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[locked to the Crowbar][all employees]
I think we have a bomber to find.
I get why this would be a mission that would be triggering for some of us. If you want out, I understand. This is something I've got to do.
I get why this would be a mission that would be triggering for some of us. If you want out, I understand. This is something I've got to do.
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It does make them human, or as close as possible. It's something Deb's always valued in people. She might come off as harsh; she might have a mouth like a truck driver, but underneath it all, Deb's human to an almost painful extent.
But it's better than being empty. It's better than not caring at all. The rage she feels sometimes, the sadness - the occasional bouts of happiness - it's all more reason to stay on her feet in a city that does what it can to knock her down.
That gets Deb laughing, too. "That's me," she says. "Sunshine and daisies and... I don't even fucking know." She makes a face, waving her hand. "The color pink."
It is an awesome joke!
"Right," Deb says. "'Cause if there's one thing people love, it's being asked the same fuckin' questions over and over again." But she shrugs, because as frustrating as this is probably going to be, it'll all be worth it if it gets them somewhere. Even the slightest thing can be a clue, sometimes, can be a lead that makes or breaks the case. So she takes a quick breath, pushes some of her hair out of her face, and walks up to the first door she sees.
This, at least, is something she knows how to do, despite her obvious lack of people skills. It's something she's comfortable with, if not thrilled about. For a second, it feels like any other case.
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He doesn't hire anyone that has lost their humanity. It's too dangerous. Someone has to feel for more than themselves. They have to feel for the shit that goes down in this city.
In some ways, it makes them more prone to mistakes. They are not robots. Their emotions affect them and lead to bad decisions more often than not. In fact, the last cases two sets went on were both nearly ruined by the fact that two of his people flew off the handle.
He didn't fire them though, because he knows that's what makes the difference between the Crowbar and other groups. It's what makes them human instead of prone to killing and having no limits to finding information.
"Don't forget kittens and rainbows," Sonny says with a smirk that widens into something of a smile as he continues walking.
He glances at her. "Yeah, they love it alright. Favorite fucking thing. It's mine too. Love when people show up asking me the same fuckin' questions all the time," Sonny says before he follows her up to that door and reaches over, knocking on the front of it.
There's a man that answers the door. "Hello? What do you want? We're closed."
Ah, fuck me with a hand grenade.
Somehow, impossibly, Sonny is already annoyed.
"Just here to ask a few questions. About this guy." He holds up the picture in his hand, taken from the video that they achieved. "You ever seen him before?"
"Who? The bomber? The cops already asked me questions. Who the hell are you two? Why would I talk to you?"
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True, emotions can get you in a lot of trouble. Deb's had plenty of experience with that, truth be told. There have been more than a few times where she's said something she shouldn't have said to one of her superiors - telling off someone from the FBI comes immediately to mind.
But it's different, here. Sonny's not exactly your regular boss, and even though Deb is rarely anyone but herself, anyway, she's less - awkward around Crowbar people. There's less hesitation.
"Yep, those too," Deb agrees with a laugh.
Deb is not impressed with the man at the door. She lets Sonny do the talking initially, until the guy asks why he'd talk to them.
"Oh, I don't know," Deb says, grinning in a way that manages to be both friendly and potentially vicious all at once. "Maybe because if you don't, we're just going to stand here all fucking day anyway."
She folds her arms across her chest. "Seriously. Nothing the fuck else to do. So do you know anything, or not?"
Their patience, Chicago, let Sonny and Deb show you it.
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He thinks it does.
He is not impressed with the man at the door either. Though he has trouble not snort laughing at Deb's response, he wants to look serious. So he folds his arms across his chest instead of laughing like he wants to do, and he gives the man a Well look.
"She's right. We've got nowhere else to be. You got a nice door. I could do some staring."
The man looks frustrated, staring between them both to try to figure out how serious they are. He shuts the door, waits thirty seconds, sees that they're not leaving, and opens the door again.
"Yeah, I've seen him. Think he lives in one of those apartment complexes over there." He gestures to the two across from the street. "Don't know his name. He always paid with cash. The police already searched 'em so I don't know what you're expecting to find. There. You fucking happy? You done? You gonna leave now? Cause I don't have time for this shit."
Sonny smiles all thin-like though it's clear that he is trying not to punch this guy in the head. "...have a nice day."
The door shuts behind him, and he turns to her. "Look at how fantastic we are. Already got some clues, and I only want to bang my head against a wall instead of put a fuckin' bullet in it. Progress on the interrogating front."
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She waits patiently - well, patiently for Deb - while the guy decides to play a quick game of hide-and-seek with them; she's used to this shit, really. No one likes having the cops coming around asking questions, no matter where you live. The guy has some serious attitude, but she lets out a relieved breath when he actually has useful information.
The guy gets another smile from Deb, with a few less teeth this time, and she says, "Thanks!" before the door gets shut in their faces.
She grins at Sonny, much more genuinely than she was smiling seconds ago. "Bullet-less interrogation is always score fuckin' one for the home team," she agrees. "I'm guessing the cops might've missed a few things, seeing as they don't have Rift-detector-thingies."
Yes, that is going to be Deb's word for that. She is a motherfucking world of professional, Deb.
It feels weird, for a second, referring to the cops as something she's not a part of - as a group that as far as she's heard can't exactly be trusted. Especially because what they're doing, now, feels almost like police work.
Without the violent feelings toward her partner, that is.
She shakes off the thoughts and looks back at Sonny, then asks, "Door number two, you think?"
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:xSonny sighs at the door to the face. If this is the kind of people they have to talk to, he is quickly going to move to wanting to send a bullet through his head instead. This shit is ridiculous.
This time he does snort at her response. "So so far we've got one point. Wonder how many we can wrack up. More than two and I'd say we're fucking champions," Sonny mutters as he shakes his head at the door. "Exactly. The little ball might show us where in the apartment's he's been staying. I'm gonna bet he's not there anymore, but if we figure out what name he's been using... easier to find him that way."
It's the best word for it, Deb, and it's not like Sonny has come up with a better one. He keeps calling it a ball which is sorely lacking in information about what it can do.
Sonny is glad she has no violent feelings toward him. It makes this whole process a little easier.
"Yeah, door number two then we try out this thing in the apartment buildings see if someone can't give us a name," he says and then moves on to the next door.
There's some part of him that's cringing already.
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Anywho!
"Sounds like a pretty fucking fair assessment to me," Deb agrees. Although if they make it through this day without severely harming anyone, they're champions, anyway. Truth.
As has been said, she does have a way with words. Not a conventional way, but a way!
It really does.
"Works for me," Deb says with a nod, but she takes another breath as they move on to the next door.
This time the door is opened by a woman. She's old, grey-haired, and tiny, and before Deb can even start to say hello, the woman starts babbling at them in what Deb's pretty sure is Russian.
It is really just a perfect day.
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All the time. ..that came out wrong somehow.
"I'm good at doing the assessing," he says with a smirk that falls into a grimace. Fucking people. "It's situations like this that make me wonder why I'm putting all the effort into doing good for a city full of so many fuckin' idiots..."
Sonny says that jokingly. The narration thinks.
Maybe.
It's Russian. Sonny recognizes it, but he only knows a few words. He shakes his head a few times at the woman, says something back to her in the few words of Russian that he does know. It's very possibly Shut up as she looks like she's going to smack him before she slams the door shut in their faces.
"...I'm a charmer."
There's a long pause.
"Have I mentioned that before? Feels like I have. I'm a real charming fellow."
Sonny takes a step back from the door. "Lets say we... start out toward that apartment building Grumpy Britches pointed out. I'll use the ball again, see what it comes up with. Kinda limited on number of uses but I'm thinking this is important enough to warrant it."
It's the most perfect day.
"...you want to try it out?" is what he'll ask when they get to the apartment building.
Yes, Deb, do you want to try out his ball?