It was pure luck that Mime Bomb and Neal the Eel managed to meet up at the edge of the same Venice canal, as when their ex-ally Carmen Sandiego and her team had given chase, the pair hadn't actually gotten to interact at their meeting point, and had been sent in completely opposite directions. However, it seemed that they had similar instincts when it came to evasion tactics, and were surprisingly on the same wavelength when they skidded to a halt in front of one another in the public walkway. They'd taken one look at each other, glanced to the watery, gondola-filled road they stood by, and leapt.
The white-faced clown's shoulder checked hard into the body manning the boat the two thieving agents landed in, Mime deftly swiping the shirt and hat off the man he callously sent into the river. In a movement as smooth, he'd donned the items. Meanwhile, the oily-haired man joining him in the boat had crouched to grab a rope sitting on the floor and hastened to form it into a double-ended loop, tossing one ring to snag another gondola that had just passed in the crowded canal. All at once, the pair was almost undetectable to anyone scanning from the cement bank, blending in with the countless watercrafts as Mime pretended to power the gondola with an imaginary pole.
"Well, we sure gave them the old slipperoo, didn't we, mate?" Neal breezed in a thick New Zealand accent, "You might say you and Neal the Eel make quite the team, don'chya think?" A coy beat. "Well ya might say that...if you weren't the quiet type." He did have to say, that had been quite the well-executed escape for having not been coordinated at all.
Watching the other man lean casually on the boat's edge, Mime Bomb then rolled his eyes, unimpressed. Someone was jumping the gun, wasn't he? Quite the team? Neal's comment had quite literally been the first bit of dialogue the pair had exchanged in the field. They knew of each other, of course - operatives of the Villains International League of Evil were briefed on all other operatives for just such purposes as recognizing each other and knowing what to expect should they be selected to work together - but they hadn't worked together previously.
As well, Mime didn't think it was time to get so cozy just yet. Not only had Neal immediately seen fit to relax as soon as he was out of sight of their opposition, he was already making familiar quips about his partner. Behind Neal's back, Mime silently mocked the other's mouthiness to himself, sensing a flippant air that threatened to be obnoxious.
The next second, Neal subverted that attitude by sitting taller and thrusting a finger into the air, declaring, "We should move up the timetable, and steal those masks tonight."
Hm. Alright. So maybe Neal wasn't a moron. Maybe he was just confident. Mime could admit he liked to feel smug about a well-executed ruse. Still, it seemed like Neal was awfully fast to get comfortable.
Case in point, as the slippery-themed man in the black bodysuit moved to undo their boat's tether and the vessel gently drifted to bump against the canal's curb, he hopped spryly out and was back to breezy as he walked towards a cafe table not twenty feet away. Sitting readily and leaning back, he carried on his thought. "Still got the rest-a the day, though. What ya wanna do with it, eh, mate? We could do some sight-seein'. Hardly got to enjoy the Piazza before Team Red tromped in."
Stepping up behind the other man, peeling off the shirt he'd borrowed and tossing it into the water behind him, along with the hat that he now replaced with his usual black beret, Mime Bomb approached the cafe table and placed his wrists on his hips, mouth in a pursed pout. Then he turned sideways and walked several steps backwards across Neal's field of view, lastly halting and bending forward as he tapped his temple, eyes widening pointedly.
Neal's brow quirked slightly. "All work, eh? Well, you're prob'ly right we should have a back-up plan if old Black Sheep is darkening our flock, but can't we do both? Ever heard of stopping to smell the roses, mate?"
Mime paused, that very expression happening to be one he favored, and even used as an excuse to be in unusual places now and again. As well, he noted that Neal appeared to have absolutely no trouble interpreting him, and replied as though he'd been speaking words. This was highly irregular. Most often, folks spent a good while puzzling out his antics and then parroting his actions back to him in guess form before replying. While Mime Bomb enjoyed this constant game of charades and making others work for information when it was juicy, it was also almost refreshing to hear himself addressed so normally.
Gesturing to the seat across from him, Neal invited, "Come on then, have a load off. Tell me all about yourself."
Now Mime's face fell flat once more. Neal knew exactly what he'd done there.
Coming forward, Mime did opt to join the other at the table, but rather than take the seat offered, he bent his knees and sat on the air beside it, pointedly taking an imaginary second chair.
Neal's notably large front teeth were exposed as he gave an amused smile. "You're dedicated to your bit, Oi'll give ya that," he granted, "Never in all my years have Oi seen a gimmick quite like yours. Eh, but Oi like it. It's fun." He was only four years the clown's senior, but he still had a lot more experience packed into those years, and exposure to four whole graduating classes of V.I.L.E. Academy. They'd certainly never had a mime agent in the organization.
"Heard you're an elite, too," Neal continued smiling, "So it must be workin' for ya, then." A beat. "Oi'd sure say it's workin' for ya. Stripes is definitely your color." Resting his chin on the knuckles of one hand, a cheeky wink was sent to the redheaded man across from him.
Mime Bomb's shoulders tensed visibly as his eyes widened in stun. Had that just been what he thought it had been? Forget familiar, was Neal seriously flirting with a coworker he'd just met? Mime felt an uncharacteristic churn of fluster in his gut. People didn't flirt with him. He was the weird, gangly, quiet guy in the background, and he liked that role. It was exactly what enabled him to blend in and gather intel. As well, this was supposed to be work. How unprofessional was this Neal character to even go there when they had a heist to complete, and under the pressure of a tight clock? Stopping to smell the roses was one thing, but this was entirely another. His first thought when meeting his fellow agent certainly hadn't been how attractive he thought the other man was. Of course now the notion of consideration inevitably edged his train of thought.
Then again, it could just as easily be Neal's character. Another quip. Yes, that was the most likely option, come to think. He was clearly a jokester, even after only knowing him in person for a mere handful of minutes. Finding ease in that realization, Mime Bomb simply returned Neal's wink with an annoyed expression, dismissing the line entirely.
Neal let his hand fall to the table as his posture became more neutral, but his smile didn't leave. He found Mime Bomb's reaction to be quite endearing. Truthfully, the slimy Kiwi was indeed a notorious jokester, and he loved to push buttons, but there was a grain of genuine interest to his words. Not one to judge for quirks, he thought Mime Bomb was unique, and he wasn't half bad a looker. He also seemed fun to work with. Not someone he'd say no to a date with, and Neal was not a shy fellow in the slightest. Definitely quick to act. However, it seemed like Mime Bomb either didn't realize the genuine part of the compliment, or he was not actually open to the idea. Oh well. If the case was the latter, Neal could still get a kick out of teasing.
He watched as Mime Bomb rearranged the table dressing, using the napkin holder to represent the museum they were targeting and the salt and pepper shakers for themselves, beginning to formulate alternative plans of attack for whatever form of interference Carmen Sandiego might have in store.
...
As it turned out, the two thieves were well-synchronized when it came to actual planning as much as they were on-the-fly escapes. They were both masters of stealth and infiltration, and so shared knowledge of what obstacles to be aware of. They also shared opinions on priorities and rules. Have everything ready before beginning, and follow the plan. Bypass the security system, eliminate the guard, know your exit. With any luck, moving the heist to that night would allow them to beat Carmen Sandiego to beating them to it. She'd only preserve those priceless masks as public displays anyway, and where was the personal gain in that?
Being on the same page so well meant that making a plan didn't actually take that long, and it was hardly a surprise that immediately after having one, Neal was content in turning the conversation back to casual in a jiffy. As the pair made use of the cafe they'd settled at, enjoying Caprese salad, stromboli, and panini, Neal simply began talking about himself since Mime hadn't seemed to want to open up.
He reminisced fondly about V.I.L.E. Island, the criminal facility in which they'd both trained, noting Saira Bellum as his favorite of the teachers slash leaders of V.I.L.E. itself. She'd been the one providing him his handy suit that emanated the slime he used to aid him in his contortionism and squirming into places he shouldn't be. Slime based off of his own natural skin oils and sweat, a negative trait enhanced and multiplied into something useful. Though the soles of the suit's hands and feet were also incredibly gripping.
Mime Bomb still thought that sounded kind of gross...but it was certainly an example of owning oneself, no matter how weird, and working with what one had. It was exactly what he'd done, really coming into his own once he'd found the idea of becoming a permanent mime. He also liked their mad scientist of a teacher well enough, enjoying her deadly gadgets most of all, but she wasn't his favorite, and he felt oddly compelled to share his own experience. Standing, he'd put on a very stoic face and mimed putting a hand into a robe pocket, as well as holding the hilt of an imaginary sword. Then he slouched into an exaggerated sneaking pose and stepped in place a few times. Lastly, he stood back up, traced the brim of an invisible wide hat on his head and flipped an invisible long head of hair before crossing his arms in a huff and turning his face sourly to the side.
"Shadow-san was your fave, eh?" Neal sympathized, and Mime Bomb tapped his nose to indicate the guess was correct. "Yeah, Oi'll bet you were crackerjack at Stealth 101. Sure bet you're bitter about him defecting to the Red side as well." If his favorite teacher had ended up in cahoots with Carmen Sandiego, ex-codename Black Sheep and V.I.L.E.'s own homegrown mascot, he'd be pretty upset too. Neal may have been with the baddies, but one of his defining traits was fierce loyalty.
Brow furrowed, Mime Bomb nodded once in whole-hearted agreement, following it up with one fist striking laterally into an open palm. Traitors deserved to be punished. Those not following orders or simply doing wrong by V.I.L.E. ordinance deserved to be punished. His reputation as a spy and a snitch wasn't earned for nothing. He too was loyal to the organization and everything they stood for.
"Well, if Oi end up tussling with him again, Oi'll be sure to give him a few slips for your sake, eh?" Neal offered with a friendly face, "Handled him before well enough. Though it seems you did your fair share in that chase just now."
With this, Mime's stern expression had cleared and he actually offered Neal a pleasant smile. He appreciated the sympathy, and since they had made such great headway in their work, a spot of conversation wasn't all that horrible. Neal certainly had no trouble filling the silence. Maybe he was just friendly, and maybe he wouldn't be the worst partner in the world.
This time Mime Bomb sat in the real chair, joining the other at the table properly, though Neal's words also caught up to him as he did and his brow went up in realization. Staring at the other, he tilted his head in questioning.
Neal blinked. "What? Have Oi got a spot?" Touching his cheek, he thought he must, only puzzling further when Mime Bomb formed twin fists and knocked them together lightly.
Finally it clicked. "Oh! Fought Shadow-san?" A light laugh. "Sure did! Actually, Oi'm sure you'll love this. Lemme take ya back a few months to New Zealand..."
...
After brunch, Neal regaling Mime Bomb with the story of how he'd almost ended up on V.I.L.E.'s faculty within the last year to replace Shadow-san - something Mime Bomb was honestly impressed by; Neal was that good? - the two headed off to scope out their planned route of entry for the theft that night. Since it was going to be such a rush job, this time more than ever they had to be extra sure there were no surprise blockades, closed roadways or hitches of any sort.
Getting into the tunnels underneath Venice was shockingly easy. There were open arches available to anyone to just waltz into in lower parts of the city, seemingly almost entirely unpatrolled. Finding one that would connect to the depths below the museum was child's play. As they entered, rucksack in hand, Neal glanced about the place as Mime Bomb pinched his nose and then sagged while sticking his tongue out to exhibit disgust.
"Count yourself lucky we didn't try this during Acqua Alta, mate," he chided, "That'll happen off and on, sewers flooding over and up onto the streets. Sometimes five feet deep! 'd be way harder to break in down here with that goin' on. Well, maybe not for an eel like myself, but for you?" A light chuckle.
Mime's lips shifted and he rolled his eyes. He'd rather not think about getting drowned in sewer water, thank you. He'd also like to see Neal try and remove a manhole cover while underwater. He got the joke, but in all actuality, the random floods Venice, Italy experienced would have thrown a mighty wrench into their works.
"So which snakehole am Oi gonna be slithering out of, then?" a nonplussed question chirped.
Checking the plans of the building he'd been provided by V.I.L.E. on his phone, Mime Bomb scanned the tunnel around him and came to a halt in his steps. They ought to be directly underneath the display room the prized masks were located in, so he pointed down at the manhole he stood over. This was the one.
Neal was going to be the one executing the actual theft, but he couldn't be seen entering the masonry tunnels from the street, so he was going to be taking the route even lower to get in - the actual sewer maintenance line.
Pretending to spit on each of his palms and push up his sleeves, Mime Bomb limbered his fingers and bent at the waist to tug in predictable futility at the heavy metal covering bolted to the cement. He was simply adding a bit of personal flair to the point he was making.
Tossing down the rucksack as he approached, Neal couldn't help his eyes sliding for the rump Mime Bomb had just openly flaunted in his direction. Almost one hundred percent unintentional, Neal was sure, but a minute cheeky smile graced his lips. Flipping his wrist in a casual point towards that presented rear, the taller man quipped, "Hoo! Gotta say though, mate, your opening's one Oi sure wouldn't mind worming my way into~."
If Mime hadn't been certain if he was being flirted with before, that really ought to have cleared any mystery up.
In an instant, Mime Bomb had stood erect, arms coiled in stun and offense, his face expressing both emotions quite well as his cheeks darkened underneath pancake makeup. His wide eyes snapped towards Neal as he turned, hardly having expected a second come-on out of the other man's mouth, much less one so...direct!
Neal couldn't help a laugh. What a face! "What's the matter, mate? Not a bottom? Well, no worries. Oi'm flexible." With a smarmy grin, he swayed and wobbled his arms in waves to accentuate his point.
Mime Bomb's face turned slightly, calculating, though his gaze remained trained on the flippantly suggestive man. Was he...any level of serious? Or was he just looking for a reaction? It was hard to tell, given his playfully glib attitude. And was he going to keep doing this? Mime was not going to appreciate inappropriate, uncharming comments catching him off-guard all day. Just when he thought he'd been liking the other, as well.
"If you're wondering if those comments mean anything," Neal figured, "Only ever do if Oi get a nibble. Don't worry yer head, Oi know how to stay focused. Just fancy a bit-a teasing on the side, is all." Not everyone appreciated his colorful personality, but that didn't mean they didn't have to keep putting up with him pushing their buttons when he found out what worked on them.
Mime supposed he had to have been rather easy to read there. And, more composed, supposed he could just not nibble, then. If he didn't have to worry about Neal pushing too far, he could ignore...
"Fair's fair, though," Neal carried on as though discussing the weather, "What you think? Stare all ya want, mate. Oi did catch ya out." Turning his back to the other, he shifted and placed a hand on his hip, posing like a model and showing off his own hindquarters. Glancing over his shoulder he smirked, "Oi think Oi paint a pretty picture in this getup anyhow. Highlights the assets, you know?"
Unavoidably, Mime Bomb's eyes slid to where they were invited. Where he was being invited to consider the same thing Neal had been imagining a mere moment ago. And again, Mime Bomb found himself intimidated by such a forward and blatant suggestion. As well, he was unable to deny that skin-tight suit clung well to the taller man.
With this display, it was likely safe to assume that Neal was very probably actually attracted to Mime Bomb, but then what did Mime Bomb think about that?
Forcing his eyes away from the slippery Kiwi, the clown-faced party considered that maybe he was so affronted because this was unfamiliar territory. He was most often focused on the job, and did not put much thought into things like flirting unless he was as sarcastic as many of his gestures leaned, although he wasn't without his moments of giving a charming gesture simply to be a gentleman. Alas, these were almost always ignored entirely, as they were naturally in pantomime, and most folks had little patience for his games. Even Black Sheep, when she'd been in his class, and who had been the most willing to play along every now and again, had had no time for his offerings of pretend flowers.
Hm. Thoughtfully, his face shifted. His eyes slid slyly back towards those jokingly-flaunted hindquarters. He supposed if he thought about it, he wasn't against flirting itself. It could even be entertaining if there was another participant. However, if that other participant also meant his flirting, he would want romantic interest from someone worth his time. Who would get it.
Still in calculating consideration, Mime Bomb swirled his wrist in a motion to pluck one of his pantomime flowers from the air. This seemed like a fair test of character.
Neal faced the younger man as he approached, not knowing what to expect from the silent one at all. His expression was shrewd, almost distrustful. But then he moved the hand shaped like holding a slender object, let his face soften into a content beam as he closed his eyes and brought the hand close, inhaling deeply like there was a sweet aroma, and then offering it out towards the other agent.
Neal didn't miss a beat. His own face brightened. "Oh..! Invisible! My favorite color~!" Gladly, he reached to accept the gift, taking the imaginary flower to his own nose for a whiff before sticking it in a pretend lapel. "Hey; this mean you're warmin' up to me after all?" In any sense, he did like getting along with his fellow evil-doers.
Mime Bomb blinked. Oh. Wow. Someone at V.I.L.E. actually knew how to be fun. His kind of fun. He was stunned all over again, but this time pleasantly so. There hadn't even been a moment of hesitation. Neal was very much able and willing to communicate on his level. Mostly. It hadn't been a perfect conversation over brunch, but the slimy man was still more capable than anyone else Mime Bomb had conversed with.
A lop-sided, coy smile quickly replaced Mime Bomb's blank stare. Ok. This could be a fun game.
Standing tall and gaining a flippant air of his own, he lifted one hand and waggled it in a 'so-so' motion. Then he simply pointed at the discarded rucksack, then the manhole cover, and turned his back on Neal again, tapping away at his phone looking for more mission-relevant information that could help them once they were done here.
"Oo. Cold, mate," Neal accused, but not very bitterly, "But Oi guess where's the fun in playin' easy-to-get, eh?" Obediently, he bent to grab the rucksack and knelt by the manhole cover, pulling out a wrench as he did. "Well, stand back. This looks like a job for some all-natural Neal Brand Lubricant!"
Wrapping one hand around the opposite upper arm, he squeezed and dragged that hand down, causing a gathering of viscous, translucent, blue-green substance to pool and grow at the side of his gloved hand. By the time it had reached his wrist, the gunk had dripped off and drizzled onto the metal covering he aimed to get into.
Dabbing his fingertips into it and using them to apply the substance to the rusty bolts, Neal couldn't resist one more quip. "Multi-purpose, don't ya know~."
Mime Bomb had watched the other gathering this slime in a sort of morbid transfixation. Still not the most appealing of abilities, and yet still so useful. He was torn between appreciating it and being put-off. But he had to wrinkle his nose when the next quip came. No. Just no on that one.
That was just as well. Neal hadn't been his most serious. He just couldn't avoid such an easy crack to make. Merrily, he carried on his task while Mime Bomb scouted out a good boat rental place for their next stop.
...
Casually, while Neal made friendly chatter with the owner of the boat rental establishment, Mime Bomb took a tourist pamphlet from a rack on the small shack's side. Inside was a map of every canal in a good five mile radius. This he scanned to learn how the canals were connected, planning for every potential during the getaway he and his partner would be making by water.
A few minutes later, Neal had an arm raised to get the bereted man's attention as he hailed from the docks, "Mime Bomb! Come on, bruv! Oi got us a good deal on a real beaut!"
It was easy to note an extra notch in familiarity as the New Zealander called out. He really did get cozy quickly, didn't he? Well, this time, Mime didn't complain. Instead, he simply came to the call and inspected the boat himself. Indeed, it was a fine speedboat. He nodded in approval at the color. Poison green. V.I.L.E.'s color.
Hopping in behind the wheel and giving it a few eager turns, the taller man announced, "Captain Ten-Neal, ready and reporting for a full day of sight-seeing fun!" A jaunty nautical salute followed.
This seemed to amuse the old man who owned the boat rental, and though Mime Bomb had nothing against the joke, his face exhibited some concern as he joined the other in the boat, stepped behind his seat and spread the map in front of Neal to remind him of their goal.
"Oi know, Oi know," Neal waved off, "We can still do both, remember? Stop to smell the roses? We can make a day of it. Lotsa canals to see! In fact, if you're so inclined, we could even make a date of it~."
Once more, Mime Bomb was thrown off by the suddenness of such words, but not nearly as much as before. His shoulders only hunched slightly in response. Actually, knowing he couldn't say what he wanted to in front of a civilian, his biggest concern was the man on the dock.
Sparing just a glance to that man, Mime Bomb let a sunny beam come to his face as he bent at the waist, putting his hands on Neal's shoulders, and pressed his cheek into the other man's as he nodded. Then he stuck his arm out straight to order Neal to get them moving.
It was Neal's turn to be thrown off a bit, hardly having expected contact like this, but he wasn't complaining. "Right on!" he perked, and got the boat moving, accelerating eagerly.
It was worth the stumble Mime took as he was forced back with the motion. Catching himself and coming back forward to take the passenger's side seat, his face was hardened as he faced Neal and placed a flat hand over his brow like a visor, then pretending to look around. Next he mimicked popping a collar and tipping a wide hat. Then he simply opened his palms towards Neal and shifted his lips in a pointed silent question.
Neal's brow quirked, puzzling that one out for a second. "Ohhh..!" The flip-flop in Mime's tone had mixed him up. "No worries. Oi told ya. Oi know how ta stay focused. Ol' Red's not gonna catch a thing. Besides. Knowin' her, she's gonna be too busy with her own plan casing that museum. 's why we're movin' faster than planned, remember?"
Knuckle to chin, Mime Bomb recalled both of those points. They were fair, as well. Well, so long as they were still conscious of the potential threat to the mission and continued to keep an eye out, then yeah, alright. Nothing wrong with appreciating some landmarks during their scouting.
Bringing another point up, Neal pouted, "This mean you didn't wanna count this mission as a date, after all?" Seemed like Mime just wanted to be able to discuss their thievery freely.
With another thoughtful pause, Mime Bomb figured he'd given enough positive affirmation already, getting Neal's hopes up. So, pretending he hadn't heard the other, he slipped on a pair of imaginary headphones, touched an invisible Walkman on his hip and began bobbing his head, one finger tapping on his knee as he smiled and turned his head for the passing scenery.
Seeing Mime delight in taking his turn to give his partner a hard time, Neal took his turn to scoff. So that was how it was going to play out, was it? Well, wasn't that...actually quite appealing?
After a mere couple seconds of his pout, Neal's expression relaxed. Mime Bomb's taunting, almost contradictory attitude about not confirming any interest was snugly in the same vein as his own approach. Mime Bomb was actually quite the rascal, wasn't he? So he responded to Neal's quips in kind, and their matching impish streaks meant that if Neal wasn't being outright rebuked, then flirting was going to end up being more of a game both ways. Not to mention, in that case, not outright denying Neal was a very sly, roundabout way of saying the slippery man had a shot.
Didn't that sound even more appealing, then? Someone who could not only take a bit of obnoxious ribbing, but give it back? Quite a stimulating prospect indeed.
...
The first time Neal stopped the boat, it was because the pair had been passing a glass blowing demonstration inside a special display area of a privately-owned shop. Not something either expected to see, but Mime Bomb had put both palms to his cheeks in excitement and pointed repeatedly at the event. Neal had been gawking a bit as well as they approached, so had no trouble agreeing to pulling the boat over.
Once parked, while getting up he leaned towards Mime Bomb and reached for the air around the clown's ear, pulling one half of those imaginary headphones off and teasing, "Think you forgot you were wearin' these, mate. Wanna try askin' so Oi can respond properly next time?"
Mime Bomb's brow went up, not expecting Neal to have retained the supposed headphones. People certainly never made callbacks to his bits. This was a level of investment above and beyond. Still, his face painted annoyance the next second, as it was still being used to mock him.
Collectedly, Mime Bomb smoothly removed his invisible headphones and Walkman, gently setting them on the boat's dashboard before following to climb up onto the curb. He would not give Neal the satisfaction of knowing he'd bothered or impressed him.
Neal had already slid his way through the small crowd, giving the tourists short quips about doing just that and pardoning his residue, and was now watching the woman at a great fiery kiln blow into a lengthy metal pipe with molten glass at one end, rolling it in turn to keep its shape.
Using the widened path formed by tourists who'd been slimed, those onlookers dispersing to inspect and wipe themselves in incredulous disgust, Mime Bomb joined the other V.I.L.E. operative and instantly perked as he observed the roaring flame, eyes trailing down to the still-glowing glass that raw heat had melted. A slight spark entered his eye as he admired the power of it. Entertained the light novelty of what would happen if that glass blower ended up inside that kiln of hers. It took him back to a few instances of covering his tracks in the past. Also the craft presentation was pretty neat.
Thinking similarly of the novelty, Neal spoke up. "Hoo! That's not somethin' you'd expect to see in a water-logged place like this, eh?" He nudged the nearest stranger with his elbow. "Can't imagine baking in this heat all day, though. A toasty temp gets me slick like ya wouldn't believe!" Then his eyes turned towards the woman giving the demonstration and chirped, "Whatchya blowin', then? How'd this end up such a lucrative business for ya? Don't you ever worry about leaks? Might have one already. You've let an eel trickle in~."
A self-appreciative laugh, though no one around him got the joke and most reactions were a mix of confusion and groans. The woman at the kiln looked fatigued, like she'd heard similar rambling inquiries from endless strange-looking visitors who thought they were funny. Rehearsed, she simply began a deadpan run-through of the history of the establishment and the art of glass blowing on the Murano island cluster.
Mime Bomb got the joke, but he felt the crowd covered any appropriate reactions. He was only half-listening as things went on, anyhow, noticing an exposed wallet peeking from the back pocket of a plump man in front of him. With a coy glance around himself, then rather sure Neal had successfully disrupted any wandering eyes for the moment, he swiped. Nothing wrong with tips in a mission. Anything extra you earned was all yours, and pickpocketing was a fun hobby.
Turning and flipping nonchalantly through the pilfered item as though it had always been his, Mime Bomb sensed one set of eyes on him and glanced up. As it turned out, Neal had followed with a few backwards steps of his own just so he could give him a smarmy smirk.
Crossing his arms, the Kiwi man noted quietly, "Getting in the heisting spirit, bruv? Smooth moves. Your fingers may be as slippery as mine~." As a fellow specialist in thievery, of course he'd been able to pick up on the action right next to him. He also found it to have been admirably bold and flawlessly executed. A comment could not be refrained.
At the compliment, Mime Bomb rolled his eyes modestly this time, smiling and flipping his wrist. It was nothing.
Neal's beam widened impishly. "Think Oi can do ya one better, though. Watch this."
Mime's head tilted slightly as Neal took both hands and dragged them up his belly in repetition, gathering a small wad of goo.
Scanning the backs of the crowd they'd fallen behind, Neal didn't have difficulty spotting another man's back pocket leaving his wallet open for pilfering. Too many men did this, really. With a final keen glance towards his compatriot, Neal stole swiftly behind the man and palmed the wallet, letting one finger stay hooked into the pocket as he daintily overturned the other hand, letting that glob of collected goo fall into the gap. Lastly, Neal retreated in a hurry, ushering Mime Bomb out of that showroom with him as he called out, "Egad! What's going on with your pocket, mate? Did you forget to buy a jar with your jam? Is that why you're here?"
Stopping around the corner, he and his cohort both peeked to observe as the man puzzled and reached to feel his pocket, only to get a hand coated with a slippery, unidentifiable substance. The outcry of dismay and the dance he did while trying to remove the slime, even swatting at his own bottom in vain to remove the sodden patch, was highly entertaining.
Looking back to Mime Bomb, Neal prompted, "Eh..? What'd ya think, then? Fun, wasn't it?"
Mime Bomb...had to agree. That had been insult to injury, and disgustingly clever. His hands were both pressed over his mouth as his cheeks puffed, indicating much stifled laughter. So long as it wasn't inconveniencing him, misfortune was very funny. And Neal's experience clearly showed. Maybe that was why he was so breezy. He'd been doing this long enough that he felt safe pulling off his crimes with frivolous frills. Mime could appreciate that. Respect it, even.
Delighted to see his prank met with such positive reception, Neal moved his hands to Mime Bomb's shoulders to steer him away from the scene of the crime. "Knew you'd like it! Oi could just tell we were gonna make a crackerjack team, you and Oi. Same page all the way."
Well, maybe not all the way. Quirking a brow at the way he was pushed, Mime Bomb opened his palms groundward and looked back at the taller man in a silent distasteful question, protesting this method of transport.
Observing the expression with some perplex, Neal questioned back, "Mm? Problem, mate?" He slowed, removing his hands from the other just on instinct.
To illustrate, Mime Bomb puffed one cheek in pout before tapping the back of his beret with the heel of his hand, knocking it forward to look like an old-timey tough guy, marching around to Neal's back and pushing in turn as if asking how he liked it. However, Neal did not actually budge while being shoved. Mime's build was incredibly limber and lanky, but not at all muscular, meanwhile Neal's was tall, slender and with a healthy dash of well-toned muscle.
Neal wasn't dense, though, and took the point. "Oi take it you found me a little too hands-on in our getaway?" he ventured, "Alright, fair enough. How about you go ahead and pick our next hot spot, then? Ohp. Hang on. Lemme give you a foot." Below, he took himself off of the well-tractioned soles of his feet, which were not likely helping Mime Bomb's attempts at moving him, and turned his stance onto the blades of them, instantly sliding forward as the oozing portion of the fabric touched the ground. His arms went out sideways in a whimsical illustration of enjoyment.
Mime Bomb lurched forward at the unexpected motion, stumbling a bit before straightening and correcting his hat as the other hand went to his chest while steadying his breath.
Only sliding a mere couple of feet, Neal tossed a glance over his shoulder and chided with a breezy shrug, "Aw, was that all we're doing? Well, lucky you Oi fancy the wimpy silent type."
This caught Mime Bomb off-guard again, though rather than send him stumbling, it set off a short flutter in his chest. Even in the middle of being difficult, Neal could not miss the opportunity for a minute flirt. Actually, somehow that seemed like the best place to slip a stealthy come-on. It was how Neal had incorporated all of them thus far, and not one had failed to make Mime Bomb take note.
Well, fair played.
Carrying on as he had before as well, Neal simply yarned, "Well, while you're deciding, Oi suppose the real pickpocket winner's whoever got the best loot, am Oi right? Let's see what we got here."
Opening the wallet he'd nabbed, he pawed eagerly through the contents, pleased to see a good number of credit cards, as well as a sizable wad of mixed Italian and American notes. "Oo~, jackpot~!"
Mime Bomb accepted this challenge, brushing off the last few moments and coming to stand by Neal's side with a graceful pivot. He resumed rifling through the bills and assorted junk in the wallet he'd stolen - Why was there a paperclip chain in there? - for a few seconds, then passed the one Neal held a coy, purse-lipped glance as if gauging the Kiwi's investment. Then, deciding to act, he smiled and performed a lunging side-step, miming a large stage hook in his hands that he pretended to hook around the man next to him.
Neal barely had time to give his gaze a curious flick towards Mime's movement before he found a sharp tug at his ankle and himself collapsing painfully on his back. From there he could only groan in stun and watch the wallet that had arced gracefully out of his grip land in Mime Bomb's gloved hand.
Mime Bomb retracted the foot he'd hooked around Neal's ankle during his distracting hook act, tossed that imaginary stage prop away and brought his heels together for a showy bow over the man now sprawled on the pavement, having been tripped up by a smudge of his own slime.
Putting together what had happened, Neal's expression formed a flash of distaste when Mime Bomb stuck his tongue out at him, but then he had to relent with a lop-sided grin. "Cheeky," he granted, pushing himself up on his hands. The redhead over him did not retract as their faces came close. He just crossed his wrists behind his back to prevent Neal from snagging back either wallet. "You are an underhanded imp, aren't ya? Well alright, you've proved your mettle. You're pickpocket supreme. So long as you don't go all cutthroat on me." Seeing Mime's head tilt in slight puzzle, Neal noted, "Don't think Oi didn't catch how you were eyeballing that fire, Mr. Highest Death Toll of His Graduating Class. Oi believe it after that and your little display just now. Impressive. Only Oi won't appreciate it if you end up turning that little spot of bloodlust on me, see? Promise me you were just roughhousin'?"
Ah. Neal was worried Mime Bomb might have actually been sore at him and been lashing out, viewing the pickpocketing spoils as a serious way to assert dominance. Well, it was true Mime Bomb was easily fed up and quite callous towards others, but he most often preferred passive-aggressiveness, especially towards fellow agents. He did get quite a rush when getting the chance to take out a target, but he also wasn't that rash about striking out. He knew when he was out-gunned as well. Plus, even if he liked looking out for himself as number one, he was loyal to V.I.L.E. He doubted he could see himself killing a fellow operative unless he really needed to.
To put Neal's concern at ease, Mime Bomb let a wide, friendly beam reach his closed eyes as he shifted his hands to hold both wallets in one, bringing the other forward to help the slippery man up. His rising enjoyment and willingness to participate in games was genuine.
A more relaxed smile spread on Neal's lips as he accepted the offer and stood. "Good ta know," he perked. Happy to hear the younger man was getting comfortable with him rather than changing his mind, he kept that hand in his as he used it to pull Mime closer, taking a step forward and enjoying the way Mime's eyes widened as he was dipped slightly. "That mean you were thinkin' more along these lines?"
Feeling another, stronger flutter behind his ribs at this physical turn of the tables, Mime Bomb couldn't help but have a fleeting thought that this corny, charmless goofball was actually quite charming because he was that way. However, his own stubbornness and desire to continue butting heads with this man made him simply scrunch up his face and deliver a much more strongly-worded poke of his tongue.
With an amiable laugh, Neal breezed, "Ah, just as well. Was mostly lookin' for this, anyway." Stepping back and letting Mime upright, Neal held up the hand that had been around Mime's back. Now aloft was the wallet the younger man had had initially. "Tradesies~!" the perky man quipped, waggling the wallet playfully, "Don't worry, Oi left ya the other one. Only fair to split tips when you're on a team-up."
Blinking and flexing his empty hand in front of him, Mime glanced at the wallet he still held and then up at Neal's back as the man hailed him to follow and tell them where they were going next already because they were burning daylight. Another smile found the man in makeup. Where he'd been brattishly selfish, Neal was being kindly fair. Neal was...a good guy, wasn't he? Well, for a bad guy. He had fun with his villainy because he loved what he did, but being evil didn't mean you had to be a jerk. And Neal wasn't a jerk.
Entertaining a more complete thought that Neal's snark was charming, in fact pairing quite interestingly with his own, Mime Bomb followed to decide the next stop on the pair's personal tour of Venice.
...
The two villains took in many of the staple watery sights as they cruised their boat around, tracing which canals were closed off for any reason and which ones they should not take in case of pursuit, lest they corner themselves. They saw many impressive church towers, wide waterways with beautiful buildings and bridges, and endless archways. They even made one special stop, at The Bridge of Sighs that connected Doge's Palace to the Prigioni Nuove, a 17th-century prison, and which was the last pathway many a criminal in Italy's history would take before they never saw the sun again, to share a moment mourning their past brethren.
Neither was able to make light of this, Mime Bomb doffing his hat and Neal placing a hand over his heart as they simply shared a sincere moment of silence for the poor souls that had been caught in their misdeeds, and taken one last look out towards where the V.I.L.E. operatives stood, and sighed as they reflected on their fates.
However, this somber moment was the only one of its kind. And though it had fostered a stronger sense of respect between the two operatives, the rest of their sight-seeing only helped their shared appreciation for witty banter grow.
One might have thought witty banter with a mime was impossible, but Neal kept finding a way. The forwardness of his quips only escalated as well.
During a walk down a row of one of Venice's many shop-lined canals, they'd just so happened to be passing a makeup shop, which inspired Neal to ask Mime whether or not he should give it a try, perhaps lipstick, and then ask flirtatiously if he could try on some of Mime's.
This time Mime was prepared when the other man leaned in slightly, and in fact welcomed the shortened distance with a coy quirk of his brow, turn of his head, and a smirk. Then, he'd nodded graciously, closing his eyes and leaning forward a couple inches himself as he puckered up.
Neal had blinked in surprise, expecting a lot more resistance for only his second suggestion of a kiss, but decided he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and shut his own eyes to steal the offer while it lasted.
However, unseen to him, Mime Bomb had reached into his pants pocket, and instead of getting a kiss, Neal found his lips hitting something small, tubular and solid, which wasted no time smearing the entire perimeter of his mouth. Opening his eyes to see this, Neal watched Mime Bomb move a tube of lipstick with an expression of concentration as his tongue poked thoughtfully out the side of his own mouth.
Once done, he'd simply stepped back and given Neal's face a 'Ta-daaa~!' motion with his hands.
Neal touched his face lightly, brow going up as he realized the bait-and-switch, before cracking up. That had been a slick move, he would say! Then he simply rolled along with it, posing glamorously and asking, "Well? Is it me?" He'd asked if he should try it out, so he might as well get the review!
Mime Bomb placed a hand over his mouth in a silent snort. It most certainly did not suit the tall, pale, muscular man, or at the very least bright red was definitely not his color. Mime let one of his cheeks pinch as he offered a vehement thumb down, though some sympathy was still in his half-smile, as well as a heaping dose of mirth.
...
The pair did have to return the boat before day's end, but that was fine. They were going to steal it back by night anyhow, to avoid suspicion. If they committed the crime while they were renting the boat officially, it would have been all-too easy to track back to the source through receipts.
Neal and Mime Bomb simply spent the rest of their time sight-seeing by foot and having another meal at a restaurant with outside seating. Neal was also apparently much more interested in buying grotesquely novelty souvenirs. Mime Bomb couldn't say he was much for tacky tchotchkes, but it was still fun to mock Neal for his taste in oversized sunglasses, cheap bobbly-headed knickknacks and brightly-colored clothing that could not have painted him as more of a tourist in any part of the world.
As the day wound down, there thankfully being no sight of Team Red, and Neal more than happy with his bagged assortment of frivolous purchases with stolen money, the slimy Kiwi hemmed, "This was truly a great load of ticks off the old bucket list. Thanks for joinin' me on the Venice Highlight Reel, Mimey. Really mean that." He got a questioningly quirked brow of disapproval for addressing the other in such a way.
As ever, Neal went on nonplussed. "Glad we got most of the important stuff out of the way. Only real regret is now Oi've booked a hotel room for more nights than expected." A soft chuckle. "Oi mean it's not my bill, but Oi really had hoped to do a bit more while Oi was in Venice." A thoughtful beat followed by an impish smirk sent the other man's way. "Unless of course you wanna make the room a bit more worthwhile, come over and get some use out of it."
Mime Bomb had to stop walking as his brow went up fully now, and the next second his arms had crossed as he gave Neal a highly unimpressed expression that clearly asked if Neal had really just said that. What did the New Zealander take him for? He'd gotten used to the flirting and had great fun doing so in return, the entire day turning into a sharp-witted game of back-and-forth, but this was something he was adamantly not going to nibble at. It wasn't like the idea itself was unappealing, but really? On a first unofficial date? During a mission?
Neal snorted at the huff and rolled his eyes. "Don't get yer tights in a twist, bruv. Business, Oi know. But Oi do need to stop off and drop my things before we head out." He lifted and patted the side of his largest shopping bag.
Dusk was finally upon them, the sun just lowering over the horizon, and it was time to head back to the boat rental and get their plan underway. By the time they got there, it would be fully night.
That Mime Bomb could agree with. However, just to be on the safe side, he opted to remain outside while Neal went into the hotel building, just to discourage any distracting flirt opportunities.
...
On the docks they'd launched from before, Neal and Mime Bomb were just running down the list of everything they needed and preparing to move a large, specially-lined storage crate into the boat they were taking when a voice called out in alarm.
Looking, the two V.I.L.E. agents saw the old man who owned the rental service coming for them, demanding to know what they were doing and yelling that the place was closed. Then he said the line that got Mime Bomb's eyes narrowing and declared he was going to call the police if they didn't leave.
This man wasn't supposed to be here. Did he live in the back of the shack or something? Well, it was unimportant now. Now he was a problem. Finger to his lips, Mime Bomb turned his narrowed eyes towards Neal, other hand waving to signal that Neal should carry on as he stepped back, down off the dock and into the shadows. Mime's shushing hand went to tap his temple, indicating that he had a plan.
So, as the man got closer, he would see only one figure on the dock: Neal, simply standing tall and raising his own hand in the air as a friendly greeting. "Evening, mate! Oi'm sorry, what was that you're saying? Something about being closed? You see, these screwy time zones have got me all mixed up and Oi just really fancied a boat ride, y'know? Me and my...souvenir crate here! Any way we can work that out?"
The man seemed puzzled by this flippant reaction, but regained his composure and reaffirmed that this place was closed and that if Neal didn't leave he was having him arrested for trespassing. Mime Bomb reappeared silently behind the old man's shack, a determined, purse-lipped expression on his face. He nodded once, and Neal smiled, carrying on talking in circles as the man in pancake makeup stepped closer and closer until he was directly behind the rental shop's owner.
The owner had just had a moment of realization, recognizing Neal from his earlier visit, when he was cut off by two arms slipping deftly around his body, pinning his arms at the shoulder, while twin hands in white gloves gripped his face and immediately twisted it.
Suddenly the old man's eyes were instead wide and his throat gurgling as he tried to protest, his windpipe straining under the degree his neck was twisted, each second pressing it even further. Behind him, Mime Bomb's eyes were shining clear with a mix of concentration and excitement, but his face remained hard as he put all of his effort into getting that snapping sound he needed. It was always harder than it looked to break a neck.
Neal stood with bated breath, unsure if he needed to step in. His arms were poised, but it looked like Mime Bomb had things under control. Actually, he looked...pretty scary right then. Cold. Intent. Eager. But also...quite cool. An elite V.I.L.E. agent did what they had to do, and without hesitation, Mime Bomb was proving that he was willing to cross any line to achieve a goal for the organization. Neal could see in that one expression how he had earned his stripes, for lack of a better term.
Then, it happened. The old man's neck broke, and he stopped moving, sinking to collapse on the ground as Mime Bomb let him go. The younger man took a moment to smile down at his hands and let out a cathartic sigh through his nose. Then he glanced up to Neal, who had also relaxed once the shop owner was dead and he'd seen he wasn't needed.
With a half-smirk, Neal tutted, "You are cold...sure that wasn't overkill, though? Get it? 'cause you just killed that guy?"
Mime Bomb shifted his lips sarcastically before leaning forward and raising his arms in an exaggerated position as he tapped an imaginary watch, widening his eyes to accentuate his point.
Neal put his own hands out in a casual motion to calm down. "Yeah, Oi know; time crunch; better to just get him outta the way for sure and not risk him making a call on us; just a tease, mate. You warm the boat up, then. Oi'll call for The Cleaners." Thumbing towards the boat behind him, he crouched to pull his phone from the rucksack they'd been using and dial up V.I.L.E.'s headquarters and request a body be made to disappear.
...
Not long after, the speedboat was quietly petering its way to a halt not far from the museum the villainous pair was set to rob. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation. As Mime Bomb pulled over to let Neal out so he could find the sewer entrance he needed, the shorter man let out a horse-lipped sigh to ready himself for his own role to come.
The boat jostled as Neal let out a startled yelp and stood sharply, turning from the curb he'd been looking towards and whirling to face the noise, pulling out the twin sets of electric brass knuckles he'd been provided as weaponry in the process.
Seeing Mime Bomb giving him a wide-eyed stare and holding his hands up in confused surrender, Neal realized that the sound had come from him and sagged in a bit of sulk. "That was you?" At the nod he received he tossed a casual point at the bereted man. "Thought you weren't supposed to make any sound, mate! Scared the living daylights outta me!"
Mime Bomb quirked his brow, but then sniggered silently and popped his lips a few times as he mimicked shooting his partner with two sets of trigger fingers. Then he mocked Neal's jumpy reaction by biting his bottom lip to imitate Neal's large front teeth and cowering behind his arms.
Neal rolled his eyes. "No, Oi didn't think ya were dangerous. Just thought maybe we had a stowaway...or something. Oi know it's not usin' your voice, but Oi didn't expect it, alright? Pre-heist jitters, let's say." He wasn't actually nervous about committing the crime, or even encountering opposition during the break-in, as he thrived on the thrill of the job, but after being taunted he didn't want to admit Mime Bomb had startled him that bad without even trying to.
Relaxing, Mime Bomb tipped his head in a sympathetic smile. Alright, he'd been mean enough. As a show of good faith, he stood as well and stepped to give Neal a pat on the shoulder.
This did seem to cheer the slippery operative up. He returned the small smile appreciatively and drew himself up with his own breath of preparation to get him back on track. "Right then. Wish me luck."
He'd been about to turn away and hop onto the curb when he felt himself stopped by a sudden double grip to the front of his tech-lined bodysuit. Glancing back, he found Mime Bomb still wearing that lop-sided smile, although glancing downward off to the side with an air of debate and almost bashful hesitation.
Then it seemed the decision was made and Mime Bomb pulled himself forward to press his body flush with Neal's, closing his eyes and giving him a solidly-delivered kiss.
It had been such a weirdly fun day. Neal was difficult, pass-offish, gross, contradictory, cunning, deceptive and incredibly dorky, but he was so fun. He blended so well with Mime Bomb's own difficult traits. He got him. Mime Bomb felt like he could grant Neal one kiss for the good time. Better to get it in now than risk the off-chance something went wrong inside and they had to part ways here, as well.
Neal could say a kiss was about the last thing he'd expected right this second. Hadn't Mime Bomb been mocking him just now? And now he was sending him off, wishing him luck with a kiss. This revelation made Neal's heart pick up faster than the jump he'd had at Mime's lip noises.
Well, once again, why look a gift horse in the mouth? Mime Bomb had gotten him, caught him off-guard. He would just have to relent to that. Instead of questioning why it was happening, Neal let a sigh out through his nose and relaxed into the kiss, enjoying that it was. Letting his own eyes slip shut, he basked in the sweet gesture while he could, appreciating the tranquil lake and the admittedly romantic clear, starry sky with a gorgeous moon to highlight the atmosphere.
Neal had barely gotten to process it and give the kiss back, the entire exchange lasting a mere handful of seconds, when Mime Bomb was already pulling back. Not before one last little spark was created by one gloved hand delivering a playful squeeze to Neal's tightly-clothed, well-rounded behind, however.
Naturally, as soon as his lips were free, Neal had a comment. "Eel-ectric~," he smirked, effectively wiping the fond smile off of Mime Bomb's face. In fact, that one word got a hand shoved in his face to push him away while the other waved a rather pointed 'bye-bye'.
Neal just laughed openly at this fussing, obliging and getting out of the boat with his weapons and the mask he was going to be disguising with in tow.
Though Mime Bomb fumed, his body language still held a distinct tone of amusement. His pushes were not offended ones. More like he was exasperatedly shouting that of course Neal had to ruin the moment! Of course he still had a pun ready in spite of being unprepared! And of course he thought it was hilarious to frustrate Mime Bomb when he was trying to be nice! Genuinely romantic, even!
"Right then!" Neal echoed his earlier intended final comment with a much brighter inflection, "You get yourself in position for pick-up. Oi'll just slip myself in, contact you when Oi've made my grand entrance, and Bob's your uncle~!"
Mime Bomb just mimed a mouth flapping with his hand beside a frumpy face, indicating Neal was yammering. Neal laughed some more at this and saw himself off with a two-fingered salute off his temple and a wink.
Behind his back, Mime Bomb made sure Neal wasn't looking before he smiled fondly again.
...
As it turned out, the heist did not go as smoothly as the last time Neal had encountered Shadow-san. The slimy man had come in to find V.I.L.E.'s ex-ninja seemingly wrapped up in some sort of dramatic discussion with someone Neal had never seen before, so he'd taken it upon himself to just steal the masks while those men and Carmen Sandiego were distracted.
Unfortunately, in the middle of his bold pilfering, Neal had been noticed, a fight had ensued, and Sandiego had used his own element of slipperiness against him with a bottle of olive oil she'd gotten from who knew where. Neal was particularly bitter about that. And his face was sore thanks to being quite rudely introduced to Shadow-san's foot.
It was a good thing Mime Bomb had been so adamant about focusing on a Plan B. Learning those canalways had come in handy too, as a high-speed boat chase ensued. However, things only continued to go pear-shaped as the night-long conflict made way for sunrise. Sandiego managed to pull a bait-and-switch of her own on the villainous duo with the loot, and on top of that, the police ended up finding the culprits as they pieced this together while parked.
Mime Bomb tried to warn Neal about the approaching police officers, but it seemed like Neal was having one of those random moments of failing to communicate. In fact, he was quite dense about the frantic warnings his partner was trying to articulate. Maybe he was flummoxed by the ruse or upset about being duped, but whatever the reason for ignoring Mime Bomb's display, Mime Bomb did not feel like the other was worth going to prison for. He simply sagged, fed up, abandoned Neal and hopped overboard before the police could arrive, and reported the eel man's ensuing capture to the V.I.L.E. staff. If he couldn't figure out an encroaching danger this severe, he deserved getting caught.
However, as his report was given, he did reflect on the notion that, if Neal was released or escaped all of this without getting memory-wiped like the last operative taken in by the authorities, that he wouldn't mind playing the long game with him.