Baring Gifts

November 15, 2016:

Morgana le Fey seeks out Taskmaster.


NPCs: Constrictor



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

She knew him now. Knew the 'feel' of him… the 'taste' of his energy. This would make him easy to see in her mirror. Easy to find. To track. To keep tabs on. For now, however, Morgana's reasons for pinpointing Taskmaster were more business oriented.

Once he's found, it's a very easy thing to gather what she needed to deliver to him, shift her appearance, and teleport to the vicinity he's in. Never directly to him.

The flavor of the afternoon? A slender, pretty little redhead eith a deep purple streak in her hair, black leather pants and a corset like top. Not a wholely uncomfortable outfit for the Sorceress. At her side walks a white and black cat and on her shoulder is a long-strapped black purse.

Now, to find the boy.

A dive, but not just any dive this is the DIVE of all dives, the super villain clubhouse for scoundrels. This particular bar in New York is entry only on two things, who you know and how you look. The metal window slides open to display a set of goggles, they look once at Morgana then open, allowing for entry in to a smoke filled semi-crowded pub crammed wall to wall with the most grisly looking individuals this side of the Bronx.
A pool table is where she can see Taskmaster, opposite him is a man in a green and yellow costume.

That bouncer looks Morgana over once, not touching her oddly respectful enough but making sure no weapons are present, once his satisfaction is dvident he grins a misshapen display of teeth and motions forth, "Go on. It's ladies night, you show your tits you get free drinks for the night." Yeah, he said that. The arrangement of bras hanging off the wall says this happens just about every sunday if not more.
NO mind is paid to the woman beyond the bouncer at first. Taskmaster himself is spinning a pool stick, that skull faced mask still worn but this time, it's cloth not a hard composite plastic, something he knew he could lift and take a drink around. This is after all the Bar with No Name.
Keenly aware of being checked out, Morgana smirks. She's used to it. It also doesn't surprise her that she's admited entrance. Any search for weapons will produce… nothing. They're hidden in that bag, in a magical hole, until she needs them. And they aren't for her anyhow. Such things are too barbaric for Morgana.

The comment causes the Lady to roll her eyes, the smile obviously forced and tight. So many humans… She could bring them all to their knees with a few simple words. The urge is repressed. Barely.

Piercing green eyes scan the room until she finds her target. Without preamble or hesitation, she makes her way over to the man and hops up on the edge of the pool table. "We really should discuss where you spend your free time." The cat that followed her in tries to twine about his legs.

Taskmaster draws back the pool stick from his next shot and stares at the set of legs that just appeared followed by a cat, the cat is given a brush of a hand. He isn't a cat person. Making it take it's distance from him, "You're in my way lady." He clearly doesn't recognize her yet. "Not that I usually mind a good piece of eye candy but I have a bet going here… "
"Yeah, you can come sit over here." The green and yellow costumed man pats his knee before taking a heavy chug out of his own mug.
"Where is Diamondback?" Taskmaster fires back at the other man, the white ball on the table is then struck, it doesnt hit the set up square of balls but instead bounces off the ceiling hits the edge of the table and them slams them, knocking all but two in to the holes of the table with series of cracks. "DAMNIT!" The mercenary shouts.
"I told you he didn't make that shot, it was bullshit and you just copied bullshit. Pay up."
A muttering sound can be heard under the mask and Taskmaster studies the woman in front of him, trying his best to ignore the other man, "Huh, I know you right?"

Morgana arches a brow. "Careful brushing off strays… They may surprise you." She trills at the cat who hops up into her lap and starts to purr as she pets it.

She makes no attempt to move. Instead, she settles in more, eyes flucking to the other man. Her smilenis all too sweet. "My dear… Unless you're a God or stronger than I am, your pursuit is pointless. Be a good boy and run along now."

Does she know who he is? No. Does she care? Not in the slightest. Until he says domething of interest. "Copied?" She turns her attention back on Taskmaster and smirks. "We've met, yes."
Constrictor in the green and yellow just laughs at Morgana, "Mouth on this one, definitely not here for me."
"Like I said, where is Diamondback?" A warning of sorts from Taskmaster, Diamondback is one of his students, Constrictor is just a battle buddy. "Yeah, copy, as in… "
"He can mimic anything he sees because hes the Taskmaster." A thickly muscled waitress says, for a woman she is built, square shouldered with bright pink short hair. Not unattractive just very sturdy. "A drink? And friendly warning if you're here turning tricks, make sure you get licensed up front first, sugar." The woman doesn't appear to mind the cat. Unlike Taskmaster.
"That threat is familiar enough, meet my newest client Frank. She's royalty."
“Maggie, get us more jack if you would."

Green eyes flick to the woman and a brow arches slowly. "Can he now?" She won't even dignify the suggestion of her being a hooker with a remark. Instead, she turns her attention back on Taskmaster. "Tsk tsk. You've been keeping secrets…" The cat jumps from Morgana's lap which allows the woman to slide from the pool table and saunter over to Taskmaster. "Shall I reset your balls?" Pause. Beat. "I'd hate to be the reason you lost your wager." She's a b… erm… witch, yes. Ahem.
Constrictor nods, "Okay point taken. I'll be seeing you, Taskmaster." The other villain departs casually leaving the skull faced man to stare at Morgana, "Game is over but you can rerack, sure." The play on words not missed but hes not going to fall in to it too easily, she's just as like like to turn adder on him. "It is no secret, Google me… or, wait, thats right, you still live in the Dark Ages." His eyes follow her from behind that mask, "Whats with the look and the visit? This ain't no place for just anybody."

Morgana shrugs. "Necessary at times. And I come baring gifts," is answered easily. The pool table is ignored.

"Why do you people insist on calling it that? There was nothing datk about it until the end of the Old Ways began…"

She waves a hand dismissively. "None of this matters. Believe me, this is not my establishment of choice so if we could simply finish this.. They don't seem to want weapons, however, so those you'll have to fetch later. We can discuss your… interesting gift when you do."
A tip of his head on indication to the direction he is headed, the backrooms, VIP section for private parties and conversations that could mean business. It costs a pretty penny to even rent one of these, even in this joint. They are completely sound proofed, last Taskmaster knew a guild of experts and specialists who are all about secrecy have a sort of union formed, it keeps them in business and himself.
Walking away from the table he drops the stick on another and moves from the ugly part of the Bar to the privacy chambers, which are inside circular, cushioned booths that look like they could be for relaxation, business or even pleasure. For some all of the above.
Sitting down in one of the benches Taskmaster kicks his boot up on top of the other knee, "Go ahead, what gifts? Weapons I am not concerned about. Honestly, lady, Morgana, " A chuckle at her name, he is still amused at who exactly she is, it is storybook worthy. "You point. I kill. My gifts help get that job done."
To be continued…

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