3717/Memory Lane

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Memory Lane
Date of Scene: 23 January 2018
Location: Unknown
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Alfred Pennyworth, Melinda May




Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     It's a quiet evening, the sun slowly sets behind heavy cloud cover drowning the world in tall shadows from the remaining structures of what had at one point long ago been a boot-camp for the us military. The buildings have been left abandoned for some time moss begun to overgrow bits and pieces of the old worn down buildings.

     In the shadow of the tallest building on the lot rests a silver Aston Martin DB5, a lone figure resting against the hood of the car watches the sun slowly drift behind the clouds. He's dressed in a navy blue suit with mirror polished shoes reflecting the sky high above. In one hand he holds a lit cigarette smouldering slowly away to nothing. In the other a cup of coffee. The figure slowly nurses the coffee, eyes lost in the clouds as he spends his evening relaxing in a quiet, abandoned part of town that'd not seen much use since the 40's.

Melinda May has posed:
More quietly than any small jet or propeller-driven plane but still audible in the quiet sunset, a plane shaped a bit like an eagle ray approaches, then slows to a hover before settling down gently behind one of the many abandoned buildings, hiding it from casual view. The evening grows quiet again as the jet's VTOL engines apparently power down.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Alfred slowly comes to a stand, hopping off the hood of his expensive car. His attention drifting up towards the shape in the sky as eyes narrow. A long drag is taken from his cigarette as the figure slowly begins to step away from his car, slowly making his way through the faded green overgrowth in this once great military base.

Melinda May has posed:
From behind that building, the sound of a motorcycle engine starting can be heard. It revs for a moment, then sits and idles. Very faintly around the sound of the engine (something Italian by the sound of it, Ducati perhaps?) some sort of hydraulics can be heard operating.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     "I for one wouldn't have parked in a tow-away zone." Alfred chimes out as he rounds the corner before even seeing who waits on the other side of the building. His demeanor calm and collected as his feet crunch the withering grass along his path. His dry British charm ringing through with each word as he comes to a stop, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Melinda May has posed:
May waits around the corner next to an idling -- yup, Ducati -- motorcycle with the rear loading ramp of the jet just closing behind her. She's got a slightly odd-looking pistol aimed squarely at the man, and by the way she's holding the firearm, she knows how to use it. "Turn around and leave."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     "If I turned around every time someone shoved a gun in my face I'd never get anywhere." Alfred states in a calm, collected manner looking over the bike, and more specifically the gun aimed at him. There's not the usual fear one would expect an unarmed man to have when facing down the barrel of a gun. "The name's Pennyworth, Alfred Pennyworth" Added with a calm smile as he puffs away at his cigarette.

Melinda May has posed:
May studies the man with the gaze of a trained combatant, possibly military. She knows better than to discount anyone due to their age and this man, desptite his posh demeanor and manners, does not look like someone who has grown soft with the years. Her eyes linger for a moment on his face, perhaps noticing the scar on his cheek despite the fading light.

It takes several seconds, but she seems to decide something and lowers the sidearm though by no means does she drop her guard. "Mr. Pennyworth, why are you lurking around an abandoned army training camp?"

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     Alfred allows his hand to fall from the concealed firearm as May lowers her weapon. When he'd managed to make the move to grab it is anyone's guess. "One could easily ask you the same question." As he takes the cigarette from his mouth for a moment to dust off some of the ash. "However, if you must know I come out here to relax." A light tilt of his head as he says the last word. "It helps me get in the mood for writing, to head out here with a pack of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a good book."

Melinda May has posed:
"Then perhaps you should go back to your coffee and book." She tucks the firearm into her jacket, the leather-like garment moving almost convincingly leather-y. Almost. To the trained eye, it's very likely armored, and quite possibly conceals other weapons besides the firearm. "If you touch the plane, it'll shock you like a taser."

She pulls a pair of yellow-lens pilot's glasses from her jacket and moves to get on the bike. Clearly she intends to go on about her business.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     "No need to get violent Agent May." Alfred says with a bit of a chuckle, as he starts to walk his way back around the corner. The smoke from his cigarette raises up into the sky slowly but surely even pouring out from the corners of his mouth. "Enjoy your evening." Added as he takes that first step.

Melinda May has posed:
May is all prepared to just get on the motorcycle and go, as she has places to be, people to talk to. And this man, while clearly no coward, just really doesn't factor in to her plans for tonight. His addressing her by name, however, that gets the firearm aimed at Alfred again. "Where did you hear that name?" She cuts the bike's engine, making the sound of the pistol's safety being realeased seem a bit louder.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     In an instant quicker then the eye can catch Alfred is Facing may once more with an unholstered Walther PPK 7.65mm. "You know, if you keep pointing that at me eventually I might get the wrong idea." The motion is swift and graceful with the speed of a lifetime agent. His jacket billows in the wind of his motion still catching up with the rest of him as heels have dug into the grass during his quick turn spin. "Melinda 'The Calvary' May agent of shield, over 20 years distinguished service. It's hard not to know about you in the intelligence community."

Melinda May has posed:
May isn't surprised often. This time is one of them. She's good enough to not let it show, though. "MI6, then." She lowers the ICER once again, and this time actually lets her guard down the tiniest amount.

"You're on the wrong side of the pond, aren't you? Or did you actually choose /New Jersey/ to retire to?"

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     With a single motion the Walther vanishes back into its holster, his jacket falling back into place. "Yes, once upon a time I was on her majesty's secret service." He flicks the holsters clip back shut with a single finger, pressing it into place. "You'd be surprised how nice the summers are in Gotham." He pauses for another drag of his cigarette before letting the burnt end drop from his mouth, a quick stomp of his shoe enough to snuff out the remaining flame. "It's actually quite remarkable" Spoken in a deadpan voice.

Melinda May has posed:
Tucking the ICER away again, May watches Alfred. She's guessing by his reaction speed (still), that he's likely a retired 00 agent. "I wouldn't know," she comments in reply to his mention of summers in Gotham. "I don't usually spend a lot of time around here." Definitely not during the day.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     "Well you'll just have to take my word for it that the summer evenings are the best time for it." Offered with a small smile as he walks a bit closer. His attention drifts back up to the sky and those beautiful rolling black clouds overhead. A deep breath of fresh air taken into his lungs. The words "Double Oh Seven" are uttered as he looks to the sky, confirming the suspicions of Agent May. "If you're curious."

Melinda May has posed:
Seriously? The notorious 007? He's legendary, both in his effectiveness as an agent and as a cautionary tale of what NOT to do as an agent. But, that explains how he knows who she is. She settles onto the Ducati's seat, turning the bike's key in preparation to restarting the engine. "I see. Then you'll understand why it's best that I keep a low profile when meeting with my contacts here in Gotham." Well, as low profile as one can be when climbing to the rooftops of random brownstones.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     The smile turns to a smirk on the old agents face as he looks down towards the bike. His silence carrying on for a solid moment before he finally replies. "I suppose you're not wrong in that regard." He pauses for a moment. "I'll try not to go shouting your name to the high heavens." He looks her in the eyes. "Assuming you'll give me the same courtesy."

Melinda May has posed:
May starts the Ducati's engine, and it turns over to a relaxed rumble. "I'm sorry, Mr. Pennyworth, I don't see how anyone would care if I yelled your name. Unless you have a bad reputation in town." She really doubts that, though. That kind of behavior would be anathema to a long-term cover. And from the looks of him, he's pretty well settled here -- the clothes are clearly of very good quality, and the shoes are nearly immaculate, meaning he didn't walk here.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
     This gets a genuine laugh from the elderly gentleman. "Right again." As it fades to a reserved chuckle. His stride taking him further away as he steps back towards the wall from which he came around. "We will of course meet again Agent May, of that much you can be certain."

Melinda May has posed:
Unaware that the man can likely hear her over the motorcycle's engine, May mutters faintly to herself, "Not if I can help it." Then she takes a moment to put on gloves and wrap a black scarf around the lower part of her face to fend off the January evening chill before she revs the bike's engine slightly and starts off at a gentle acceleration in deference to the grass and gravel. She passes by Alfred, then the DB5 -- nice car, but completely predictable -- and is out of the base's currently open gate and accelerating quickly away.