2011 07 12: Gear Up

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Mission Name: Gear Up
Date of Mission: July 12th, 2011
Locale: Army-Navy Surplus — West Village - Manhattan

Kidd needs some military-grade equipment. With Cole and Diaz's help, he gets geared up properly.

Cole Diaz Kidd

Military surplus, check: shop owner, check: early into the evening and approaching that time of day where stores can be closed up, check. Diaz currently sits behind counter at the front of the store while in the process of cleaning out a forty-five caliber semiautomatic, an M1911 specifically, and taking her time with it. She likes to be precise. So with her knees on her stool, she contents herself with this while her pair of employees man the downstairs area in the middle of cleaning up. Coincidentally, the place smells like cheese and pepperoni. Briefly, she glances up to the side and towards the front of the building where metal bars protect the glass windows and door but refrain from blocking off the golden reds of a sunset in the background.

There comes the thumpity-thump-thump-thump of combat boots jogging down the stairs from the apartment above, the sound much louder than would lead one to predict the petite bleached blonde who finally appears at the bottom. Carrying her bomber jacket on the way down, she slips into it as she approaches the counter, not here to buy or even browse, but simply because, well, she's bored. It's easy to tell from how she comes listlessly up to the counter, crosses her arms over the edge of it and then just sort of leans there for a moment, looking at Diaz through slightly bloodshot eyes. "So… what's up?" she asks after a moment of this.

The door chime if there is one suddenly sounds out, The form of Kidd moving into the establishment. A simple black watchcap of the beanie style worn atop his head, while those intense eyes slowly work over the shop. The small blond and the woman behind the counter cleaning the M1911 are noted and a small nod is offered as he steps into the place further making his way down along the counter. A closer glance is given to the weapon that Diaz is cleaning, "Nice firearm, 835 feet per second muzzle velocity. Not the greatest out there but very dependable." A small smile is offered to her before his eyes focus upon Cole giving the blonde a small nod, "Hello there." His eyes watching the two a moment before he glances over the shop as if looking for something.

Diaz has a rag in her lap. She uses it to vaguely - using it as a rather loose term at the moment - clean her left hand before she leans over forward to reach for one of the pizza boxes around the shop. It's slid in the direction of Cole's entrance. "Dinner," quips the woman. She might have said more, probably would have too, if it weren't for the entrance of someone else into her little haven of a bunker. Since the guy happens to be the only customer at the moment her focus lingers and she soon enough smiles in greeting before returning to her work. As he gets closer, she looks back up. "Nice to see someone that knows there way around a classic. Better than 'bangers running with glocks, but this isn't mine. Just another item for sale. Anything we can help you with?"

It's about then that she looks in Cole's direction and squints at the blonde's eyes. There's a suspicious look and then Diaz shifts her weight in order to actually sit upon her stool. That leads into leaning towards Cole to try and smell at her.

"Sweet," Cole replies when dinner is offered her way, and her enthusiasm for food is perhaps just another piece of evidence in the case Diaz is currently mounting against her. She snags a slice from the box, taking a bite as she turns to regard the newcomer. "Yo," she greets, still chewing, tossing off a little salute with the pizza slice. Continuing to turn until her back is to the counter, she holds the pizza in her mouth so she can use her hands to hop right up onto the counter to sit. There are advantages to being itty-bitty. In all this, she doesn't seem to notice Diaz sniffing at her — but no doubt the woman will recognize a familiar scent. Instead, she looks to Kidd with some vague curiosity, waiting his response to Diaz's inquiry.

Kidd smiles softly hearing the words from Diaz, "Well I can only hope so, I am looking for a wet suit for someone of my build. Head to toe preferably, As well as 600 feet of 540 pound test strength static kemmantle rope, To NFPA standards. About 6 feet of black webbing, 8 double locking carabiners, A Aluminum Descender as well as a Molle Vest as well as the attachable pockets and a 3 compartment Molle Butt pack." The words leaving the man rather easily as he looks back to her. His fine brow raising in question finally, "Is that something I might be able to find here?" His attention turning to Cole giving her a small nod as his right hand drifts into his pocket removing a small container of tick tacks. His hand brings it to his mouth as he pops back 3 of the small white items in the container but to anyone who has ever truly had tick tacs or is paying any attention, it isn't them.

Diaz stops investigating Cole's proverbial ass in lieu of listening to the order being said by Kidd. She's good with her memory and can list them off mentally for later; for now, she gives a quick nod and leaves the Colt unfinished in order to stand up and begin heading out from behind the counter. "You better eat all of that then, you." The remark is said to Cole and Diaz pats her on a nearby knee in passing, and then she's off navigating the store to join Kidd. The container's looked at briefly and though she could say something- narcotics, her specialty- she decides against in favor of offering her right hand after pulling up her jeans. "Maria," she greets, "We've got plenty of kernmantle and it can be cut to order. It's not on sale, but we do have it. Nearing closing too, but I can start you off with a wet suit." She stops and turns around, "Twilight, you mind helping me some? I can tell you what to get so long as you can fetch it."

"Yes, ma'am," Cole replies, mid-bite, giving Diaz an almost amused look, as much as the baked teen has an expression about anything. After listening to the beginning of Kidd's list, she sort of zones out, watching someone walk a dog past the window on the sidewalk outside while she continues mowing down the slice of pizza. "Huh?" She only tunes back in at that most dreaded of nicknames, but for once doesn't even bitch about it. Instead she hops down from the counter and meanders a little closer, finishing off the last few bites of crust as she comes. Then wiping her hands on her skirt, she gives a nod to the woman. "Sure, boss. But go slow. I do cars, not … wet suits." That was the only part she really caught.

Kidd smiles softly at the greeting given and the name as well by Diaz, "Kidd" His right hand slips the little box of not tic tacs back into his pocket only to extend out in offering to her. "And well sorry for coming in late, Been searchin town for the right feel of a shop. The smell of oil and well the feeling of being in a bunker again takes me back." A soft chuckle slips from him as he watches her a moment before looking out over the shop, "As for the rope, 3 sections two cuts to 150 feet and the third to 300 feet should do. And well starting off with the wet suit works fine for me." His shoulders raise and fall back in a faint shrug. His attention though finally turns towards Cole, "So cars huh? Driving, remodeling, outfitting? Which area?" His fine brow raises in question as he watches the small blonde for a few moments.

Diaz commits to the handshake in the middle of looking over her shoulder to Cole. "It's easy," she begins to explain, "I'll call out the numbers and the sections. Everything's marked so just bring what I say to the counter. I'll ring it up from there. That okay with you?" She just needs to clean it all and make things prim and proper; but she's no military grunt or anything. Plus, it keeps a baked Cole away from wet suits. In the middle of walking towards the wet suits, she's murmuring to herself, "Two to one-fifty, one to three-hundred." The mantra doesn't last too long. A measuring tape is picked up off of a shelf in passing before she gestures to a weight scale for Kidd to step on. "I'm guessing two-hundred pounds though- So probably a two-x, just need to be certain."

"Find the number. Yeah, I think even I can manage that," Cole agrees with some wry self-deprecation, glancing over at Diaz with a faint grin. "Sorta like Sesame Street with guns. Which woulda been a much more educational show." Looking back to Kidd, she cants her head to one side, squinting at him faintly. "Repairing, upgrading, appreciating…" she replies in an easy tone, trailing off slightly at the end like there might be more that even she realizes she shouldn't add. Remembering that she agreed to help just moments before, she begins to head over to the shelves, eyeing them thoughtfully. "Where do I start?"

Kidd nods his head hearing the words from Diaz, His steps leading him along behind her to step on the scale. "Little bit more then 200 pounds." His eyes looking around allowing her to see the weight of 223 pounds for herself, His attention drifting back towards Cole hearing the woman's words about cars. "Ahh well you do any contract work? For upgrading and even some driving on occasion?" His eyes watching as the woman begins to move around to begin to help. His attention returning once more to Diaz, "So you past service then? Or just like the gear?" His right hand raising up to motion over the place.

Diaz totally needs to upgrade. She's using one of the government's old medical scales, the manual kind, but she comes to the result that Kidd's referenced: 223 pounds, give or take an ounce. It isn't that accurate and doesn't need to be. "Me? Nah, just got it passed onto me by an uncle- he was a marine. I'm a quick-study, spending my time around here after school got me hooked up in his will, said I'd do better by this stuff than the rest of my family- a chick like me? Go figure. Guess I like it, better than living on the streets. You?"

Diaz does well in keeping up with both of the conversations and in gesturing for Kidd to step down so that she can use the measure to get his exacts she's also calling out numbers and letters for Cole. The letters correspond to each section of the shop and the numbers a specific item: double and triple digits gets into specific varieties of each item.


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