Triple Check The Latte Girl

January 27, 2019:

Lena has a meeting with Alex Peabody.

La Bernadin, New York City

Characters

NPCs: Alex Peabody

Mentions: Slade, Leonard Snart

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

*

"Hello, Ginny. My name is Lena and I was given this number by a Mr. Wilson."

*

There's a pauce then the woman speaks again, "So you come with a reference? Excellent, our prefered customer clientel is always well treated. May I ask if this is in regard to our mass produced products or perhaps something more tailored by our proprietary engineers?"

*

"Ah, tailored. I'll need something a bit custom for myself, I believe." She answers, looking out the window of some new hide-away that was well removed from Chinatown.

*

"Very well. Given the quality of your reference I will suggest a personal visit from one of our R&D VP's. Do you have a prefered appointment time or location?

*

"Soon. As long as the location is upfront, I'm not picky."

*

Another pause, followed by, "As you wish. I see you are in New York, how does this evening at La Bernadin sound? Say, eight pm?"

*

"Thank you." Hanging up, she tosses the phone down and sighs. A shake later, she goes about studying the location prior to her arrival.

*

La Bernardin is one of the most exclusive eateries in all of the city. It's a place of refinement, of exceptionally high taste, of $100 appetizers and serving sizes dolled out by the gram instead of the ounce or pound. Big white plates, tiny bits of colorful food that may be more art then meal, all surrounded by a luxurious upscale leather stuffed chaired decore that's modern enough to be 'edgey' but comfy enough for old rich people to not feel uncomfortable.

In short, it's the last place in the world a criminal who's /not/ pulling down seven to eight figures a year would be caught dead. Also, it's the sort of place that has it's own security, and is likely full of powerful people. The only consolation is that the chef is apparently amazing. Maybe the tab will go to the consultant?

*

There were few things in life that Lena didn't care for, white-collars were one of those things. But, at the end of the day, this was business, one she needed to both work out and conclude within a timely manner. Her hair lightly styled, curling and sweeping down in place as the other hunks are up and tossed. Her gown is sleek, a lightly shimmering azure blue, the rest of her exposed flesh decorated with silver and sapphires. Look the part, play the role.

With a clutch back in hand, and covered with a short back jacket of arctic fur, she walks up toward the security check point and offers her name, along with the news that she has an appointment, meeting someone, around 8 pm.

*

The matre d' merely smiles and nods and excuses himself from the lounge, yes this place has it's own lounge, and makes a motion for her to follow him. They wind through a few tables after passing through the large open archway, and end up at table near the back of the resturant, just beneath a massive mural of a turbulent sea. Sitting at said table is an attractive black man with close cropped hair and a small chin shaped goatee, neatly trimmed. He's wearing a black suit with a blue shirt and tie to match that compliments him by dint of being tailored to fit him perfectly.

He's athleticly framed, his smile as he stands is startelingly white, and his face shows a few small pink marks, scars, that seem newly healed as they've not yet had time to lose that shiney soft coloring. He steps around the table and draws out a chair for her, the step comes with a bit of a limp and his movements are stiff as if he were partially crippled or nursing an injury, "Ms. Snart, a pleasure." he says, tucking the chair beneath her before retaking his own seat.

*

Lena follows after, her fingers digging down and reaching at a bunch of fabric to keep it up and away from her steps so not to trip. At length, she comes into view of her companion for the evening. She stares, her chest shuddering down as a flush of heat stains her pale face. Blinking, she clears her throat and remembers herself. "T-thank you." She offers toward her chair, taking time to remove her coat before sitting down. Pressed up and against the table, she lingers her frozen on the man across from her. "Pleasure's all mine. I'm sorry, I don't have your name…"

*

Deathstroke offers the same charming smile, "Alex," he says simply, "but my friends call me Peabody. If we're /very/ lucky we'll be friends by the end of the evening." he pulls out a napkin and drapes it over a thigh as a server walks up and begins pouring a dark red wine into prepared glasses for each of them while another server plucks up Lena's coat right out of her hands as she goes to set it down and replaces it with a small check ticket before whisking it away. The dance of service is so well rehearsed it's almost hypnotic.

"Our mutual aquaintence says you're the daughter of another man I've done business with. Impressive pedigree, and while you don't know it, coming from me that's saying something. Good on you. Family is important." he sips the wine, ponders, then nods, and both glasses are filled the rest of the way before the server disappears. Alex reaches out and sets what looks like a small black box, about the size of a candy bar down on the table and presses a button on it, a faint click noise, then the ambient noise from around them takes on a muffled sort of quality, "We can speak openly now, no listening device made can get through that." he actually winks, proud of his little toy.

*

"Alex." She repeats, her expression softening even as a smile settles on her dark lips. The pull of her coat causes her to glance off, watching it all happen and go about with a blink left in the aftermath. Watching after the wine, she considers it, watching Alex drink first before reaching out and sampling the vintage herself.

Swallowing smoothly, she knew her manners enough to not gulp it all down. Even her posture was straight. She chuckles, "It's funny…I spend years wondering what he's like. Asking around for people who knew him and finding no one. I start shifting my stance on some things, some thoughts and then…well, Mr. Wilson arrives. Professor Zoom. You. People who know something I don't. It's like Christmas."

Then the lil box is on display. She shift occurs and her eyes widen, doe like with wonder. "Fantastic…" She murmurs, setting her glass down and leaning closer to the tiny thing. "It's beautiful. Is the distortion created by another sound frequency or something else?"

*

Peabody smiles slightly at her interest, "It's a white noise generator on a sphereical amplitude arc, creates a little bubble around us that takes all the noise coming in and pumps it back out into the room, cuts us off from any prying ears." he sips his wine, "Made it when I was eleven, keep my dad out of my room."

*

"It's beautiful." She remarks, a genuine smile on her features. Reaching out, she caresses the box with a feather light touch before pulling back and reclaiming her drink. "I-ah…sorry to say I wasn't doing anything that amazing when I was eleven." She sips.

*

Peabody shrugs, "Honestly? It was mostly so I could play video games in peace." he rolls his eyes, "My house was a nut job factory growing up." he leans back a bit in his chair, "So how did Leonard end up with a baby girl and not tell anyone? I mean, sure, he wouldn't have told me or anything, we weren't close, but no one? Not even the Rogues? Heaty? I'd have at least thought he'd have told Heaty."

*

"Rory? I never met him. To be honest, maybe dad doesn't know about me, either. Mom told me about him later and I'm not really sure when he just left, either. Or why. We didn't talk about that." Going a bit silent, she drinks from her glass and thins her lips, once full again, their hue returns to normal, any dye spreading out. "I guess I think that if I pick up the name, the MO, do him proud, maybe he'll take notice."

*

Peabody nods as she says the name, "Oh no." he says, a look of mock seriousness crossing his face, "Daddy issues, in a woman of quesionable moral fiber and exceptional tech weapons. Careful there, you're dangerously close to being my type." he sits forward a little, "I wouldn't worry about it much. If we removed everyone with parental issues from our lien of work, no one would be left. Maybe the Joker, but that guys nuts."

*

Lena smiles softly, her expression half-hidden behind the brim of her glass. "Only close?" She questions smoothly, biting against her lower lip as her cheeks flush a more vibrant red. Another drink, she sets the glass down and sits back, her legs cross in a fluid motion. "I just want to know the man. I'm apparently like him more than I thought and all without really trying. Suppose I didn't fall from the tree, more so I'm clinging to the branch." Pause, "What about you? Why do you do this?"

*

Peabody's smirks a bit at that and his own glass pauses half way to his lips, "I could make a bunch of glib lines I suppose. Family business, I made a promise, cause it's the only thing I'm good at… but the truth of the matter is? I chose it. All the other's are true too of course, but I chose this, conciously." he shrugs, "And lets be fair, I'm not so much 'in the life' as sort of 'life adjacent'."

*

"Doesn't matter. You're my neighbor and probably still swing by for the holidays and a good summer barbeque." She smirks before nodding, keeping her frosty gaze his way. "I agree, though. Choice is the ultimate in, well, our lives." Chuckling, she rests her foot back down on the ground, reclaiming her glass to nurse from. "Do we move on to business now, or do I continue to get to know you, pretend this is a date, and blush stupidly infront of a stranger?"

*

Peabody sets his glass back down and motions to her menu, "You're the client, how the conversation goes is entirely up to you. I would recomend the monkfish, it's pan roasted with squid ink fideos in a chorizo emulsion. Sounds weird, but it will change your life."

*

"Really? I wish you were the first man to ever tell me that." She laments, reaching for her menu and looking it over. She reads the section that holds his recommendation, and after another glance, she nods and closes it up. "What about dessert?"

*

Peabody eyes her, "Oh? Lots of men woe you with monkfish entrees?" he quips lightly, "And here I thought I was being original." he sets his menu aside with the air of someone who knows what he likes already, "They make something they call the s'more here, but it's not what you think. Chocolate fondant over a smoked chocolate square over Perucian chocolate ice cream." he quirks a brow, "Unless you…" pregnant pause, "don't like chocolate?" the tone is ever so slightly suggestive.

*

Lena giggles and shakes her head, for all her chill the sound is warm. "No, I meant the whole 'sounds weird, but…'. Life changing, y'know?" Shrugging, she smirks and rests her eyes down briefly. Back upward, settling on his face, she sets her menu down as well. "Are you kidding? I adore chocolate."

*

Peabody beams, "Of course you do." now he's not even trying to hide the sly, "So." he says, motioning for the server to come over, "Business, or not business?"

*

"Why not both?" She waits for the server to arrive to their table. In turn, she requests her meal and dessert, both under Alex's suggestions. However, she requests dessert before dinner. Once alone again, she reaches for her glass and drinks gently. "I guess it's rude to waist your time, and it's no secret why we're here. Tell me, what can you do for me?" A pause, "And what do you need from me?"

*

Peabody smirks a bit at her questions and leans back in his chair, making his own order, slightly different from her own, and also dessert first, appologizing to server for the inconvienence before turning back to Lena, "Loaded question, sure you wanna just hand me a straight line like that?" he asks curiously. "I can do almost anything for you, and I need copious, almost ludicrous amounts of money from you."

*

"Well, pull the trigger." She advises, resting back now and finding a solid amount of comfort. It wasn't long, however, until her wine was gone, and the empty glass is set on the table. "I can offer a pretty solid amount. From there, I can get you more." She promises. "I'm looking for something protective, but light. I don't want to reduce my speed or flexibility out there. But since I've moved to work around these parts, more people seem to be bullet happy than what I was previously use to. One piece isn't going to cut it anymore."

*

Peabody hrms a bit and eyes her for a long moment, "You got Leonard's gun right? Why not do what he did?" he seems curious.

*

"No, I have my gun." She corrects easily.

*

"Also, I'm not sure what you mean by 'what he did'."

*

Peabody waves a dismissive hand, "It works on the same fundamental principles, correct?"

*

"I-no?" She blinks, her head canting to the side. "I don't know what his tech was I'm afraid."

*

Peabody nods his head at that, "Yeah, was afraid of that." he leans forward again and presses the little white noise device again, and there's a slight shimmer in the air around the table, a flicker, then it's normal again. He holds his hand out, "Gimme. Lemme see what you're working with here."

*

Lena frowns now, that ease starting to shift before his eyes. She watches the box, that shimmer, her brows dipping and digging down. Nibbling at her lower lip, she considers the man across from her. He knew something she didn't, and that alone was frustrating. Digging into her clutch, she doesn't pull out a gun (its size would not allow it after all). She does, however, offering him a black case, triangular in shape and cool to the touch. "I didn't bring my gun with me for once. Dress didn't allow it." She explains.

*

Peabody eyes her and sighs, "Well then… that's a thing you're going to have to get over, or find a work around on. Never go anywhere without your weapon, especially if it's your calling card. That shit will get you dead." he takes the triangle and spins it atop the table for a moment, eyeing it before pulling out his phone and holding it over the device. There's a soft beep and he flips his wrist, sending up a holographic 3D display of the core's interior. He sets the phone down on the table and eyes the diagram before starting to pull at the air, which causes the bits of the diagram to explode outward, as if he were digitally disassembling the core's secrets. "I see what you did there. Nice. This is /definately/ not Snart's tech, looks more like Fries' actually, which is impressive." he shoots her a look, "I didn't see anything on cryogenics studies in your background, but this is pretty advanced. Mr. Freeze would /love/ to meet you… I mean, as much as he loves to do anything, which is really not at all. Dude is seriously dour." he continues to pull and twist the floating glowing lines, nodding, then snaps his fingers and the entire thing vanishes before he hands the core back to her, more or less unmolested.

Alex takes a breath, "Okay, so… I see your problem then." he reaches up to scritch the side of his neck, "See, Leonard didn't wear armor because he didn't need it, not really. I mean, honestly it would have helped him a lot, but he's just not the sort. Freeze on the other hand wears a whole fucking suit of the shit, strength enhancements, all sorts of gizmos, just a beast of a suit. Because he has to." he shoots her a look, "You're in the middle ground here, which means there is a /lot/ of stuff I can do for you, more then I even suspected."

*

Lena wanted to marvel at everything being said to her, shown to her. She eyes the display and reclaims her core, slipping it back into her clutch and closing it away, resting the bag on her lap. "Thank you," she murmurs at length, her eyes settling on his features once more. "I'm listening." She relents.

*

Peabody leans on his elbows, "So Snart's tech was based off of the concept of absolute zero, it wasn't cryotech persay, just had a similar effect, but the devil is in the details. Freeze's tech unsurprisingly freezes stuff. Snart's stopped atomic movement, which tends to manifest as freezing things, but that's just a trick of physics. You have cryo tech there, which again, is more Freeze's thing. I can't help you build a Snart gun of your own, that man is seriously pissy about anyone getting hands on his proprietary tech, but I know the basics of it, where he got the idea, the original gun, see if maybe I can't mock you up something. Might be more like his first version, but I enjoy a challenge so that's an option. I can also get you armor, depending on what you can afford that could be excellent top shelf 'costume' style shit, or some really high end military plated kevlar weave in a vest kinda thing."

*

Lena stares at nothing for a moment. She's attentive, at least, even if her eyes are down cast for the time being. She nods, swallows, shifts in place and otherwise gives off the indication that she was present. "I'd like that." She says at length, offering him a soft smile before correcting her posture and clearing her throat. Her arm reaches out to claim her glass of water.

*

Deathstroke nods his head at her, "And so we're back to the original question. Since you're using similar but not the same tech as your pops, then you can't defend yourself in his manner. So," grin, "you still require my services." he holds his hands out wide as if suggesting that she should make some suggestions.

*

"I told you what I wanted." She relents. "I need protection out there that I don't have. If square one is the gun, we'll go from square one and add from there." Thinning her lips after another sample of water, she looks around with a hint of frustration that the dessert had yet to find its way to their table. "Square one," she repeats. "Just tell me what you need."

*

Peabody ticks off on his fingers, "I'm going to need your requirements, your budget, a full body scan, potentially a synapsis scan of your brain, maybe a DNA sample depending on the interface you choose, voice recognition recording samples, biometric readings-" he waves a hand, "It's a long list. You see, the problem is that you've just rolled into the Lego store and looked the clerk in the face and said 'I wanna build something'. Imma need something to work with because the options are staggering. Lets start with budget, that will decide what I can offer, and we'll whittle it down from there."

*

Cold eyes find the man's face and for a time, she's silent. She hears the list, filing it away for another day. She's considerate at least, offering a nod now and then at the ticking down. His excitement of it all at least causes her lips to twitch in a smile. With a sigh, she speaks. "Two million. To start. We need more, I'll get more." A pause, "I want the gun first. Right now, that's all that matters."

*

Peabody's lips twitch and he sighs, "Of course it is, because being like one super villain isn't enough, you wanna be like /two/ in one." he melodramatically rolls his eyes, "Two mil should get us well on our way to getting your gun. I'll go look up the plans for the old cyclotron that Leo based his original weapon on and then I'll call you, see what we can come up with. I'm a techno genius, but cryo crap seems to be in your blood, no offense, so your insight may prove invaluable."

*

"No." She corrects. "If cryo isn't what he did, I'm not doing it that way." She explains bluntly. "I want the best version of what he used. The best version we can make. I need to understand it so I can make repairs as needed. You said his circumstances were different because of his weapon. Well, get me the weapon first, then my circumstances will shift, too."

*

Peabody quirks a brow and eyes her, "So." he says, "Daddy issues indeed. Gotcha. I'll get the cyclotron and we'll whip up a housing for it like Leo did. It won't be better then his, he had a couple of decades to perfect his tech, work on it, fiddle with it, I'm starting from gen 1. Okay. Maybe gen 4. I /am/ awesome after all. But 2 mil will only get you one, maybe two prototypes, three if we're lucky." he pauses, "Or, it can get you a solid retirement and a very nice house in a town in Tennessee where almost no one will try to kill you ever. Just saying. Retirement with a fat wad is always an option." he smirks as if already knowing the answer.

*

"It's only for the gun. I have other ideas for my core and its tech." She murmurs, her eyes falling a bit as he comments about her issues once more. "Make the cut five mil for now and we'll go from there. That sound good enough for you?" She asks, the flirtatious side of her having slipped away to become something more akin to to-the-point business.

*

Peabody nods his head, "It'll do." he says evenly, "I'll have the specs sent to my lab before I leave here tonight and begin mocking up a few models before sunrise. Should have something for you by the end of the week." he offers the same even smile as always, his charm offensive not giving way to a business like attitude as hers has.

*

Lena sits back, forcing herself to settle whatever was clawing at her insides and making her more frigid. Swallowing, she nods, downing more of her water before setting her glass back onto the table. Then, she finally smiles again, taking on a lighter demeanor, much like when they first met. "So…you're going to be busy all night then?"

*

Peabody seems to ponder that, "In theory, sure. But to be fair, it'll take hours to get the plans from storage, we don't keep that sort of thing just laying around on a harddrive waiting to be hacked. Security is paramount after all. I have some time yet."

*

"I'm sorry." She begins. "For my shift, there. I felt like I had failed something that I had originally thought I did well at. I'm not sure if you know what it feels like, but you might." She tries to reason, give some excuse to her shift and how it dug against her chest and weighted in her belly. "Guess I'm a bit embarrassed. Was hoping that after all this meet up, I'd be a touch closer to your type after all."

*

Peabody snorts at that, "My dad was a legend in military, legitimate full on legend. My uncle is like… a walking god or devil, opinions vasilate. Me? I'm just an Army Ranger polymath tech genius turned arms creating millionaire with his own small empire of companies. Trust me. I get it." he snorts at her, "Please. You're doing just fine. My last crush turned out to be a plant from the Russian mob and got my penthouse destroyed by a ten foot tall super demon and a small army of private military contractors. You promise not to melt my reinforced bunker homes and you're already a step up."

*

"I promise not to melt anything. I hate fire." She smiles, returning to what she was before; earnest and playful. Blinking, she cants her head though, her smile turning to something a bit more sly. "Crush, hmm?" She teases, looking at his little box and then back his way. "Is your beautiful lil gadget stopping us from getting dessert? That will be the only red mark against you in my eyes, I think."

*

Peabody blinks, then makes a face, "Uh… yeah, sorry about that. Ahem." he reaches out and taps it again, the odd shimmer around them vanishes, though the audio distortion remains, "There. They should deliever in short order now that they can see we're not um… otherwise engaged."

*

"I can see that having some very fun applications outside of the stealth and business type." The statement is more of something of agreeing more so than assumption. He was a genius, after all, he probably thought of everything that little box could be used for. "Anyway, yes. Sorry. If there's more I can do for you, let me know. I want to help with the gun, if I may. We can also work on measurements and the like for my armor. Even if I want to be like him, make him proud, I want to be /more/ than him."

*

Peabody smirks at that, "Then why not skip all the technology?" he asks curiously, "I'm not suggesting it, it's not really my field of expertise mind you, but you have to realize the world you're in now has access to the greatest minds of any generation, many of which of biomanipulation specialists. You're half way to meta human as it is, if any of my records are to be believed, why worry about a gun when you /might/ be able to do things without one? Mind you, this is just the curious mad scientist in me asking."

*

"Did your homework on me, huh?" She smirks, glancing down a bit but at least not changing in attitude this time. "I…don't know. What I can do, with my mind, was there and ready for me. I didn't need anyone else. To be honest, I've never asked anyone else for help before now." Tapping her fingers against her knee, she crosses her legs and exhales. "How do you even go about something like that? 'Hey, I was jacked up when I was in lock down, can we amp that up?'"

*

Peabody grins, "In my line of work? Are you kidding me? I do triple checks on the girl who makes my morning latte. Her biology grades are slipping, I think she met a boy." he says as if having that kind of knowledge about a random stranger wasn't creepy at all. He reaches up and scratches the back of his head, "Honestly, I don't know. I do tech, wet work stuff squibbs me out. I have uh… I have some family that happened to. A lot of them actually." another pause, "All of them but one really. It's not always… a good thing. Ya know?" he shoots her a look, "I was mostly playing around, but I mean, if you're serious, I might could set you up with a meeting or three. Fair warning, the bio types tend to be a bit off. Messing with the human genome takes a level of creepy that I'm not sure us tech guys can match."

*

"I'll think about it. You have the idea and I've…flirted with it myself. To be honest, I hated that part of my life. That time in my life, I should say." She shrugs. "It's something to consider." Her smile returns once they actually receive their desserts. With an ever cheerful clap, she sits up and claims a spoon (the right kind, too) before giving thanks and digging in. "Holy shit…" She muffles around her spoon, eyes wide and searching Peabody's face.

*

Peabody hasn't touched his, was sitting back in his seat and watching her, waiting, "I told you." he says smugly, "Say what you want to about over priced up tight douche bag chefs, but this sumbitch knows his art." he then plucks up his own utensil, the wrong one, and begins nibbling small bites of his own dessert.

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