Task Force X: The Undying Tiger

May 21, 2017:

The Suicide Squad is dumped in the Himalayas to retrieve a package for Amanda Waller from a local Pashmani warlord.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

Pashman, South Asia
A small country located near the Himalayan Mountains.

Roughly 22 hours in flight aboard the Tube (a re-purposed quasi-stealth transport used by Task Force X). It is large enough inside to give them a crew room, pilots space, bathroom and the Sheba which is currently docked up and ready for mobilization. Not that it will be dropping with them on any chutes. This is all the Squad and nothing more.

The rough cold air above Pashman shakes the Tube in a relentless barrage of gusts. They are very high up, very high.

"I hope none of you are afraid of heights." Taskmaster's grinning mask chortles through distortion provided by his mask. The portals along the airplane's sides show nothing but snowy weather, you cannot see further than a foot beyond. Extreme cold weather survival gear has been prepared.

"We drop in less than 5!" Shouts the co-pilot from the rattling front. "Don't worry, we're not going in super low but low enough some of you may have never made a jump like this before… be careful and don't die! The locals won't be able to see you coming down so I doubt any of you will be shot at." That co-pilot then shuts the door, leaving them to sit there counting down.

Taskmaster glances at the watch on the inside of his wrist, "If we get too far apart in this weather we're likely lost. Dude didn't mention that."

Power armour on, primed, and ready, complete with helmet — mostly for its breathing and environmental protection features, Alex doublechecks her gear and straps. "So, don't get too far apart," she suggests dryly, giving Taskmaster a look that's likely missed, given the N7-style faceplate on her helmet. Moving towards the launch point, she glances toward the now closed cockpit door, and shakes her head slightly while waiting for the signal to jump. The green light pops on and she shoulders the jump door open before launching herself almost (but not really) carelessly into the storm.

Lady Mastermind hasn't been this quiet before an operation in a while. Where she would normally be chattering away in her ever-present manner of testing boundaries or laughing about the nerves of others, she's been silent for over an hour. Rare. Her hair is gathered back in a ponytail, tucked into the fur lining of her white parka, strapped with combat webbing, parachute, continuously bouncing leg, lips skewed to one side in a long, thoughtful chew.

Lady Mastermind, in a word, is nervous.

Her blue eyes snap up, bobbing from face to face, scrutinizing every detail she can of the members of Task Force X as she stands and considers -who- packed her chute.

"I'm not saying what I'm not saying…" Lady Mastermind sighs and tugs a pair of goggles over her eyes. "…but if I were saying it, I would be saying that if I have any issues with this jump, and if the boss ordered me to kill one of you someday, then I'd pretty much remember you being cool today." Regan secures the crash helmet to the top of her head, lashing it into place. "Not that I'm saying that. If you know what I mean."

Harley Quinn waits inpatiently, bouncing about like a kindergartener waiting to go to their first day of school. She seems far too eager for this to be afraid, so either she is fearless or absolutely terrified. It's hard to tell, since she would behave the same way, no matter which. She jumps and wriggles, her cold weather gear very reminiscent of her original outfit. "Can't we just jump now and hope for the best?"
Deathstroke has been in his seat since the plane made lift off, his head resting back against the fuselage seemingly asleep for the entire 22 hour flight, his helmet rolling gently side to side in the heavy turbulence. He couldn't look more at home if he'd brought a pillow and a nice soft comforter. His armor is sans the cold gear the other's carry, though he's given a small amount of away to the local, trading in his usual orange and black for a new paint job that's more shades of soft burnt umber and feather grays.

It does little to soften his overall demeanor.

At the bark of the pilot, he sits up and rolls his shoulders in a bit of a stretch before beginning a thorough check of his gear, every firearm and it's accompanying mags are double checked, charging handles charged, slides racked, grenades counted, blades loosened in their sheaths, and his lance's powercells given a glance. He doesn't say anything at first, but Task's statement causing him to give the mercenary the eye, "Then meet up at the old LZ." he says, as if that made any sense at all. He stands and follows after Alex as she heads to the back, looming over her as the door opens. He's a half second behind her on the jump, joining their 'fearless leader' into the whipping snow and open air.

June is feeling horribly, tremendously out of place. Parachuting is going to be a new experience. She's in a basic black bodysuit which is also a new experience too. She watches the others throw themselves out of a perfectly good plane, and only then does she swallow hard and then do the same, whipping out into the cold air.

"I think our leader has something to prove. " Taskmaster remarks as Alex pushes the jump just a little early, not too much. It won't hurt them as long as they don't land in an occupied village or near one. The idea here is to avoid the locals, find their guide and retrieve a package. In short order. The locals are a torn people and have been since the 1800s, originally Pashman was a British colony, one of the first used to invade India the natives known as the Pasha or Pashmani have suffered a long economic downfall since the 1950s and since has become a puppet country for larger ones who use it for strategic location or simply to strip resources, the United States itself is a country invested in Pashman. With an absolute lack of any sort of international voice, no representatives in the United Nations or major trade relations drug trafficking is very important. Drugs and civil war is not why this incarnation of Task Force X is here now, however.

"Old LZ is closer to Bhutan than we are from here… we're still… " Taskmaster tries to remember and gives, standing up he motions Harley and Regan out after Deathstroke and Agent Danvers, "C'mon ladies, we wait too long we'll really be separated and Agent Danvers will get to claim she has bigger balls than all y'all." the bundle of cloth that is Rose is also prodded just to make sure shes alive still and ready for lift off. Maybe like her father she slept the whole trip. Who knows with the Wilsons.
Taskmaster looks like he always does in ultra modern UDON style, only its in whites and greys, camouflage colorations and fur outlining. He remembers enough to know this country gets cold this time of year, too cold, and if they're trekking up the Himalayan Mountains theyll need all the protection they can get.

"Oh look Moone is off! Got to love her spunk!" Then he is off as well dropping towards the earth through the winds in a fearless falcon dive. Lucky for them they'll be alerted by their packs attached tech of impending Terra firma.

"Oh, you know I got the biggest balls of them all, Taskie! And if ya ask nice, I'll even let ya play with 'em!" says Harley with a wink. As the others make for the jump, she runs out of the plane and performs a swan dive, squealing like a giddy schoolgirl. "Geronimo!"

Harley waits until the last possible minute to pull her chute before doing so, maybe even going a bit beyond that. Yes, it means her landing is gonna hurt, but…. well, it seems Harley likes to be reminded that she is still alive by the liberal use of pain.

As she plummets through the frigid air, Alex's in-helmet HUD counts off the same numbers as the chute monitors. At the appropriate time, she tugs the ripcord and grabs the straps that billow out, the 'chute arresting her fall to something a little less lethal. She triggers an uplink to a Taskforce co-opted satellite, marking the progress of the others and the coordinates of the target LZ. Her feet eventually touch the ground, armour absorbing excess impact as she tumblelands, releases the chute, and rolls to her feet in pretty much one neat, practiced sequence. Then, she's watching for the others.

"No, we can't have nice things. Instead we've gotta jump out and planes and-" Regan tugs at the silenced, rail-modified H&K SMG strapped to her chest and growls her way to the edge of the plane's ramp. She doesn't look down, instead, Regan simply jumps with a frown, diving out after the others. "-see you all on the downside."

Regan flies down, and at the point of entry, her comm-line fills with grunts and panicked sounds, as all but Alex, or those with the ability to see past psi-powers (cybernetic eyes and the like) pay witness to a panicking Lady Mastermind failing to open her chute and exploding against the ground in a sea of blood.

But, truly, Lady Mastermind's chute opens with no issue and she coasts the rest of the way to the ground with a smirk. She rolls into her landing and gathers up her chute, clipping it off and stowing it in a pile.

Deathstroke whips past Alex as her chute unfurls, his arms and legs spread wide to catch the air and turning just so to adjust his falling flight. Only a few hundred feet from the snowy earth, he whips into an upright position and decelerates rapidly, a pair of short but wide metalic wing like extensions snapping out from the sides of the back of his armor. His fall becomes a high speed glide along the ground, whipping up small short lived snow-nados in his wake. As the speed is eaten away, he pulls his legs forward and the wings snap back into place, letting him land with an almost silent crunch of snow beneath his boots. His rifle is against his shoulder before his boots hit snow and he's taken up a crouching possition, sweeping the landscape with the weapon's barrel, <Comm-check> he subvocals into his own built in communications, <How many of you died?> He almost sounds hopeful.
Harley Quinn, not immune to Lady Mastermind's psychic powers, watches in horror as Regan splatters in a bloody mess in the snow. "Reggie!!! Nooooo! Ah hell!" Her own landing is perhaps a little less elegant , unbuckling her gear and trying to run through the snow to get to where she saw her "friend's" body spread out among the white. She cusses up a storm until she gets to the location where she could have sworn she saw Regan die, looking around confused.

She frowns then and looks up at the sky, cocking one hip out to the side. "Not funny, Reggie. Well, maybe a little funny."

I got from my Daddy..!

The nudge to the pile of white gets a delayed reaction, one that comes once they have all jumped already, a booted foot planting outside, black on black….
Traced with orange in lining up like a Tron suit, but where lines part to splay over curved musculature - between - is that scale maille to cover vitals. The bandanna of orange and white yin-yang is adjusted with the frayed edges of white razored hair hanging from the edges to barely sweep shoulders now in length.

… My PaPa was a Superman!!!

Overslept…

"Fuck me running…" A smear of palm in that adjustment as the rig of weaponry aligned down spinal column is shrugged into fully with a draw back of arms like pulling on a trench coat but lined in metal.

Racing for the exit as the door to the aircraft mechanically begins to close, Ravager grips a parachute in passing and has…. 1000+ feet to get it on and functional….

How you like me now??!

A swan dive exit springs her off the door and she is plummeting….
Like a stone…
That has flailing limbs and tucks into a ball as she wrestles with the straps and levers…

"I fucking hate you ALL!!" Atmosphere/visual broken and suddenly the chute opens….
Lifts!
Takes some impact off the landing….

TUCK AND ROLL!!
The Suicide Squad touches down one by one in a windswept valley covered in snow, Himalayan mountains surrounding them and no sign of civilization anywhere. Pashman itself is separated in to two distinct regions, they have landed in the Kapir Yach Valley. A relative no man's land but close to their target destination or as close as they can make it. They have a climb ahead of them.

Taskmaster himself is no stranger to entry of this manner, brushing snow off himself he doesn't respond to the comcheck verbally instead he clicks a button with several taps. All that is needed. He stupidly got conned in to Regan's illusion as well and is en route to check on her broken corpse.

For as far as the eye can see they have snow, snow and mountains. It is frigid, unfriendly and the EyeSpy drone that plops in to the snow near Alex Danvers takes several seconds to power up fully and establish connection to the Task Force X satlink. It chirps once then slowly starts to levitate up on it's microthrusters. Nothing more than a floating droid with video-audio capabilities - state of the art at least. It will lead the way where their GPS won't. It will also remain close to Agent Danvers. She is after all Waller's #1 on the field.

Lady Mastermind grins quietly to herself, listening over the line and casting her eyes towards Alex Danvers and Deathstroke. One eye drifts closed in a wink as she tugs at the lanyard of her SMG, freeing enough of it to get her wrist and fingers around the grip, ready to go. She ends the illusion, the bloody crater disappearing, revealing to those tricked that she's walking in a crouch to meet up with the others. "Don't hate. You'd do it, too." Regan grins impishly, evident over the comm-line, and racks the slide to her weapon. "My brain game is on fleek today." Digging in her boots, Regan straightens to her full height and fights her tiny, thin frame against the heavy snow to follow…until she gets the idea to hop into Alex's snow-trail, letting the #1 jailer on-site be her own personal snow plow.

Thank god for technology. Without it she would never know when to do this stuff. But June yanks on the cord at the appointed time, and since Waller doesn't want to squish her witch quite yet, it actually opens. The chute flares out, and she sails into the LZ, landing not at all gracefully, sprawled onto the ground.
You paged Alex Danvers with 'We're after Kryptonite. It's cheaper to take it away from petty warlords we put in power than buying it or trying to steal it from someone like Lex Luthor. The warlord's son, SOMETHING MIN (i dont have a name for him yet) has it. He is in his mountain fortress hiding from his enemies right now, its our only opportunity to take it from him before he is gone again in more protected zones, this is a sort of get away from him because he thinks hes protected by mountains - no one can climb these, no one is stupid enough to and then attack his fortress. Which they have been armed up by the Sin-Cong granting them possible robots, power suits and high-tech weaponry (they wont have much though, but enough to outfit the best of his Royal Guard)'

Deathstroke never even saw the illusion, but peices together a theory as to why the entire squad seems to be grouping up in one location around nothing. He sighs softly and moves in the general direction of the group, though he keeps his rifle up and vision scanning the horizon. As he moves past June he crouches just enough to grip the back of her winter gear with one hand and effortlessly pluck her up as if she were a child and set her back on her feet. He absently moves his hand over her shoulders, hitting the releases on her chute's harness and says in a quiet but very 'do as I say' tone, "Roll it up, stuff it more or less back in the pack, set the pack down under heavy rocks or snow so it won't blow away and alert anyone to our presence." and he's moving away from her as if just expecting her to follow his orders.

<We all done fucking around now? Some of us have actual shit to do this week.>

"Nobody's dead," Alex says into comms. "Yet." That'll change. But, she actually doubts it'll be her team that dies. She looks at Tasky's imperial probe droid beside her and jerks her chin towards where they should be heading, "C'mon, Darkie," a pun on the whole 'DRK-1' Starwars droid name, "let's not keep the hooligans waiting."

She moves towards the others, adjusting her weapons as she goes. "We've got hours of frozen-assed fun ahead of us," she tells them. "Let's move. Gotta keep Mamma Waller happy."

What follows, then, is a nearly 4 hour hike through rugged mountain wilderness, punctuated by grueling sheer rock climbs, and the following briefing:

"Min Jae-Sung is holed up in his 'country retreat', a 67 acre fortress disguised as a private ski resort. Which, you know, no one actually buys, 'cause who the hell plants a resort up in the most inaccessable part of the Himalayas that only the most suicidal would try to climb or ski?" You know. Like them. "He's in tight with the Sin-Cong," an other asian country known for its high-tech weaponry and battlefield droids, not to mention heavy power suits. "So, we can expect mechanical resistance and probably a rerun of the Battle of Hoth." She's seriously hoping they're more effective than the Imperials, in this case, however. "We need to get in, neutralize any resistance, and lift the package before reinforcements can arrive." Note, however, that she does NOT tell them what 'the package' is. Not even when they whine.

Which means it's probably something pretty valuable, naturally.

Eventually, they come within striking distance of the fortress. "Well, boys and girls. Just about showtime. Any final questions? Besides what we're picking up?"

<I don't know if we're done fuckin' around. Taskie? Reggie? We done? Personally, I didn't think we got past the foreplay, but daddy sounds grumpy.> Harley winks and then starts making her way towards the target in the snow. She grumbles softly, hours and hours of hiking only making a bored Harley all the more likely. "Yanno? If Waller had let me bring my babies this trip, I coulda been on my snowboard and just let them run up the hill. That woulda been fun." She looks to June, helping her whenever the doctor should need it.

"Yeah, pretty sure we helped his daddy kill a buncha people once." Taskmaster says in regards to Min, he doesn't respond much to Regan's antics only points a fingergun at her and whispers, "Bang." then proceeds to trudge on up the mountain in that glorious four hour climb+hike.

"Also incredibly noisy and obvious, Harley. Also your Hyenas like snow?"

The closer the group gets to the ski resort the thicker the mountains press, the oxygen levels adjust to it and the wind seeps deeper in to the bones. Its cold. Climbing is growing hazardous and death is a thing that can happen. Also there is incredibly vicious eagles that like to attack people and goats. Mountain goats that want to climb ahead of the Suicide Squad knocking rocks and debris down towards them.

"Fucking… goats." Taskmaster is heard saying more than once.

June is struggling on the hike. Trained mercenaries, supervillain criminals, government agents…archaeologists. One of these things is not like the other. She looks incredibly grateful to Harley for the assistance, and will quietly say "Thank you." to her as they struggle their way up towards Bad Guy Inc.

A *Puff* of white, a tuck and roll, like a bad date ditched out of the passenger side of a seeding vehicle…

But Ravager picks up after the grace(ful)less landing and keeps running, because mid-fall a part of her saw a blood-painted spatter…
… the other saw …. Reality?
R "This Bit——!!!" A huff and puff, and Ravager is standing there tucking guns behind her back, resting the Rhino's back into their holsters with a smile and a drawww/ of toe through the snow while the communications come throughto clarify and **rectify* the situation at hand.

Grouped with the rest, the snow almost blanks out the color of hair peeking beneath the knot of mask, one pale eye casts a glow towards Harley, Regan, Alex, Task, and Deathstroke…
But fidgeting at the small of back there is audible clicks.

Ascension, though, is handles with far more grace and ease - despite the passing hairy eyeball to SKWAD.
"Not. Funny."

Lady Mastermind tugs a scarf over her face and falls into line for the hike next to the other least tough of the bunch: June. She presses a finger to the LASH system around her throat and whispers onto the line. "<Who's fucking around? I don't fuck around. Don't got a clue what you're talking about.>" She answers Deathstroke and Harley, but behind her back, her middle finger curls out against her backpack, flipping a bird cowardly, against her ass, where Slade cannot see.

But the dirty looks from Ravager and Taskmaster have Lady Mastermind lifting her shoulders and flexing her arms out to the sides while she hikes. Oops? The sociopath in Lady Mastermind laughs under her breath, looking away quickly. Her eyes don't return to them for the rest of the hike and climb. Doghouse or not, shame is a hard thing for Regan to fake. "…Q said it was funny."

After nearly slipping twice on the climb, Lady Mastermind slips into place next to Alex and tears her scarf from her face. "Yeah, I got a question. Who's on guard duty for you this time? Like Bolivia? Am I on your six, again?" She asks, then dares to look at the others around her.

Deathstroke allows the rifle to settle against his chest armor, <Doctor Quinzel,> the tone and timbre of the voice, while distorted through the mask and electronics, just might ring a small bell of recognition for Harley, <I expect better.>

He takes the lead ahead of the others, putting his pace up the mountain at a slight jog to start with and then slowing it to a stiff forward march that's likely brutal for anyone not /very/ current with their personal training regimens. Occasionally he pauses to let stones or snow shed off of his armor, his eye narrowing if a rain of debris becomes heavy, "Fucking goats." he mutters softly.
"Do I really seem like the subtle type to you, Tasky? And no, but you have to admit that it would be cool, and a lot faster then hoofin' it." She snorts then softly and winks to Regan. "Reggie, I'm as loopy as a lemur tail! Saying that I thought it was funny likely means it was only that way to me, cause I'm nuts." She rolls her eyes as Deathstroke scolds her. <I'm sorry, Daddy, Dr. Quinzel isn't here right now. But if you'd like to leave your name, number and measurements at the sound of the beep, she'll be happy to get back to you when her medications are in the right dosages! Beep!>

"It's really gross and creepy they are all picking up on calling you Daddy, Slade." Taskmaster doesn't mention being called 'Uncle' on more than one occassion either, one time in which he referred to himself as 'like an uncle to Rose' which is probably now blown way out of proportion. The climbing nears it's end as they crest a high point, a dangerous ravine cuts down, dips inward and reveals the Ski Resort / Fortress in an open split between two mountain peaks. They can already see the armaments, several anti-aircraft platforms, armed guards in ski towers and at the top of the lifts, which are above them a little further. Their target. Quickest way down is to use the ski lifts unfortunately they are monitored.

"Can't always go hot, heavy and flamboyant Harls, sometimes it requires a little finesse and subterfuge." He offers over to her while crouching down in the snow, they can see the entire resort laid out from here. It is very posh on the inside, Min likes to live pretty. Fancy even. A tiger with a crown was chosen as his armies emblem for a reason. As Taskmaster recalls the man's father was fairly 'fancy' as well and had quite the crush on Deathstroke.
A low deep chuckle escapes the skullfaced merc. "Which, brings us to our next question, Agent Danvers. Whats the plan on entry here?"

"Deathstroke and Taskmaster are our tanks, this time out," Alex tells Regan and, by extension, everyone else. And, God, is she glad they they left Joker behind, this time. "They'll handle the heavy resistance — take out those mechs, gentlemen. Ravager and Quinn are on anti-personnel. Put a dent in their power armour and make sure they don't alert their buddies downslope. Dr. Moone and you, Regan, are with me, yes. We're incursion, while the others keep the heat off of us. You are to make sure no one identifies us and our good archeologist is here in case we need to call on her less well-behaved alterego." She's actually fairly kind to June. Likely because she kinda feels sorry for her; a woman like June shouldn't have to hang with psychopaths like the rest of the squad… or transform into one of them, for that matter. "My job is to secure the package. Your job is to make sure I can. If we have to take out Mr. Min in the process… well, eggs and omlettes. Though, really, let's try not to make too big an omlette, this time. Just for the novelty of it."

June sighs. "Understood." She replies to Alex. She's hoping that things are going to go well. Sadly, there's not a particularly good track record of that so far.

Smiling to Taskmaster, Harley leans in close as they look over at the resort below. "If this is a job for subtlety, they shouldn't have brought me, cutie. Besides, hot, heavy and flamboyant is the best way to go."

Listening to the plan, Harley makes a face. "Power armor? Well, ain't that a peach." She then taps Ravager's arm and winks. "You and me. Shame she won't let us have the rest of #teammeangirl." She looks around to the others and lets out a bored huff of air. "So, shall we?"
Deathstroke doesn't respond, he's ahead of the rest of them and trying hard to fight the temptation to just start an avalanche behind him. His daughter's presence may well save many lives in the missions to come. Fuck you, Amanda. "So the plan is to incapacitate everyone in the way, most of whom are coated in tech, without allowing any of them to get off a warning. Even though by design their tech is guarenteed to come with comms of their own." he turns to eye Alex flatly. "Without this tactical accumen however would we survive these sorties?" his tone could corrode adamantium. He's still not happy about being under the command of a 'child'. The things he does for family… it's humiliating.

He shifts his attention to Task, "Did you bring any of Barton's toys? I'm thinking something in the subtle signal jamming family?" He pulls a long supressor from a pouch on his thigh and begins to screw it onto the end of his rifle… right up until Harley talks. He freezes and his head hangs slightly. His coms are off so no one can hear the soft low growl that suddenly begins to emminate from somewhere in his chest. He puts the rifle away slidding it into it's sheath on his back, replacing the supressor in it's place, and pulling his powerlance free, letting it telescope out to it's full length. "I miss professionalism." he turns to eye Taskmaster, "Wanna go say hi to an old friend?" the ends of the lance begin to glow softly.

"I'd call your sense of humor refined, and Deathstroke is about as suble as a slaughterhouse on fire." Regan dips her head in a nod to Alex and checks her weapon. Finger balancing over the trigger guard, she reaches down to check the suppressor on her SMG and then looks to June. "Stay close, alright? I'm gonna do my best to convince everyone we pass that they can't see us as we are, but I can't do much about security cameras." Regan grinds a knuckle into June's shoulder then looks across the span of the others. Regan tugs her scarf up over her face and lifts two fingers in a salute to Taskmaster, Harley, Deathstroke, and Ravager. "Don't die. The next season of Sense8 just came out and I've got priorities." Regan pats the side of her ribcage, beside her left breast twice, then bumps a knee against Alex's hip.

"Some military hoo-er or whatever inspirational speech blahblahblah." Regan mutters. "Lead on, Full Metal Bitch."

Ravager slips a hand from her tie at the base of skull just below coccyx, fastening the mask there as she leers at Regan in a pass that would #bumpthatbitchup!, but then the tap from Harley has a flash of singular line of teeth from Ravager, to her, it was simply from incisor to "wisdom".

You only live once!

A glance to Deathstroke and Ravager's smile fades, the eyes behnd the mask narrow and a curt nod is given, one that ends in a pat to thigh and a 'hooked' arm is offered to Harley…

Death inspires me like…

"Shall we dance… CrazyCakes??" But once her arm is gripped the other is reaching back just before she runs forward and leaps! into the lift, dangling off the base of a chair…
Other hand???

The Rhino is drawn and the plley system is shot, the tension removed!
They are plummeting towards the target.
Muttered: "Kamehameha…bitches…"
"I have a LoveHate Relationship in my canals for Insane Clown Posse….By the way…" SMOOCH!

Harley gets a cheek kiss and IN THEY GO!

Jae-Sung Min is having a lovely day, the heavy aroma of his opium laced up tea makes his smile comes easy. He doesn't even care about the blood being scrubbed off his carpets by two slaves. It actually makes him quite happy to see it, no one lies to the son of Go-Sung Min. No, Old Tiger is dead and Jae-Sung Min the Undying Tiger is now the living ruler of Pashman and it's backwater people.
"My slippers? Where are my slippers? They best be by the fire again. You know I like my toes warm when I get up." His bickering grates on the ears of his guards, both of whom are decked out in armor that looks vaguely Samurai like only its futuristic, like something out of an anime. Neither of them talks back to their lord. They just stand mute watching him from behind their visors. "Well. Which of you is Jogu? I can never tell you apart. I told you to put on name tags." This is a casual day for Jae-Sung Min. A leisurely day off the backs of a suffering Pashman wartorn people. HE truly loves his life and is entirely unaware of the Suicide Squads presence.

"Something like that." A snort escapes Taskmaster, "Barton." He has to give the man credit, amazing technique, bow drawn an an arrow with a heavy head is knocked. Taking the time to draw and release he does so, the short range signal EMP will knock out the eastern side and have two more follow ups, center and west. They're obscured around corners and edges, constant pulse sent out that will interfere with static and distortion.

The majority of Jae-Sung Min's guards are not armored beyond kevlar helmets or layers of fur, weapons consist of stock black market Soviet era garbage to 90's America. These personnel travel in groups of spaced out twos and threes. No serious threat for anyone here. If they're not caught unaware.

Positioned here and there however are turrets, these turrets are controlled from inside the fortress and host enough fire power to pound through light armored vehicles. Careful with those. Thats just the outer defenses. Royal Guardsmen haven't even been sighted yet.

Yes. The instructions Alex gave are pretty standard by-the-book incursion. And yes, even in their short time together, the squad has largely done it often enough that they really shouldn't need explicit instructions. And, yes, some of what she's asking sounds impossible because of the tech available to their opponents. BUT, she also knows that this squad regularly does the impossible. And she knows that Deathstroke, for now, is gonna at least keep Rose and the people who keep Rose in pone piece… in one piece. Because that's how he rolls (or so Waller tells her). So, although his disdain for her is clear, she's unphased by it. Because, really? The feeling's kinda mutual.

Thus, she waits long enough for Crusty and the Skill Mimic to make their initial approach, and for CrazyCakes and (Not-so-)Crusty Jr. to start their thing, before she waves Wyngarde and Moone to come with her.

At that point, it's all skulk and well-placed daggers (ok, probably mind-scrambles and silenced double-taps) as they make their way towards the Pretentious Kitten's lair.

Deathstroke's teeth grind inside his helmet. He can abide morbid humor as a means of coping, he can suffer through banter and glib soldier's shit talk, he's built a thick enough skin for all of it. But unprofessionalism drives him to anger. Slade idely wonders to himself if he killed one of them and nailed the corpse to Belle Reve's gates if the message would be clear. He imagines it would take at least three. Shouldn't be /that/ hard to get a contract on the Joker, all his victims in his years. Hrm. There's a thought.

He explodes off of the path like he had been loaded into starting blocks, following after Taskmaster's arrow and opting for a similar path as his daughter… only a bit higher. He lands feet first atop the cable that holds the ski lifts aloft and begins to race along it's taut length at a run that begins to accelerate to vehicular speeds. While the others in the group annoy him, long years working with Taskmaster have made this sort of opperation second nature and he's already working through the available targets in his head, knowing which Taskmaster will target and how and which will be up to him. If he were a different man he'd smile a bit at how familiar all of this feels. Internally he wonders if he'll get to stab the old king once. Just for old times sake. Guy had a creepy habit of staring when last they met.

Lady Mastermind isn't one to fight fair, and is where she is the most comfortable, skulking up to the compound while the rest of the team causes all sorts of problems. Where her scarf doesn't cover, there's a grim determination in her eyes, one of the very sort of concentration required to keep those not wearing a psi-blocker to see what SHE wants, rather than what might just save their lives. That's what makes it all so quiet, and for Regan, a little bit fun.

Nearing their entry point into the compound, Regan slips ahead of the group and moves to the front. Weapon held low, she peeks around a corner, then after a few breaths, motions for Alex and June to follow her. With two guards at the door, Regan lifts her SMG and walks…directly in front of them. The suppressed muzzle of her weapon hisses twice, and each of the guards go down with smoking holes in their heads.

It's murder. It's not not playing fair by any means, which is Regan Wyngarde's thing.

The cock of her hip through the door and the wave she gives for the women to follow through the bowels of the compound is bratty, and a wee bit of a dance move, rolled turn against the wall.

Regan Wyngarde might just be having fun.

June moves to follow Regan, and can't help but stare in shock at the dead guys that suddenly crop up in front of her. She puts a hand over her mouth, trying hard not to lose breakfast, going a little pale at the sight. She closes her eyes a moment, both not to look at it, and to quiet some inner turmoil. Inner turmoil is bad.
"Damnit. I am still catching my breath a bit here." Taskmaster mumbles under his breath in regards to the very gung-ho Task Force X'ers already in motion. The bow remains out and he uses it to loop over the cable swinging down after them. It's durable and built for actions like this, it is fashioned after Hawkeye's own after all. Meant to double as a melee weapon and tool.

"I'm going to try and get in and shut down those turrets and any security camera's I couldn't knock out. Yes, also tank it like you wanted Danvers. If I see any clunkers I'll try to take them out." Com clicks off and Taskmaster lands below in the snow, his coloration allowing him to fade before he is in motion again, leaping a stretch of stone to climb in to the resort. A bathouse? No gunshots yet. Nothing crazy. It would appear they're still largely going through unnoticed. At leastuntil one of the crew decides to start unleashing.

"Come on….SKWAD/Squad…" Ravager utters as Alex's orders seem so much like a mirror of Satan's.
… No holding it aganst her…maybe….

But once she and Harley blast aong the lines of the resort's lines and into the construct itself, Ravager hits the ground and pinwheels in a roll, a flicker back of arms in the absorbed roll that shows study in the martial…
Baby go ahead
I'll be your hatred and your pain…!

Let Ravager unleash in andem withthe rest as they come crashing through!!

The Kherubim blades flash in an arch as they are drawn up and out in a pinwheel to pierce up nd just beneath a chin….
Int the mandible…
Through the cranium..

A guard is lfted as Ravager rises to a full stand from her roll into the chaos!

We are dying,
…we are the damned!!

A splay of arms and vsceral remains paint the floor as she comes to a land just before the landing of her and Harley The Psycho Queen!…

Where Ravager uses blades, Harley prefers blunt. Especially blunt force trauma to the face. The pair dance in their own way, finding new 'partners' to lay out on the dancefloor in a wake of mayhem left behind them.

Alex takes a moment to lay a steadying hand on June's shoulder. "Don't look at it," she advises. "Don't let it get personal." She knows how tough that is, so she gives her shoulder a faint squeeze and then waits a moment to make sure the other woman is steady enough to continue. Then, her sidearm drawn rather than her heavy rifle, she moves forward to follow in Regan's wake, keeping June beside her, not behind. (Because, seriously, if the Wicked Witch of the West comes out to play, Alex does not want her at her *back*.)

June looks over to Alex. "How do you NOT?" She says. She's not hard enough for this kind of work, not really. But she'll move on at Alex's side, watching Regan with a mixture of concern and fear.
Deathstroke's arm pumps as he runs along the wire, small disks whistling through the air before clinking softly against either seemingly random surfaces, or against what turrets are within range of his throwing arm, just in case Task can't get to the control center in time. They'll need at least a single path out should it all go tits up. He reaches the end of the line at just shy of forty miles and hour and leaps from the cable to the top of the wench houseing and loading room for the lifts, and then from there into the air proper, his body hurteling across open space so quickly his shadow is a flicker on the ground beneath him.

That flicker is the only warning the pilot gets. The central courtyard to the resort currently houses only a single mech, it's displayed prominently, as much a sign of patriotic pride as it is supposed to keep anyone safe. It's size and armament are meant to exude the feeling of invincibility. Which it does. Which is why the pilot spends his shifts here doing nothing for hours on end. He is bored. So bored, that when his cockpit flickers with a shadow, he tilts his head upwards, hoping to see a rare bird or perhaps one of the glorious leaders super model toys being flown in to please him. Instead he sees a pale light and hears a heavy thump as something man shaped lands atop his canopy. The thing about invinsible feeling robots is that they suffer from one large glaring flaw. Humans. In the time it takes for the pilot to process the information being supplied to his brain he's already dead. The lance melts through the canopy glass and the insuing rush of energy turns the pilot inside to melted flesh and ash long before he has a chance to even feel the pain. The controls melt and glow and become useless, the heat of the lance's heavier power setting turning the entire inside of the cockpit into an oven in a fraction of a second. Pulling the lance free, Deathstroke slaps a large adhesive bandage meant for first aid over the small hole melted into the canopy, trapping the smoke inside, and moves on, leaving the impervious mech right where it was, looming impressively over the courtyard like an ever watchful gargoyle, now with exactly the same effectiveness. Not letting that be the end, he leaps from the mech to the ground and once more picks up a run. He has more mechs to kill.

Regan takes her time. A trail of dead bodies with one hole in each of their heads might seem like the work was done by Deadshot himself, but the truth is far less attractive than the imagery. Where the guards not wearing power armor are concerned, as the greater lion's share of the enemy forces are going in other directions, Regan is left with smaller fish, but each and every one that passes is unceremoniously disposed of. The magazine in the SMG empties and is replaced, only for the rifle to be left hanging in favor of two silenced .45 pistols the she brings out in a criss-crossed draw.

Regan looks back over her shoulder to Alex and June, doing a quick check of them and their faces, but June…receives a long look with narrowed eyes and something piercing in her gaze, as if making sure the woman is paying attention.

The last hallway to the payload is spent leaving quivering bodies drowning in their own saliva, the product of the very psychosomatic hallucinations Lady Mastermind is known for. Not a single bullet is spent as the guards flail their arms in the air as if trying to swim to the surface of an ocean. Lady Mastermind looks back to them, once more, and the scarf covering her lips twitches.

Now, Regan is just showing off to the archaeologist.

Fast Forward Several Minutes of Carnage, Movie Style Mayhem and Lots of Screams…

The New Royalist Army consists of many thugs and sadists who never got proper weapon traininig. Most of the time these fine men and women loyal to the despot Jae-Sung Min are busy doing the drugs they're supposed to be guarding, the attack from the Suicide Squad is a new nightmare for many of them. Absolute terror in physical form and even mental. This looks like an absolute massacre as turrets go down, hallways run red and the snow turns pink.

Very few threats are present to slow the Task Force X unit until they're gathered in the Ski Resort 'master hall' which comes fully equipped with a tiger fur laden wooden throne worthy of a Hobbit movie king.

Jae-Sung Min with energy assault rifle in hand backs up behind his two armored samurai, "You helped my father now you come to kill me?! Typical American snakes. You are the scum of the earth all of you."
Both power armored swordsmen stand ready in crouched swing ready stances. Flanking the room is the remaining soldiers in their sloppy uniforms, weapons prepped, these weapons now many of them lacking ammo consist of melee trinkets as well, spears, cudgels, swords, one guy even has one of those fancy Ninja kusari-gama things with the chain.

Like a Kill Bill movie the Squad at this point should be assembled together directly infront of Jae-Sung and his entourage. They reek of fear.

"You think you can stop me? I am the Undying Tiger! I am Jae-Sung Min!"

Taskmaster leans closer to Alex and whispers, though it carries through comms too, "We don't have orders to kill him right? I mean, I don't think he knows that but we're here to secure a package, a package you never told us about… is he it?"
A loud shrill scream is heard from outside somewhere, that would be Deathstroke preparing the grounds for a Sheba arrival at some point. It will carry them from here through the mountains to friendly zone where the Tube awaits lift off. Yay for another 20+ hour flight. They'll cross that bridge when they get to it. Right now it's an old school stand off. Killers vs Killers.
One of Min's men along the wall actually drops his weapon and starts to vomit profusely, gibbering wildly in the Pashmani dialect of the Khas language. Hes done. Someone show him the exit. It doesn't help all the Squad's fancy white camo gear is now bloody red. They went from Moon Knight to Deadpool in less than 5 minutes.

"Nope," Alex confirms. "He's not the package. He's just an ass." An ass making assumptions. She raises her voice so the despot can hear her. "Sorry, Tigerman. But, this time, it's not all about you. I just need that fancy rock you're sitting on."

What fancy rock? The throne, after all, is made of wood. And fur.

Ah, but inside that throne is a lead-lined box that carries a special cargo. And that's what the young woman wants. "Step aside and let me have it, and we'll all go our own ways and you can get back to your…" her hand rolls vaguely… "entertainment. Otherwise… Okay, yeah. Then, it becomes all about you, and that'd be really, really unhealthy for you."

That's the only warning he gets. She raises her rifle and locks it on him, waiting for his response. It's not like the rest of the team won't be able to handle the thugs, after all.

Harley smirks and elbows Ravager. "Undying Tiger, he says," she mutters to her friend. "Wanna bet that's just some sort of silly name?"

What little white was on her outfit is no longer white. She listens to Alex give her orders to the little man and bounces eagerly. "Can it be me? Can it? Can it?!"
<"….young Skywalker. Give in to your hatred. Let it flow through you."> A young, bitchy voice whispers over the comm-line. <"This guy is a douuuuuuche and we had to climb a stupid mountain to get here…"> Regan continues to whisper as she takes a knee behind cover, letting the big baddies in Task Force X handle Min Jae-Sung. She dabs at her face with her scarf, keeping it covered. Believe it or not, Lady Mastermind may be unprofessional, but she's slowly learning to soldier up.

"<All in favor of stripping him naked and making him think he's being chased by actual tigers through the snow say 'aye'?>" Regan pauses her whisper. <"Aaaaaye.">

It's a democracy, right?

June is watching Regan. Rather intently. It looks like she's mumbling something quietly. She's gone from horrified to watching things with a sort of morbid fascination. She looks back up to the Tiger. "Give her what she wants." Little mouse's voice has gone very flat and quiet.

Ravager bursts through…

… and the most screwed part of it?
When it all ends in the throne room she is upon-bent-knee, just before Deathstroke - Her Father.
Not facing him, just in front, and affixed between him and Harley as blades sweep in and up to sheath along the scabbards at her back in SILENCE (Insult her MORE NOW DAD!!)

What was white? Hair, eye, blades (Silver!) that shed red in their circular draw back, spattering a path of blood across the floor in their ascent…? Yeah, there is plenty of pink instead, a rub over bionic eye as Harley nudges her…
/Rocked/ lighty as she smears thumb over her bonic gaze hazed over…
"Show off…" But those two words are muttered and her tenor drops, a flick back of grip….

Chiappa Rhino pivots into her grip down along the line of right-handed harness to take aim!!!

FIRE!!

A deathblow? No, but she is aiming to take the "Undying" down a peg!
Or startle the vomiting bystanders into shitting their dia-purrrsss. <^>

"Fancy rock?" Jae-Sung Min's English is fairly good, broken in places but clear. "The Sky King stone? The Heavenly Gem? NEVER! Without that the Raksasha would descend upon us and devour us all. You are a funny lady, how about all of you sexy western women strip down, put on these leashes and ARGH!" The son of Go-Sung Min goes down as Ravager fires that Chiappa Rhino in the middle of his ultra macho very sexist dialogue. The hit of the round lifting him off of his feet. From his back he is heard screaming, rolling and clutching at his upperbody, "KILL THEM KILLL EVERY ONE OF THEM! I WANT THEIR HEADS!!" Flailing, flopping blood squirting the tyrant slaps around on the ground.

"Jesus you Wilsons." Taskmaster hisses in to the coms.

There is hesitation and then everyone is Kung Fu Fighting. All those thugs with their guns to melee weaponry are attacking the Suicide Squad in fiery display. Many of them doped out of their mind.

"Tank time… " Taskmaster adds in and slides forward on knees to deflect a sword with his shield, roll up off one of them knees to spin and slam his own sword in to the chest of the opposing power armored samurai. "Clear the rest. I'll keep these two off of you guys."

Jae-Sung Min is crawling now, clambering over his throne to push up one of the wooden arms, reaching his fingers in he starts to fidget around with something. "Awaken Sky Warrior. Protect your children… " he gurgles past red stained teeth. "You're all going to pay now. American fat slut pigdogs."

Alex tracks Min as he crawls towards his throne. He gurgles his insult and, as fighters all around her start converging, she fires a shot at his head. Because, really? He actually does need to die. Preferably before he calls whatever this Sky Warrior is. Then, as Taskmaster and the others take the heat off her, she launches herself forward with a nearly Kryptonian leap, thanks to her alien power armour, slamming the butt of her rifle in the dictator's forehead and knocking him away from the throne.

She'll worry about the 'morality' of all this, later. Over that bottle of Jack's she's craving. Again.

"<I heard this guy's in the female trafficking game.>" Regan chatter-whispers over the line as she pulls out a spare scarf, one that isn't covered in blood. She holds it out and points to June's cheek, pausing to dab at a spot of blood there. "<I was totally in Monaco doing the Bond Girl thing? Great shoes, backless dress, bacarat, and I heard some guys talking about how they went to one of his clubs and watched him feed a girl to a shark, entry was like fifty-k per head.>" Regan whispers. "<A fucking shar—— GAME ON!>" Regan pushes up from behind cover and extends both arms.

Lady Mastermind opens fire. One of the goons popping up from cover with a shotgun trained on Alex Danvers goes down, rolling to a dead stop at Alex's feet. Then…a shadow looms to Regan's right. A doped-out goon with a machete screams his way towards June. Regan empties a round into his hip, but the barreling, psychotic fighter crashes into Regan, and the two go down in a heap…right next to June Moone.

June looks shocked as the machete-wielder comes her way…and then Regan intercepts it. And June was already in a bad state. Her eyes narrow, as she tenses up…right before doing the thing that's either going to really help, or REALLY screw things up.

"Enchantress."

Shadows wreath her, and the Witch appears, glaring. "Yield or die." Which side she's addressing remains a good question.
Regan knows how to get Harley's angry side to come out and play. All this time, she has been quipping jokes, flirting, and just generally being an ass. But once Regan mentions the female trafficking, there is a visible tic at Harley's eye and she stops laughing.

Her smile gone, Harley pulls out her pistols from her back and just starts shooting anything that isn't SKWAD. She pauses for a moment to look at the witch, a gun pointed to her head, waiting to see just whom Enchantress is talking to.

Jae-Sung Min's rictus smile is shattered by the impact of Alex's first shot the second hit just sends him in a sloppy bounce away from the throne. The arm is open a control console is visible and it does say 'Activated'.
The Tiger furs on the throne itself are also pushed away enough to show the container box's housing. Where the package is located. No locks on it apparently there was 'Faith' protecting it.

Taskmaster makes quick work of the first power armor Samurai, cutting the Ronin Warrior down in a furious display of Deathstroke+Captain America+Daredevil+Swordsman moves before approaching his companion who drops his sword and puts his hands up, in English he speaks, "I quit. That asshole never got my name right anyways."

Seeing the state they're in many of the other members of the New Royalist Army begin stepping back and dropping weapons, one by one hands start to go up. The word "Surrender" in Khas being spoken by them.

Then the entire structure rumbles. The ground begins to quake and something somewhere fires to life, energy surging through it as thunder pounds through the resort.

"Sky Warrior… " Khas Language again repeated in awe and terror. Now Min's men are starting to run out the front door. Escape is their only thought.

"Really, you come out now?" Taskmaster huffs at Enchantress, "You best not be speaking to us after all of this. A fifty thousand mile hike AFTER a 24 hour plane ride then killing all these dickbags… " Blood flecks off Taskmaster's sword as he waves it around in his speaking. "Can we just have an easy done and go home mission?"
"Danvers, we have another situation here." Even as the world rumbles with whatever the Sky Warrior is Taskmaster's opposing hand, the one that had the shield on it is now holding a gun aimed at June's alter ego. "Cmon freaky fun times Jeanie, climb back in to your… shit, whats it called/ That thing… with the smoke…. I swear I need to do more crossword puzzles for my memory." A tick click sound escapes Contingency T as he word hunts mentally. It's a fog up there. His memory palace is a place of whispy smoke and fleeting images that are never solid until hes kicking something really hard.

"Wilson's…" When the 'Near Exintinct Motherfucker' flounders, Ravager is lunging forward in a manner that could easily be seen as weeckless….
"WHAT?!?" Those blades come in a duality as they seek to grapple through cloth and toss bodies BACK!

Taskmaster' Shield is met with blunt-force-trauma and a filigris of blood across the emblem while Alex reigns in beside him in a leap that is the epitome of Alien physiology!!!

But Mastermind falls.
Enchantress is exhumed..
And Harley lunges!!

… Taskmaster threatens June and with a sudden lunge Ravager is attempting to breach the 'Throne' and MIN as he chants in his native tongue, a single blade sparking as she imbeds it into the platform beside the profile of the 'FauxGod', the other aimed towards Enchantress!
"We have a DEAL!"
A tic of sword towards the SQUAD as they all spring to (RE)action.
"No situation…Maybe… Ya know… Wilson's…" A draw of lips corner in a sneer.

"Oh, for cryin' out l—" Alex suppresses the urge to swear. She reaches into the throne to pull out the lead lined box, glancing up to where Taskmaster and half the squad, it seems, stand against Enchantress. "Stand down, witch, or I pull out the 'failsafe' on you. You get me?" That same failsafe Waller used. Because, if you think for a moment that Alex was willing to go into the field without it, you've got another think coming. She spares half a second to pry open the lead box and peek within. The very observant might notice a flash of a faint green glow out from around the edges. Satisfied, Alex grunts softly, snaps the box closed, and shoves it into a pack she's been carrying — as usual.

Then, she turns to face Enchantress, even as the rumbling continues to grow. She locks eyes with the demonic bitch. "You're on our side, this time. Our side, or the graveside." Her hand is now on a heretofore innocuous, if a trifle sizable, but very secure pouch on her hip. "Your choice."

Beneath the cover, beneath the feet of the Enchantress, Regan's feet kick up and down as she makes a strained sound. The machete is held in one hand by her attacker, and Regan is using her forearms to keep it away from her face. When the mousy-eyed (and eyebrowed) June turns into the shadow-wreathed Enchantress, the goon with the machete flinches and falters staring dumbly at the witch. It's all the distraction Regan needs to get a knee against his belly, shift her wrists to point a gun upwards.

BAM

Blood splatters all over the area, peppering the overturned table, Regan, the Enchantress, everything, and despite the rumble, the yoga-centric sociopath known as Lady Mastermind, pushes to her feet to see guns turned her, no, Enchantress' way.

Regan puffs the coverage of her scarf away from her lips and sliiiiides into place between the Enchantress and the others, guns held out low, in quite possibly the skinniest human shield possible.

"She almost got hacked; it's cool!" Regan yells out, very pointedly not pointing guns back at them. "She was talking to the guy, the guy that was trying to kill me!" Regan stomps her foot hard and a splatter of blood sloshes about her ankles. Nearly slipping, she kicks, and a machete rattles out from behind the cover, looking as if Jason Voorhees had recently killed with it. "She's got our backs, guys, it's okay."

Enchantress looks over at the Squad, weapons drawn on her, and then Regan moves to stand in front of her. Her lips curl up, in a hint of a smile. She reaches up and sets one hand on Regan's shoulder, lightly resting it there. "You are correct." she says, and only after that does she look over to Ravager. "We do." Her voice is low, dark, slightly full of reverb.
Alex gets a look, on the other hand, narrow-eyed and full of hate. "You are not Waller. And if you think she would not kill you for costing her my services, you are wrong. But for now…we are on the same side. You have what you need? We are done?"

That long moment with her gun pointed at the head of the witch, now pointed at Regan, gives her the time she needs to calm down. The 'undying tiger' is quite dead, his men running as something rumbles to life. With a batting of her lashes, it's almost as if Harley comes back to herself. "So, not us then. Okie doke," she tells Enchantress as she pulls her pistol back to rest on her shoulder.

Then she shoots Min in the head with her other gun. Just in case.

"This is the Sheba and I am waiting out here ready for to take off. Deathstroke is already on board and you have an avalanche coming on down the mountain. Not sure what y'all set off but you may want to hurry. Over." Click.

"Avalanche?" Taskmaster echoes and that is all they hear of him. Every psychopath for themselves as the skull faced mercenary forgets entirely about guns or the threat of the ancient Witch-Goddess. He'd rather not get crushed under a mountain side today. KTHXBAI.

The tremors pick up in tempo, the Sky Warrior approaches closer and closer as does apparent immediate death. Even immortals might find issue if they're buried under a hundred thousand tons of rock and snow.

"Hurry up, Task Force X." The Sheba pilot insists. "I can't wait too long for all of you. Oh look, Taskmaster is now on board. What? NO w— hands off ACK- Okay we're alright. We only got a little bit of time left before Deathstroke shoots Taskmaster in the head though, I think he wasn't happy that he wanted to leave ya'll."

"Fuck it, I was only joking anyways. We'll stay a little longer, just hurry. I pulled a hammy and a ton of other shit getting here." How did he get there that fast? Taskmaster. Thats how. Also double-speed in moments of extreme haste, terror, chickenshitness. End run they're all out for themselves here. Task is just folding his hand first.

"Time to go," Alex tells those still standing around, including Enchantress. She's got the box, after all. Mission accomplished… if they get their asses back to the Tube in one piece. So, that said, she gestures to them to start hauling ass and then does so herself. Jack's. A whole case of Jack's when she gets home. Seriously.

Enchantress nods. "Then we go." She spreads her arms, and shadows seem to billow out all around, and there's a flare, as the team finds themselves relocated to the extraction chopper, the shadowy smoke retracting back in as if sucked into Enchantress' body, in the aftermath.

Alex is given a slow graze of that mismatched gaze, the swords unwavering even as a terror-stricken gaze is sudden devoured in front of a planted-bade by a HarleyBullet.

Enchantress is nodded to…

SQUELCH!!

"Let's go then…." A low mur/mur and Ravager is playing slip-n-slide off the stairs with a wink to Harkey, a /slippery/ attept to reach to offer Regan a hand up…

And they upon the 'Bird.'

"Well, then…" GLARE!

…and Ravager is back within her pile of white cloth, even if she stains it pink

Regan, for her credit, hasn't entirely lowered her pistols, and is unsmiling in her stare to the rest of the team despite the guns that, by proxy, end up pointed at her own face instead of the Enchantress'. The hard line her brows make at Harley and company lessens as weapons lower, and the tiny sigh of relief that comes when she's not going to be shot in the face transfers from her lungs to her shoulder, and thus, into the Enchantress' fingers. "Damned right we're all on the same team, never-" Regan reaches out for Rose's hand and….

Blink.

Sheba.

Regan shudders at first at the harsh change of scenery, but once she realizes what has happened, she stuffs her guns away and beams a broad smile to the floor and flops her body back into one of the seats. She jerks her gloves off and slops them to the deck and runs her hands over her face "…okay that was seriously awesome." Regan laughs and reaches for the safety belts.

"We're all on, bus driver!" Regan yells out, stomps her boot, then settles in for the ride

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