Slightly backdated

[exceptionalthief]

WHO: Hans Gruber; open to new cr and old
WHERE: some dive in Maurtia Falls
WHEN: pre plant monsters
WHAT: selling bombs, making new criminal friends, living double lives etc.
WARNINGS: probably none, will update.
Notes: please see this comment for a more detailed description of the situation bc I suck.


When you want to sell the illegal explosives you've been manufacturing in the basement of a Christmas store, building a display on the sales floor isn't really an option [BARGAIN BOMB BIN! MAKE THE HOLIDAYS A BLAST!] so subsequently, Hans has been soliciting business at a more appropriate venue: a well-trafficked bar in Maurtia Falls' seedy underworld.

Given his usual well-groomed designer suit look, some might think he'd stick out like a sore thumb and eyed with suspicion by the criminal element, but his many years with the West German Volksfrei Movement had given him more than enough experience in situations of this sort; how to talk, how to dress, how to conduct shady business deals.

While he hasn't gone the full-terrorist look, he's a little scruffier than usual, casually clad in a nondescript trench coat, but still recognizable to friends and acquaintances who are more familiar with his usual appearance—at least after maybe a second or third look, with the setting not helping in that respect either. He's a Christmas store manager for god's sake. What on earth is he doing here?

What are you doing here for that matter?

Comments

[notayoungman]

The man most knew as simply a number was finding lately he had an asset he hadn't known for several decades. Anonymity. While his masked persona was gaining something of a reputation in the city, the face under it was known only to a few. It had taken months to get used to that idea, as back home the entire world knew his face, even under the age and the scars. But here, once the mask came off, there was no one to know he'd once been the very face of heroism. And that made his job much, much easier.

He'd been tracking various leads through the underground channels of Maurita Falls, slowly working his way up several chains in an attempt to cut as many off at the source as he could manage. Usually it was drugs or weapons. But hearing whispers of explosives was certainly enough to get his attention. When he heard the supposed supplier was going to be approachable, he had to check it out.

So he walked into that bar without his mask or his patriotic leather. He looked like he fit in there. Worn, weary, dressed all in dark clothes. He scanned over the bar, intending to make sure this guy was the real deal. Set up a buy. Take him down. Or so he thought.

There were other details to assess. Exits from the bar. Number of civilians. Was the seller at the bar, in a booth, or at a table? He'd never been able to let go of that tactical way of assessing situations, whether it was with one man or a battalion of well armed rebel omnics.

[exceptionalthief]

The thing about being a former terrorist and having lots of experience in making shady deals, is that by necessity, one learns to be careful to an excessive degree, with layers upon layers of contacts and more security filters than a CIA op. Even though he's only been in the bomb-selling market for a couple of months now, Hans has been cultivating connections in Maurtia Falls' underworld for quite a bit longer than that, ever since Crane recommended the area back when he'd first arrived, some seven months ago.

So, his network is somewhat established and not being a novice in the least little bit, no deals are ever made directly between himself and the buyer, needless to say. He's not a kid selling drugs on a street corner after all and there's nothing approachable about him; sitting in one of the darker areas of an already dark establishment, mostly only talking to the bartender who occasionally checks to see if he's in need of another drink.

While there are certainly a multitude of places in the city Hans could conduct illicit business, a big appeal of this particular bar is how well it fits in with his own way of operating; professionalism and discretion being key. Cautious to a fault. Anyone who walks into the place expecting to catch criminals making transactions in the act or wanting some action themselves is likely to go away frustrated; while there may be a lot of criminals here, there aren't a lot of stupid ones.

And they can tell when a newcomer is obviously casing the joint. A few imperceptible nods and surreptitious head-tilts later, a fairly amiable but definitely well-muscled man (who's been standing pretty close nearby all along) turns his head, addressing the stranger. "You seem like you're looking for someone, old-timer. Need any help?"

[devoutish]

Having a drink, that's what he's doing. Just one, because it's more for show than anything else. There are certain bars and pubs that he likes to show his face in regularly, just so people (friends, enemies, business partners past and present) know that he's still alive and around. He's on his way home for the evening, and this is just a quick stop - but as luck would have it, he happens to slide onto the stool next to Hans, completely at random.

Alfie is passingly familiar with the name Hans Gruber, and he vaguely recognizes his face, so he gets a grunt and a nod in greeting. "Good night for it. Fucking freezing out there."

[exceptionalthief]

Even if it's a bar that might have a certain reputation as a criminal hangout, that doesn't necessarily mean everyone who hangs out here is a criminal—there are other reasons after all, why a person might seek the company of rough men in a city a bit removed from where he lives and works and Hans is a big fan of multitasking. Granted, that isn't exactly his primary concern, but it does make for a good story, if anyone were to look more closely than he'd like at his reasons for being here.

As far as the man sitting next to him is concerned however, Hans doesn't know him well enough to feel any need to explain his presence here or immediately make any assumptions about Alfie's.

"That it is," he agrees, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Solomons, isn't it? Still doing that cooking show?"

[devoutish]

"Ah, no, I'm done with that," Alfie replies, shaking his head. "No, I've moved on. Got other things on my plate - new projects, old projects, you understand." He gives Hans a meaningful look. He probably understands more than most.

[exceptionalthief]

Just because he wasn't making any assumptions presently, that doesn't mean he hadn't heard a few rumors; rather vague ones, anyway—people exercising caution as they are wont to do in these parts. There were probably equally vague rumors about himself—at least in certain circles, and the look Alfie gives him tells him as much.

"A pity, it was entertaining," he remarks. "But ultimately dissatisfying I'd imagine, if you'd rather be doing other things."

[devoutish]

"You can listen to my podcast, if you like," he says. "Same sort of content, but without the cooking, and without the middle man. All profits and such, donations - those'll go to me, not a radio station."

[exceptionalthief]

"Is that so? Yes, I'll have to make a point of it," he replies, wondering if such a thing could be used to transmit coded messages, considering there's no radio station to police the content.

"Enjoying some success with it, are you?"

[devoutish]

"It's popular, yeah." Granted, he has no real idea why, when he'd started out with the intent of making people stop listening - he's chalking it up to him being an imPort. (Teenagers and twentysomethings finding him edgy and ironic are also a huge part of the audience, but he's not very aware of that aspect of it.)

"I don't engage the audience much; they're all fucking bizarre to like something like this."

[exceptionalthief]

"Well, there's no accounting for taste," he says jokingly, although he's slightly more serious as he goes on. "People tend to embrace innovation these days in their entertainment, to an extreme extent." Or so he's noticed, anyway, being about thirty years behind the current time period himself.

"Your other projects—" he begins, moving the conversation along. "I suspect you might have a few connections that would interest me."

[devoutish]

"Really." His tone is light, but not dismissive. "Mr. Gruber, wasn't it?"

He knows that it was, just like he's sure Hans remembers his name - but still, they've only spoken personally a couple of times, and it's been a while.

[exceptionalthief]

"Correct," he replies, with just a flash of an acknowledging smile. Like himself, Alfie apparently makes it a point to notice the names of people with whom he converses on the network.

And to continue- "Yes. People who might know people who might be interested in certain merchandise." Specific details to be named later.

[devoutish]

"Mm." Alfie sits back in his chair, swiveling to face Hans fully. "And are you asking me to pass names on to you, or a good word about you on to them?"

[exceptionalthief]

His smile comes back, accompanied by an eyebrow lift.

"Did I say anything about names? I don't find identification to be a necessary component."

[devoutish]

"All right, then." Alfie gestures him to go on. Tell him exactly what you want, Hans.

[exceptionalthief]

"Meaning, you know my name and I assume, the names of any connections you may have. If you were to act as an intermediary and continue in that role, I'm simply saying it isn't necessary for me to know exactly who's making any purchases," he goes on to explain. "I'd like to make things as untraceable as possible."

[devoutish]

"Ah, you're interested in hiring me, then." That definitely perks Alfie's ears up, and he leans forward even more, resting an elbow on the bar counter. "You're looking to sell?"

[exceptionalthief]

"I am," he confirms. "In both respects. Is that a thing that would interest you?" Even if the other man's reaction would seem to already answer the question.

[devoutish]

"Tell me what you've got and I'll tell you if I've got clients for it," Alfie says. "I know all sorts of people, interested in all sorts of things."

[exceptionalthief]

His glance around is fairly casual, not looking in the least as if he's making sure no one else is within earshot before he imparts any potentially incriminating information, his voice even lower when he answers the question.

"Might they be interested in some rather unique explosives?"

[devoutish]

"Explosives. Mm." He actually has to to think about this one. He's started to dabble just a little in selling guns - mostly to open up avenues to provide himself with guns - but explosives are a whole new ballgame. "What's unique about them?"

[exceptionalthief]

"Their appearance mostly, but also their composition," he replies. "They can be perfectly normal-looking mundane items, inside and out, although a little heavier than one might expect in some cases. All very innocent, until... boom."

[devoutish]

"How much power have they got, compared to something like a grenade?"

[exceptionalthief]

"It can vary, but at the high end about as destructive as four pounds of C4," he says, pausing to sip his drink before expanding a little on that. "Which could do a good job taking out something the size of a car, for example."

[devoutish]

"Impressive," he murmurs. "Yeah, I could find you buyers for that, easily."

[exceptionalthief]

"I imagined there'd be a good-sized market, yes." His smile is an indication of a conclusion of business, for the moment. "You'll be in touch?"

[devoutish]

"I"d like you to be in touch first," he says, jotting down his cell number on a paper napkin and sliding it over to Hans. "Give me details. Numbers, specifics. Those are the things my clients will want to know before they buy. But if you can provide those, then I can provide you with buyers."

[vanto]

Eli is obviously here for other reasons. He has no wish to collect bombs or make nice with criminals — Hans, however, walks a line between friend and acquaintance, enough for Eli to brave this sort of setting in order to meet him.

And really, Eli has no room to judge. He's been frequenting less than reputable places in his hunt for Woden so.

[exceptionalthief]

Like many places that are known for being venues where less than reputable transactions are conducted, this particular bar is multifaceted in that respect, in that there are a good many varied reasons a person might be in here; some of them highly illegal, others more moderately so, and a few others that might only just raise some eyebrows among one's friends and acquaintances. Not everyone is selling bombs and those that are certainly don't appear to be doing as much, which would be a good way to get arrested, needless to say.

Hans, for the most part, currently looks as though he's just having a drink and a cigarette. The place being what it is, it wouldn't be unreasonable to guess he has an interest in something underhanded, but who knows what it might be.

He sees Eli come in, although he himself might not be all too visible, sitting in a darker corner as he is. Taking a drag on his cigarette, he simply just watches the younger man for the moment.