his life here and in his original universe. ] Not to mention my home, so.

[ So this is temporary. It has to be. Another drink, more generous than the last, and he tilts his glass in Sniper's direction, brows lifted. ]

What about yourself?

[Sniper smiles as Fitz goes on: wry, sympathetic.]

I miss my home. [Echoing Fitz's sentiment, but leaving out their own ambiguous feelings. This world was a dark mirror of their own, a reminder of everything their world had struggled so fiercely to overcome. And a reminder of what might happen to it if Sniper couldn't return in time to defend it.]

But I do think we have a good shot at helping things here. [They sound perfectly confident. Monsters were appearing out of nowhere; the boundaries of what was possible for this world was changing. Sniper knew first-hand how fragile that made a world already under strain. How malleable.

Fitz had his own designs, clearly, but it sounded like his priority was home. That was good to know.]

Which is a big part of why I wanted to meet with you. Right now, we have a few tricks but not a lot of resources to work with. I have a plan that might fix that. But I wanted to hear more about what you've got going on already before I get into that.

Edited 2019-02-25 01:54 (UTC)

[ When Sniper echoes his sentiments, Fitz nods. It's a relief to hear someone want for home while stepping back to view the board, simultaneously. It's a hard balance for any of them to strike, but it's necessary. A little flicker of his gaze, at the idea that he was wanted for this meeting, specifically. Despite being a bloody know-it-all, he often doubts his value to their case.

'Course he's always game for a plan. Sniper's struck him as thoughtful, from their network interactions. Certainly worth hearing out. ]

Bit difficult to pin down what I've got going on. [ dry, but not unfriendly. it's more of a private joke, 'cause his brain's on the fritz. ] Been helping a few people dig into their new jobs. [ by which he means: investigate their respective places of work. ] Trying to figure out how we can better disperse — and collaborate, if I see opportunities for it. [ get them well-positioned and actually, y'know, talking. hero types tend to run off on their own, after all. ] And sorting out hardware requests, as needed. [ gadgets, baby. ]

[ it's all things within his purview as the team nerd, brainstorming and theorising. he's happy to elaborate, but most of the threads he's eyeing (or asking others to tug at) are disparate, half-formed things. ]

So, what'd you have in mind?

[Fitz also seemed to have a good sense for how to get things done. It was a cheering observation.]

A couple of different things. One of them should hopefully be a small project. I was wondering if you could modify the appearance of some of that stuff we got recently.

[They lean forward, chin resting on their hands. One thumb gently taps the corner of their jaw: subtle, but hopefully Fitz will clue in that they mean the masks.]

If you can make more that's great too, but I want to be able to customize how it looks.

[They fully anticipated having need of the masks for the future, but they were Morningstar's tech. Morningstar's safety was reason enough to want to put distance between the two groups, but that wasn't the real reason Sniper was making this particular request: it wasn't like it would fool the UNA. No, Morningstar was a group whose name people were afraid to speak. They had baggage, heavier now after the raid. Not to mention their own agenda—an agenda Sniper respected, but it wasn't always compatible with their own goals.

Meanwhile, the displaced were having shrines erected to them. The public was being primed to see their group as something different, new.]

[ Hm, Fitz had returned his tech, intent of forging a genuine connection with Gaby and Morningstar, so tinkering with "borrowed" goods is, well, not ideal. 'Course he'll still do it, but it'll be limited to what others nicked.

He drags a hand over his jaw. ]

What are you hoping to achieve with a customisation job? [ asked neutrally. ] 'Cause my answer will change, depending. [ a rolling gesture. ] If it's that you want a stable, hm, [ he snaps his fingers, looking for the word. ] appearance — a specific look, I mean, that's slightly different tech. [ stable disguises, not shifting scramblers. ] Can try my hand at modifying it, of course. Add a visual layer on top of the scrambling mechanic. [ one corner of his mouth tugs to the side, amused. ] Pull a Guy Fawkes.

[ do other universes get that reference?? whatever, it's british culture, he has to make it. ]

But if it's that you want to avoid association with the designer, well. [ a pointed tip of his head. ] It might be best to disassemble one, and work toward building something entirely new. Same idea, different design. [ he leans forward, elbows on the table. ]

There's not much to rework on the surface, with the build aiming to scramble and obscure rather than take on a particular appearance. Customisation wouldn't remove the technological signature, which is the design in and itself, really. [ on something this high level and innovative, anyway. a new look will be like a cheap coat of paint: scratch the surface, and you'll find morningstar underneath. ] At least as I understand it.

[ As a defence tech who's had his work stolen before. ]

Edited 2019-02-27 22:10 (UTC)

Just looking different is the priority, for now. [They affirm, nodding along with the rest. As Fitz continues, their mouth quirks into a rueful smile.] I'd love a redesign, but association with the designer's moot at this point. I just want to add some color to it—so to speak.

[Like blue. It's not like the UNA was suddenly going to believe the blue glowing people weren't associated with Morningstar, even if Fitz managed to rework the tech. The masks themselves weren't public knowledge but another monster attack or something similar and they might be. They wanted something distinctive to catch the public eye, and something that would send a message to the powers in this world that they would be dealing with a different beast than Morningstar, regardless of association.

More practically: they weren't an engineer, but they suspected a re-design would take forever. At the rate things were happening they needed the ASAP solution.]

[ He hums in thought, already working through potential alterations. ]

If you drop one at my flat, I'll see what I can do.

[ in a space where he has tools and privacy, at least. ]

But I'd like to know why. [ a stillness to him, then, eyes alight with curiosity. ] What's the end goal of the fresh paint job?

[ he has an idea, building off his Guy Fawkes quip. even revolution needs distinct branding. ]

Edited 2019-02-27 22:56 (UTC)

We can talk about it more when I drop it off. [It did come down to branding, though not for a revolution—That was Morningstar's job. Still, there wasn't a good secretive way to talk about marketing for their group when they didn't even really have concrete goals or methods yet.

Their beer's gone neglected, so they make a point to take a drink before moving on.]

For this other stuff—How good are you with engines?

[ unsatisfying to be left hanging, but he'll accept it for the moment.

it helps that sniper's question startles a laugh out of him. ]

I deconstructed and rebuilt a car engine when I was 13. [ his mouth curves. ] And one of my PhD's is in engineering. [ dry, ] The other's in fussing, by the by.

[ Or maybe something something physics. Fitz lifts his beer, a sort of faux cheers. ]

Go on, then.

[Sniper smiles, not just because this suits their purposes. 'Voker' was one one of the highest compliments you could give someone in their world. Short for vocateur, it meant someone passionately devoted to their work. Sniper considered themself a voker, in their own field, and it sounded like Fitz was one as well.]

You'll like this, then. I'm not an engineer, [This said with note of warning. What knowledge they have is through exposure.] but my bash' has been working in transit systems forever. [Their bash' had in fact invented their world's current transit system two centuries ago, but that was a lot to get into. 'Bash' will go untranslated by the implant. Fitz can figure it out or ask; Sniper's doesn't feel like equivocating on one of the most important concepts of their world—a bash' was not the same thing as a 'family', especially not that sad isolated units they had in this world.

At this point Fitz will receive a file with some very basic specs—a couple of designs, materials. They're not about to drop the whole proprietary engine design on Fitz. It's clear that these designs are components of a highly sophisticated engine. The vehicle the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash' had designed, the mukta, was a flying car that could get anywhere in the world in three hours on clean-burning energy. It had revolutionized the world.

Right now, Sniper needed it to make some fast cash.

They give Fitz a minute to take a look, and then continue:]

I want to patent these, and then find a buyer. I'll need you to knock these down to working about 50% as good. Maybe low as 25%; I'll leave that up to your judgement when you figure out how to get it compatible with what's out there now.

Edited 2019-02-28 22:28 (UTC)

[ He does like the idea of playing with top tier designs, even if downgrading them hurts his pride as an engineer. Understandable, however, to keep the technologies of their world under wraps, beyond the reach of this capitalist hellscape. ]

I'm interested. [ his eyes flicker, shifting as he opens the plans and extracts 3-D models for immediate perusal on the implant interface. even without knowing the lingo, he gets the gist of the idea. a "bash" must be a familiar group (a team, maybe, which means family after his time at SHIELD). ]

But if I help, [ slowly. ] I'm working with you, not for you, [ it's mild, but there's a firmness to his steady gaze and even tone. fitz doesn't have an established relationship with sniper, and while their network encounters have been pleasant, he knows how easily his brain can be used for unjust ends (how it has been, time and again, by friends, mentors — even a lover). ] so I'll ask again: Why?

[This, Sniper can be perfectly transparent about.]

Just plain money. We're doing okay scrapping by right now, but we're going to need a lot of it at some point, and I want it on hand when we do.

[The things they might need money for are too numerous to list, so Sniper doesn't bother. But there was another reason—for Sniper, one thing that was clear about their kidnappers is they had a lot of money. Money to hold a few dozen adults in a secure facility, drugged, for several months, nevermind the dimension-hopping stuff.]

Edited 2019-03-06 21:33 (UTC)

We. [ another lift of his brows. ] Are you ringfencing these funds?

[ for displaced business only, is that it? the revolution needs funding, certainly, and he's happy to help earn it, but he wants the terms and checks clear from the start. ]

[They quirk a brow, too, but it's amused.]

I'm not going to be sharing out the account numbers. I can think of a few people off the top of my head I wouldn't trust to spend responsibly. And no offense, but I don't have confidence in anyone here but me to know how to manage that much money.

[Any money they got out of this would be perfectly legal, and since this was a long game it was going to have to look like it got spent legally, too. What Fitz had in front of him now was just step one, seed money for the bigger projects.]

None taken.

[ their lot's rather irresponsible on the whole, but he won't aid a venture without a second pair of eyes on the side, preferably his own. ]

But if you want my help, then I'll be having those numbers. [ tipping his head up. ] Just don't have the confidence in anyone here but me, as you say.

As long as you promise not to share them around without my authorization, sure.

[They appreciate due diligence. ]

[ And Fitz can respect a tough bargain. This partnership could work. ]

Then we have a deal. [ downing a sizable amount of his pint. ] I'll get you some schematics to consider within the fortnight. [ a beat. ] Everything stays in your name — can't have mine associated with competitive work.

[ as a Loyal Pulsar Employee™ ]

Great. [Everything was definitely going to be in their name anyway, for that reason among others, but they're glad it's not a detail they have to go over.] I work days right now. [Evenings, when the heat wasn't making New Amsterdam operate on reverse hours. Whatever was currently opposite of the corporate crowd, since that's who their industry catered to.] But I could swing by before or after my shift with the rest of what I need.

[ he finishes off his drink, satisfied with knowing the numbers and having access to the finances, for that particular venture.

as for the rest — ]

I'll see you then. [ standing, he offers a two-fingered wave, not quite a salute. ] Door'll open for your ID, if you can make it before your shift.

Edited 2019-03-13 21:31 (UTC)

[Sniper flicks a wave in return, lingering after Fitz leaves to finish their drink.

And that next evening, Sniper does swing by before their shift. They'll text Fitz to let him know they're on their way, entering with a cheery:]

Hello!

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timeskip??

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