Umbrella Surveillance System
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Ares Buchanan Some people come to Ile de la Cite to enjoy the rich history and architecture. Unfortunately there are also people like Ares Buchanan who venture out because of boredom. Today he's in street clothes, his usual businesslike attire replaced with faded denim jeans, a white t-shirt, and a denim jacket. Despite his attire and manner of speaking Snoop Dogg is currently rattling the back glass of his Mustang Mach 1.
Bob Out amongst the tourists, wearing sunglasses, jeans, t-shirt and BDU field jacket, there is Bob. It's one of those places he decided he needed to see on his quest to visit all the touristy shit in Paris before it was destroyed or he was stationed elsewhere. From inside his old jacket, Bob pulls out a digital camera and starts taking a couple of snaps of the place, even turning it around to get one of himself standing in front of something historical. Of course, the fact that he's leaving his sunglasses on and sticking to the shade, not to mention occasionally rubbing at his face does not bode entirely well.
Ares Buchanan "Now normally I'd go over an' say somethin'. But it looks like he's onta somethin'." Ares says, leaning against his car. It was a coincidence that he noticed Bob, likely he would have looked over the other man if he wasn't out people watching. Regardless he doesn't move to draw any extra attention to himself, rather he tugs a cigar from the inside of his jacket and sticks it between his teeth.
Bob Yeah, the tourist stuff keeps Bob occupied a little while longer. It doesn't even look like he's having fun, really, but he's out doing his thing nevertheless. It's pretty obvious that he's not really got a particular goal in mind when he puts the camera away and actually takes a moment to look around. That's when he spots the guy from work smoking a cigar. There's an almost disappointed look on Bob's face, but when he realized that Ares isn't going to be interrupting his day he seems to recover quickly and gives the other dude a friendly nod before heading that way.
Ares Buchanan Ares raises a hand in a lazy sort of wave. "Howdy howdy." He takes a drag from his cigar before exhaling a cloud of smoke. "How's it goin'?" Apparently he isn't out on any sort of mission, rather just wandering around Paris annoying the locals.
Bob "Yo," Bob replies to Ares, flashing a smile for a second before it turns into a wince. The guy is obviously hurting, "I'm on day two of a hangover that won't go away. My brain is on fire and I'm light sensitive and nauseous." But there's a shrug, "I've been worse." He sidles up closer, within easy conversation range but not trying to enter Ares' bubble, "How about you?"
Ares Buchanan "I ain't hungover, so I reckon I'm doin' pretty good." Ares says with a slight grin. "Tired, but I couldn't bring myself ta stay in bed. Besides, I doubt we'll be stationed here too much longer. May as well enjoy the sights while I can."
Bob The crack about the hangover gets Bob to smile again, this time it turning into more of a pained looking squint. "I think you're right. Paris's monster issues are mostly settled and the locals despise us, if not the whole world." When he sighs it comes out slowly, dragging on for a little longer than it should. Probably the hangover. "I'm ready for a change of pace, anyway."
Ares Buchanan The song changes over, Vato turning into P.I.M.P. "Yeah. Too bad Paris wasn't the end of our problems." Ares says, rubbing at his jaw. He leans into the driver's side window and collects an odd spear looking device and wanders around to the trunk, popping it and depositing the electric spear. "Still, beats workin' at the gas station."
Bob "It won't end any time soon. Especially with P.I.T.E. still out there," Bob says as he watches Ares handle his strange weapon. There's a less pained squint this time as he studies the thing, "Yeah. I don't think I'd want to do anything else, though. I love being a medic and shooting monsters leaves me with a satisfied feeling." He pauses and frowns, "Even if they do rip my coworkers apart. Sometimes I hate this job, too."
Ares Buchanan "Yeah, seems like some of tha recruits we pick up are more experienced on paper. Lotta talk about killin' monsters. I was workin' at the Waffle House in Raccoon when the shit went down. Only injury I got before I evacuated was ah broken arm, fell out ah damn window. Stadler is actually the one who set it." Ares closes the trunk and moves back around. "Figure we might wanna start puttin' 'em through their paces. Not gonna last long if we keep sendin' people out to die."
Bob "Yeah, they bring in a lot of young people who haven't fired a weapon in anger in their lives and..." Bob lets out a little growl and shakes his head, which is clearly a painful action for him to have taken. "I'd like a lot more training exercises than we get, too. But if our budget does take a hit I don't see us getting the chance to train the way we should." Another head shake, though this one is much subtler than the previous, "It's a bitch."
Ares Buchanan "Well, I'm open to teach 'em how to brawl." Ares suggests with a slight shrug. He removes the cigar from between his teeth and flicks the ashes from the tip. "About average with ah gun though. Better with ah knife or my fists."
Bob "I can use some unarmed combat instruction, myself," Bob replies as he looks around for a second, just making sure things are all where they belong. He looks back towards Ares, "It's been a long time since I practiced fist fighting." He pauses and opens his eyes wide for a minute, "Though I did fight off a group of guys that jumped me a couple of weeks ago. That was more me being able to avoid a hit than hitting them a lot, if I'm honest."
Ares Buchanan "I'm not as good as I used to be. Could still hold my own, but four guys is probably my limit." Ares says that with a sort of grin, taking another drag from his cigar. "May try ta talk some people into sparrin' back on tha boat."
Bob "That's a good idea. We can do glass houses and dry fire practice, too, work on our team coordination and basic marksmanship," Bob agrees, adding a suggestion onto the end of it. There's a faint couple of nods, the dude avoiding moving his head very much to hopefully prevent more pain, "We'll need to put this shit up on the training schedule, maybe not impromptu sparring, but other training events."
Ares Buchanan "Yeah, be ah good idea." Ares agrees. "I could definitely work on my shootin'. Which would hurt my pride as ah southerner, if I wasn't ah felon up until they threw out my record. Perks of ah government job. That whole no guns and no votin' thing was a pain in the ass."
Bob "Let me know when you want to do some training and we'll work it out. Whenever I get over this hangover I'll be good," Bob says before going and rubbing at his eyes a little bit, starting to feel the effects of the light on him. "Makes sense you're out of practice shooting, then. What did they get you for?"
Ares Buchanan "I had ah nasty habit of breaking into homes and stealin' jewelry and televisions when I was ah kid. But Prison set me straight, taught me the only way ta go was to be an international criminal." Ares scratches at the back of his neck. "If I hadn't of gotten married I'd probably still be runnin' drugs an' guns. Shit, I was in Raccoon visitin' family when the outbreak happened because I sold off everything 'cept my car when Abigail died."
Bob "Never really wanted to get into crime, personally. I don't know if I'd be good at anything but shooting people and working as an unlicensed physician," Bob replies after a considering little 'hmm'. "I'll bet the money was good, though, moving dope and weapons. Going to prison just seems like something I wouldn't want to do. A bunch of friends from the block have done time, but still..."
Ares Buchanan "Yeah, the money was good. And aside from mercenary work it was the only job where I got ta drive fast and fight. We ever get in ah rough spot I'll sure as hell be able ta drive us out of it. Or get us killed tryin'. Either or." Ares flips his Razr out to check a message, typing out a reply with his right hand. "Hopefully it won't come down to that though."
Bob "Sounds like it was right up your alley, then," Bob says, glancing at Ares' phone and then back up at the man. "Glad you're a good driver. I'm a fucking grunt through and through, give me a rifle and let me dig a hole and I'll be all right." He presses his lips together and closes his eyes for a moment, then grimaces a little. "Good talking to you, man, but I think I gotta go puke." And he starts to walk off towards the nearest restroom, moving quickly.
Ares Buchanan "Yeah, take care." Ares raises a hand to offer a wave. With the fellow employee gone he takes a seat in the driver seat, outs the cigar, and produces a blunt. The smoke is stuck between his lips and he crank his car up and heads on out, off to do whatever it is he does.