Green Sky At Morning, Neighbor Take Warning

July 20, 2016:

Taskmaster and Harley Quinn round up one of the Orphanage's escaped mutates, Menagerie. (Language warning)

Suburbia somewhere


NPCs: Menagerie



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

"Too much damn sunlight." Taskmaster grunts with an uplifted hand shielding his mask, no optics online right now. No point during daylight hours. "The kid is somewhere down there… " The location? Suburbia. White picket fences, tall bright green trees, happy households and neighbors one and all. The mercenary and his companion-in-arms the Maiden of Mischief, Harley Quinn. "So what were you like before you tossed the Hippocratic Oath out the window and decided to be a total batshit Agent of Chaos and Mayhem with your ex?" The Joker. Everyone knows about the Clown Prince - he is the full tilt darkside of super villainy and gives guys like Task a very bad name a definite Chaotic Evil not just a quasi-Anarchist to Aberrant alignment like the Taskmaster.

The sunlight did not seem to bother Harley, head thrown back while pink and blue ombre'd pig-tails fall down her back, still teasing over the drop-crumple of 'quinned top that mimics the same over her front. Over her shoulder a bat is propped, clutched in hand while upon wooden Loiuisville's surface 'Good Night' is written chaotically.

A stiletto heel of white that leads up to high tops is propped on the roofs edge while they wait and watch, her eyes cracking open only slightly at his query, the flash of blue eyes his direction before the bruisily make-up'd lids close once more.

"Ya really wanna know?" red and black sparkle laden lips crack a small smile in some memories, but dip at the edges at others…

"Blonde…Glasses… Suit-dress.. Tablet, clipboard… Catholic-Jewish family borne and bred. Perfection in every smoothed crease." Nostrils flared asif she could even smell the past…

"I was a psychiatrist seeking to be of repute, and J was my ticket…. A ticket I punched that punched back."

Now when eyes opened she looked down along the streets of suburbia for this 'kid'. Not at Taskmaster.

"So you went from cookie cutting, eager to improve the world clean cut professional to a gleefully amoral, mentally unbalanced casual homicidal maniac. Makes perfect sense. Dude really did a number on you, huh?" A slow scan of the neighborhood and Taskmaster can't help but chuckle, that electronic distortion making the noise sound odd and drawn out.

"Jewish-Catholic, huh? Thats a helluva mix." Crazy isn't something Taskmaster is unaccustomed to working with. He's dealt with some of the worst of the worst and the best of the best more often than not they're all one taco short of a fiesta platter. "This kid we're looking for will stand out. We'll know it when we're there… " Speaking of standing out… a shimmer floods over Taskmaster's form as his image inducer engages from tall warrior in armor with a skull to middle-aged pudgy man in a button up shirt, slacks and brown dress shoes with a comb-over and some bulging glasses. "Heh, Barney Toastmaster… heh… I hate that lunatic." A pause, the chubby cheeks peel back in a smile, "Not you, another lunatic. No offense, toots."

"All my friends are Heathens… Take it slow." A response to his phrasing that she may have once taken offense to. Not anymore, she knows her place. In part. Part of the psychosis, after all.

The bat taps over her shoulder in a rhythm all Harely's but as his image changes with the inducer, the glassy eyed look shifts to ascend and drop, only to focus on the pudgy-cheeked smile. Her own comes with an ease as the bat slides down the slope of shoulder, taking part of the scoop collared shirt with. A twist of wrist and the bat spins, the nose of it just at 'Barney's' chin, all the while she leans in with the unmoving smile and speaks slowly.

"So long as ya don't change underneath," A withdrawal of bat, that end taps her tipped temple. "We good… Toots."

The heel of boot scrapes over the ledge, doing almost a small burlesque dance to the tune in her head. "So… remind me why I am guarding your body? Aside from the obvious doughnut loving slowness?" brow perk and smirk.

"That was a joke. More than likely these fine suburbans will think you're my daughter… or a call girl." A shrug from 'Barney' and his eyes roll from left to right along the road.

"The lot payin' for this are no help, point and expect ya to make magic happen. Coulda made this easier."

A bicyclist in a yellow and blue unitard slows his pace long enough to give Harley a mixed look before speeding up. The disguised Taskmaster ignores him.

"There we are. Near the cul-de-sac, the house with the fence…. gotta be it. That is the only one that makes any sense." As if to emphasis he turns around and motions, a few window curtains slide closed but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary. Just… the burbs.

"Green sky at morning, neighbor take warning."

"It's like the bad part of the Island. They got blankets for blankets over their curtains. Crank it!" While she says that, and they walk, Harley raises the bat overhead and gives it a 'shake', crank… Not crunk.

No matter the bicyclist is given as much disregard as the tumbleweed laden with a kickball rolling along the clean gutter. Bat is lowered and latched at her side, while a couple Bubbly-icious gum wrappers are plucked free of chewy confection and she blows a large bubble.

"So do I call ya Daddy?" And her without her 'Daddy's Little Monster' shirt, none the less the smile that comes from gum and 'stick painted lips is heathenish on its own.

"Birds are creepy, but they watch from above and know evil cuz they bring it on their wings." Harley responds to 'Barney' as they approach the fenced-in yard, her fingers trail over the links and ring out a cadence.

"Let's do this Krispy Creme."

"Lemme think 'bout that." The house with the fences looks unkempt compared to the rest. Taskmaster has seen movies like this, usually its the Metal Band Anti-Social kids house whose parents are drunks or deadbeats. A kid only raised by television. "Home-y. Also do not call me daddy. Too squiggy."

"Cul-de-sacs are creepy dollface, I hate 'em. The people are weird and there is usually only one way out." Another quote of sorts but its also truth.

"Hop the fence go around back, I'm gonna knock on the front door. Just don't get seen either…" To his word Taskmaster opens the front gate while peering around for a dog then waltzes to the front door.


"Anybody home? Name is Barney, I'm with the Electric Company! Helloooo."

"You don't own me." A quick sudden shift to serious at his order for her to go to the back unseen. Up-down of those eyes and then… The smile. A wink and she is gone. From walking down the street and swinging the bat in a circle to just…Gone.

The only sound passing is the light rattle of the fence from somewhere along the line to tell-tale.

Around back, Harley landed in some unkempt bushes, flicking pig-tails back and shaking small branches from her hair while she steps from one batch of bramble to the next in small covert rolls to little acrobatic slinks across the sod.

Fingers sink into something truly squiggy and just as she withdraws with upper lip peeled back her eyes rise to the heated breath of a massive dog meeting her eye to eye.

Unlike small dogs, the beast does not bark, instead greets her with a bellowing growl and the ripple of upper maw. he is a pretty blue/grey with white patches, even one over each eye like clown paint.

… Harley greets the massive canine with a toothy grin of her own while the dog shit is wiped from fingers into mud…

"Huh?" The merc hadn't even realized he'd been bossy it's just how he is but when seh says you don't own me with a serious edge he just has to chuckle again in that strange metal grating noise.

The knocking is achieving nothing and Taskmaster's patience are at an end. "Alright, kiddo. I know you're here. Let Uncle Tasky in…"
A rustle sound can be heard from inside the house and within seconds the wall is bursting open between dog run and the neighbors yard.

"I won't go back!"
A visual of the teenager whose voice that belongs to is on the side of bizarre, some might even find it disturbing, a slender built naturally he has a head of cheetah-spotted and colored hair, whiskers, a horn and one leg is clearly a hoof. A slender reptilian tail extends out behind him and a pair of feathery wings circle protectively about his body to shield him from the walls debris and now a fence.
"Non lethal, partner!" Taskmaster shouts the disguise dropping away as he draws his bow and takes aim.

Nose to nose with a massive Great Dane the draw back of lips from both i a mirror of disaster. The dog in protective agression, Harley in insanity and for the Elvira-esque love of animals. The third floor of her apartment building is proof enough.

"PUPPY!" The yell is enough to confuse the canine for a moment, especially when she latches a hug around the thick neck and wrestles the four legger to the ground in a flail of limbs and a series of angered barks, growls….and a whimper.

The wall of the house bursts out above her head in a showering rain of wood, drywall, and shattered glass. Wings or no, there is the sound of feet across unkept sod, the kick of a few empty soda cans that roll away and that bat is drawn to swing down upon their target.

Non lethal? Broken bird-bones of wings okay? "Just clippin' his wings!"

"Clip away." Taskmaster mumbles not that she will hear it. The kids powers are unique and it looks like hes improved on them a bit, would explain some of the reports of missing zoo animals. He absorbs animals and takes on their traits but can also forcibly eject those creatures from his body, they're at that point permanently linked to him and he has some level of control over them. Dangerous if applied with some intelligence. This youth works more off instinct fortunately.

Arrow is loosed and sails high only to land with a thump and a scream of pain that goes half gorilla roar as it embeds itself in Menagerie's left leg.
"Why won't you just leave me alone!?" Menagerie manages through snarls as he pulls the arrow out. "I wasn't hurting anyone I just want to be left alone."
"Unfortunately for you kiddo you're considered government property. There is no left alone for the rest of your… " That is kind of sad to think about Taskmaster can't help but get a slight pang in the feels. "Just hold still and we'll make this a painless delivery."

Swing, batta' batta! One thump, and the follow through for the second is about to come out as Menagerie pauses with impact of arrow… And then Harley sees him.

"He's a mutated platypii personface!!" The bat hits the ground behind her with a clatter and she literally clings in a hug to Menagerie.

Almost cartoonish as she shows him the I'm gonna love you and squeeze you, and cuddle you, pet you, stroke you… Name you George! But what she is doing in her embrace of pets and hugs…. Can be seen. Legs twined around Menagerie's middle clench at the thighs just beneath his ribcage, the embrace of arms around his neck hold him close as red and black *smecks!* riddle over temple, brow, and cheeks.

Constricting him, rapidly, and if he does not push her off, his ability to breathe is about to be nil.

"What the hell, man? You shot me in the knee?"

Menagerie looks like hes about to go werekid when Harley Quinn springs from his right and is soon latched on clutching him. "A clown! A FUCKING CLOWN!" A squeal erk sound escapes Menagerie as Harley clutches to him in the worst hug ever. His feelings can't even be hurt right now by being called a platypus as he is too busy struggling for air. He is incredibly strong but also panicking and caught off guard. Clown phobia? Maybe.

Strolling over Taskmaster kneels down over the odd violent cuddle and taps a gloved fingertip to Menagerie's forehead, "No more adventuring for you? She made this easy. I was going to shoot you a few more times." There is that pang again! The kid is crying. It almost makes him wanna reconsider but the amount of Benjamin's he gets paid by the guys who run this Orphanage is pretty sizable and they're good clients. Even when the Justice League roughed him up and Wonder Woman broke his arm; they took care of that.
"Please, Mr. Taskmaster… you can tell them I died or…"
"Sorry kid. Not the movies. At least you got to get to first base with Harley here? Thats some bragging rights back at the playpen right?"
"Fuck you. You're a tool."
"There we go! NOW I remember why I hate teenagers!"

Shield rim bounces off of Menagerie's skull and he goes limp.
"Okay Harley, you can stop crushing the kid or he's gonna die."
A web-like net is fired in to the unconscious kids body and he is hoisted up behind Taskmaster and drug off towards the street, a mic being queued up, "Hey, Doc, package is ready get your guys from the end of the block down here to pick him up. Doubt the neighbors here will put up much of a fuss… he made it smell like burnt cat around here. It's disgusting."

Within the next fifteen minutes nondescript vans will be hauling the mutate back to a hidden facility and the Taskmaster's piggy bank gets a tad more hefty.

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