Worst Neighbors Ever

June 14, 2016:

Taskmaster meets Harley Quinn's "tenants" … sort of

Coney Island


NPCs: Big Tom, Goat Guy (can't remember name of), Bud and Lou



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Muggy day, overcast and on the side of ugly, maybe a step away from it. One good breeze and the weather could go either way, hideous to sunny. Though, one would suppose that is all relative on whether one would consider that bad or good.

Taskmaster releases a grunt, the electronic distortion of his mask's filters making the noise sound inhuman, "So, it just launches garbage? What is the point? Seriously…" The motley freakshow he has been introduced to as Harley's tenants are about as nuts as she is. A lazy man goat and a little person with an attitude? It's bizarre and they're almost as crazy as their former Gothamite landlady.
"That is all it does." Responds Big Tony the mesh and black clad short man.
"But why?"
"For shits and giggles, I dunno, man. Give it a shot."
"If I am going to draw attention to myself it is going to be for better reasons than flinging piles of trash at New York. I stand out enough as it is right now." Image Inducer on the fritz and his repair ladies and guys are all unreachable so he stands out looking like an urban warrior in full UDON gear.

Speaking of landlady… The door to the roof opens with a sudden clatter of hip tossed into the metal, a large black garbage bag drug behind her, more like pulled with the strain of bent position as the thrice bagged mess is grinding its way over the smooth rooftop. Stilletto boots likely do nothing to help her in the anchor needed to haul the large mass of waste. Literally.

"Awe c'mon Skully! Tell me ya never wanted to leave flaming bags of 'Little Helpers' gifts on front porches!?" Or roofs???? or lawns, or… That's going to leave a mess…

Little Helper? That's more plural, as Harley has taken to rescuing animals in need and…Keeping them. There's a whole level of the building dedicated to them. It was cleaning night, and after a shower and change she was hauling it all out for the shit-flinging fest of the most literal proportions!

Sequined shorts of red and blue-black are held in place by her belt, the mallet looped through but braced also along her back, as it is a compensator for her complete lack-thereof. The matching bikini top bears diamond patters of mismatched coloration, tied in one loop around neck another around her torso to hold it in place.

With a 'Hi-ya!' for added oomf though, Harley is slinging that immense bag up and over and onto the catapult.

"Dooo iiittt! I'll even let you touch my mallet." Brow waggle.

Big Tony just grunts.

"Worst neighbors ever." Taskmaster states while folding his arms over his chest. He is grinning beyond the toothy permanent grin of the face mask.
"Pass, the drycleaning bill for this badass get up is insane." A curious study of Big Tony and Taskmaster can't help but be curious what the story is here, how did one of Gotham's most notorious villains end up playing house with a retired circus act like this. Maybe there is a mellow side to the flamboyant lady lunatic he has yet to see.
"I imagine the property value has gone down around here since you lot moved in."

"Awe! You don't like getting dirty?" A pause and the smile open lips grows with a brief up-down of Taskmaster and a click of tongue behind flashing teeth in the ever growing grin.

"A shame. My mallet is smooth." And as she says that she reaches up and over her back, gripping the handle while the other hand reaches to the clasp at her back, freeing the massive overkill hammer to sweep up and over her head and slam down on the trigger.

"FORE!" Nope, wrong game, but no matter the release mechanism sounds with a loud *TWANG!* and the massive black garbage bag of animal waste is launched up and over Coney after a kick of foot puts the aim out over the upper-crust condos.

Somewhere over yonder many a lush lawn just got fertilized.

"Property what?" A shifty eye'd glance of those baby blues to Tony and Harley shrugs with a small bounce to her step as she twirls on toes and re-holsters her mallet. "I just write the checks and we all stay put."

"Imagine not for long." Taskmaster mumbles while walking over to stand on the edge of the apartment, watching the ascend and descend of disgusting refuse. "Getting dirty and getting dirty are two very separate things. I have no issue with one of those."
"This is what you do? I had assumed maybe your… unique nature was just on the job but you're full tilt aren't you?" He inquires of Harley with another of those unreadable stares from that masked visage. Hes been sizing her up since they got in to communication, shes a wildcard, incredibly strong, almost superhumanly fast and with a violent skillset that makes her perfect for his plans. But… shes an awful lot like someone he just can't tolerate most days… a lot more attractive but the likeness is uncanny.

Harley just stands tall, her hand veiling her eyes despite the overcast to watch the shit-show descend and when it lands she jumps and squees like a cheerleader, normally a motion that would send pigtails bouncing, but her hair was down at the moment in that multi-huen ombre of blonde, red and blue.

"Wait, what?" A slow blink and Harley is tilting her head at Taskmaster, rocking back to jut a hip to the side and cross her arms over her chest as the glee seems to fade and she is assessing him like a new head cropped off his shoulders.

"Look Mistah, I don't take life too seriously all the time. My mallet ain't up my ass for a reason." Stepping closer her finger pokes into his armored chest…and her neck is back so she can glare up at him.

"And no, they ain't two separate things all the time." A *thunk* as she flicks his chest and smirks. "What's it matter to ya anyway what I am. I'm effective and full tilt."

"It matters because I have a reputation. I'm a professional." Taskmaster's head cants down enough he can stare her eye to eye, the glowing yellow optics of his mask settle on her face. "And I'm recruiting. I have been considering you as one of my first line. I need badasses."

"I suppose some measure of psychotic is expected and required for the job…" Compromising! "Just you though, not any of… these." A gloved thumb flicks off towards Goatboy and Notsobig Tony.

"Watch where ya point that thing." Harley says to the thum-off Task gives Tiny and Goatbutt. There it is, that flash in her eyes ringed in her token colors with permanence. She liked them. Liked them, and they weren't on the market for what she has seen Taskmaster do, or herself for that matter. She just covered their ass(ets).

"I've seen what you can do with it." A slight rock back as she meets the golden glow eye to eye and twirls a strand of that pink tipped hair between fingers with a small smile. "It ain't everyone's style."

Though a glance to Tony and Goat and they start looking busy among themselves, waiting to be asked to leave if need be.

"So lay it on me big-boy. What ya recruiting for?" And with a small hop-skip-jump she is perching that ass on the ledge of the building, feet kicking lazily.

"It? Oh, right." Taskmaster inspects his own thumb then instantly dismisses his confusion, she means the extra lethal combat badassery of course, it is kind of what he does. "Your baggage is safe."
Walking over to sit beside her on the ledge that overlooks this side of Coney Island he shrugs, "No official name to it really. Normally I train these chumps and they work for me, couple months back I tangled with the Justice League and my arm was broken by Wonder Woman, they thrashed my guys pretty good. Showed me I need some more help, better help, real hardcases… plus well, I have several employers who it will benefit it me greatly to up my game and since I'm not about to put cybernetics in me and go all Terminator or try to drink any radioactive waste to get super powers… it's best I find new toys and new pals…. "
He pauses, "I rambled a moment, got lost in my thoughts and goddamn how do you do anything here with all this noise and chaos?" The yelling and cheering behind them as more garbage is fired plus well there is barking coming from inside, lots and lots of barking. He imagines somewhere there is a large kennel of dogs.
Why? Seriously why? Once again likely best not to ask. Don't attempt to make sense of Chaos Agents.

As those behind them get wrapped up in their own retribution via garbage showers to the masses, Harley's smile goes from that flash of teeth and stretch of mirth to a thing more calm and resolute, even as he talks and mentions who he tangled with. That alone causes a bark of laughter, more like a cackle with a slap of knee and a shake of her head.

"And here ya sit. You go up against the Goody Goonies," (TM) Harley even makes the small trademark symbol with her finger. "Come out only with an arm broken and want to recruit? And I'm the crazy?"

Suddenly the laughter stops and she is staring at Taskmaster with a sober expression hardly ever met.

"Let's get this straight. They ain't my baggage, they're MY friends," Though when she first got the place it may have been different. Not now. "Did you get anything on them so we can hit back?"

The noise in the backdrop does not even seem to phase her, unnoticed until Taskmaster says something and slowly she tilts her head as if she really has to listen hard to hear it all. A finger goes up and.. "QUIET!"

Silence and stares.

"We're having a moment here!" A slow stroke of Taskmaster's arm and the group heckles with their gags before they go inside, the animals…still silent.

"So, you had me at -toys-."

"It's what I do. What did I learn? Individually they're monsters but as a team? Trash. If I can get a good tight group of maniacs, we'll be untouchable, no DEO stormtroopers, no Justice League, no X-Men can take us out." X-Men Taskmaster only tangled with on one or two occassions, his impressions of them are not high but at the same time, they're another force to be reckoned with, he'll have to gather more intel on that one at another date. Once hes not feeling so tender. One team at a time here.
"Heh, this your idea of a moment?" A robotic sounding chuckle, "I'm spitballing at the moment but I got a list of jobs and a list of openings, so, you want to make some fast cash?"

The more Taskmaster talks the more Harley smiles, the swinging kick of legs stops and slowly she leans his way, especially after he inquires about the 'moment'. Looking up at him again her hands clasp beneath her chin and long lashes bat. "I never thought you'd ask!" And in a flash she is up and gripping his masked head, SMECKing it right on the skully toothed lips and nuzzling cheek to cheek. But as endearing as the moment looks her words are low and there's that tone that belies the expression.

"Let's begin then. But my bills, they gotta be paid." Reaching behind her and pulling a piece of paper from her back pocket (yeah there's one there somewhere in those itty bitty shorts), she unfolds a piece of paper that has scribble all over it and obviously in someone elses writing the monthly amount in sharpie.

"That keeps this place going." Pause. "Can my babies come?"

"Your what?" The SMECKing gets an arm flail off to the side and Taskmaster wobbles on the ledge of the building but thanks to great natural ability and stolen balance he rights himself only to climb upright, "Your babies? Do I want to know?"

A sharp whistle comes from between lips and that door to the rooftop just sits open and silent until one followed by the next two bulky bodies come through, hunched shoulders, massive chests and front legs, dipping down into the lower body along rigid hackles where permanently risen spires of dark hair rail from between muscular shoulders to the tufted tails. Straight out of D&D they looked like striped and spotted wargs, and likely easily mistaken if you have never seen two full grown hyena's before.

For a moment they stood there, watching Harley and Taskmaster from black fur ringed eyes of gold, utterly still except for the small shift of nostrils and upper lips in a quiver.

"BABIES!" And Harley opens her arms wide, the two massive African beasts run at her and leap up to lap at her face with open jaws large enough to wrap around her head. "Bud, Lou. Meet Tasky. He's a dick, but a good one. We like him!"

One things calm they sit and watch and Harley looks at Taskmaster with an expectant glee of a child getting a candy.
A moment of surprise goes through Taskmaster as his fingers unlatch a holster. He halts and catches himself, "Hyenas? I suppose that is better than the alternative." Keeping his distance he speaks on, "I'm sure we can find some use for them. I don't know quite what yet but it'll come to me, like most things." Knack for just going off cuff. "Can uh, they go back in now?" Apparently they make the mercenary uneasy.

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