Selling the World

May 21, 2017:

Regan and Enchantress have a private chat. Regan pledges herself to be on the winning side of history

Regan's Apartment

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions: Waller

Plot:

Mood Music: The Man Who Sold the World


Fade In…

The flight from Belle Reve penitentiary has landed Regan Wyngarde back in Gotham and into her frail sense of post-prison freedom. It's the kind of freedom that needs a stop at one of the bars in the airport's corridors before hailing a taxicab into the swanky district named 'Chelsea'. Freedom is bittersweet, and in Regan's case, smells like fog and steam everywhere she goes.

The lock to her door clicks just past two in the morning. With no suitcase, Regan returns to her apartment in the very clothes she left for Belle Reve in to begin with. Calf-height black boots tap on the wooden flooring, with a layered, black skirt that swishes around her feet up to the black tank top she's pulled over her torso. With imperfect hair and makeup, Regan is a dark cloud entering a dark apartment, but she's picked up a skill or two along the way.

First, her purse is set aside and a gun is drawn from it for her nightly sweep, from lower floor to loft above, making sure she is truly alone before settling into the relative peace and darkness of her home.

*

June got cut loose to be on her own, and she's found her way to Regan's place. She's got a gift bag in her hands, similar to what she gave to Rose, and moves up to knock on Regan's door. *knockknock*

*

The skirt swishes around Regan's hips as she spins around on her stairs. The gun points, then lowers. With a bite to her lip and a split decision to check her upstairs in a few seconds, Regan ends her search and tiptoes to the wall-eye on her door. Palms against the door, she peeks through, then unlocks it, holding her gun behind her back.

"June?" Regan asks as the door cracks open, looking out to the hallway before she opens the door wide enough to allow her in. "Come in."

*

June smiles a little sheepishly. "Hey." She steps in, then extends the bag in Regan's direction. "This is for you." She's dressed in a light brown leather jacket, jeans, T-shirt, and a pair of hikers.

*

"Me?" Only half incredulous, Regan takes a step back and leaves her gun on a table beside the door. She gives June a quick sweep with her eyes before taking the back and prrrrying it open with a fingertip to check inside. She really is that paranoid. "Rose told me about the bath bombs and everything, but are you normally this nice or is this about the human body shield thing?" Regan looks up to June, brows lofted.

*

"Well, actually, I still had this from the first apology. So, this is what I didn't have a chance to give to you before." Once she hands over the bag…which yes, contains in Regan's case bath bombs, scented candles, and some liquid lipstick. "But…I did want to talk to you about the human body shield thing."

*

Regan lifts the bag to her face and breathes in deeply. Her eyes flutter closed, melting into the scents that are the opposite of Belle Reve. A pleasant sound mumbles past her lips and she takes a step back, grabbing her gun, and walking backwards lazily. The fingers wrapped around the basket curl, beckoning June to follow. "I'm going to use one of these bombs tonight for sure, so thank you. These will go to good use."

Regan sets the basket down on her granite-covered island in the kitchen and stops, dipping her head to watch June enter her home, which is now fully returned to its normal state. The couches are no longer turned over, someone (not Regan) has dusted and vaccuumed. Servants are cheap, by the hour.

"What about it, June?" Regan asks, almost carefully. "I didn't want to get too deep into it in front of the others, but you had a right to know."

*

"Well…why? I mean…don't get me wrong, Regan…I appreciate it. But taking a bullet for me? You barely know me!" She seems really taken aback by the entire thing.

*

Regan Wyngarde stares at June Moone. Her blue eyes blink slowly, working their way against any one of a dozen decisions to or to not answer, such body language is obvious. The members of Task Force X aren't known for their honesty. The corner of Regan's lip disappears behind her teeth and she pins it down which she sighs, frowning at the question…she'd rather not answer.

"June…" Regan shakes her head slightly. "…you and I aren't so different. We're powerful in ways they aren't. We are two skinny, leggy bitches surrounded by career assassins with swords. We're a different case, though, aren't we?"

*

"Are we?" June's expression is troubled. "I mean, I watched you put bullets in those men's head yesterday without batting an eye, Regan. Are we really different from them? Taskmaster was ready to leave us to die, from what I heard. And you're stopping me from getting shot."

*

"We're being kept by the devil because of what we can do, which doesn't need bullets. At least in that, we're like each other." Regan replies, brushing her hair back over her head and stepping past June towards her fridge. She leans in and opens the door, pulling out two bottles of beer. "But have you considered what happens to someone like me if I appear remorseful for cleanly wiping those pieces off of the board?" Stepping past whether or not she's actually remorseful, Regan cracks open one beer and sets it in front of June.

"I'm not crazy." Regan mutters. "I have my reasons."

*

June appears to be having some trouble focusing. She puts her hand out to the wall, like she's trying to steady herself. "I haven't…I—" She shakes her head a little. "Something's not right." Enchantress stacked the deck when she was out last. An enchantment triggered to go off when she was with Regan alone.

*

Regan remains on her side of the island. One arm bend sideways, she cracks the seal on her beer and motions with her chin towards a nearby sofa, but she makes no move to assist the fellow skinny-girl on the team. "Why don't you sit down, then?" Regan says, too curious to seem genuine about the offer. "Make yourself at home…"

*

June starts that way, but doesn't even make it halfway there before the word's falling out of her lips. "I…no…Enchantress." Shadows surround her, and seem to /twist/ around her, revealing June's darker, more scantily-clad alter ego.

"Finally. Trying to arrange this was frustrating." Enchantress says, turning to face Regan. "Your performance was interesting."

*

When the Enchantress is called, the edge of Regan's mouth twitches into a smile. Elbow propped against the island, she cocks a hip and waits as the shadows cast. When the ancient witch arrives, Regan matches her smirk with saucily narrowed eyes and a glance over the Enchantress. "She does seem rather resistant to you, doesn't she?" Regan sips at her beer, then motions to the open one on the island beside her. "I was hoping you were paying attention through it all. Which part of it was your favorite?"

*

"I was." Enchantress states. "Your energetic performance near the end…and especially choosing to put yourself between a bullet and I. You have taken to my offer more than the others have. I trust you see the potential in it?"

*

"I do." Regan replies with a nod of her head. The bottle is lifted to her lips for a sip, and then set aside while she swallows. Regan takes a step forward and clasps her hands behind her back. "They all want to be free, but they're afraid of you and don't want you to be free. You already know this, though, I can see you know this." Regan shakes her head, despite the way she tries to maintain eye contact with the…witch. "Between the two of us? You're going to be Waller's next target the moment you're free, and they are going to be the ones sent to hunt you down."

Regan Wyngarde…double agent.

*

"Of course I do." Enchantress says. "That's why we must remove the heart before this plan can be made. But the others are bargaining for my initial offer. My freedom earns them their freedom. I think you have the vision to see more than that." She makes eye contact, though that may well be more disturbing than anything.

*

"I…" Regan can only hold her eyes for so long before forced to look away. She averts her eyes to Enchantress' toes, the downturn of her attention carrying a measure of fear, if not respect, of her own. "…am willing to accept the risks of whatever bigger picture you have in mind, Enchantress. I know kings and queens when I see them, and this planet is run by fat bureaucrats like Waller and inferior humans that buy respect." Regan begins to shake her head, slowly. "I have enough vision to see that you have one. I have a vision of my own, too."

*

Enchantress walks over closer, reaching out to tilt Regan's chin up towards her to look at her. "Tell me about your vision, Regan. I think we may have something in common."

*

There's a shudder of breath from Regan when her chin is tilted. The layers of liar and sociopath crumble away when she meets the supernatural core of the Enchantress' eyes. "I…" Regan swallows. "…was born superior to humans. I'm what they call a mutant. They fear me and people like me for ex-exposing them for how weak they've become." Regan's lips slide closed, and when she swallows, her throat rolls over Enchantress' knuckle.

"They don't deserve this place anymore, and you…all I can think of when I see you is what it must have been like so long ago. I'm a child by comparison, but…two hundred years ago I would have been burned at the stake, a witch; some still would." Regan whispers the depths of her intent, pinned into place.

"The weak are not meant to rule."

*

"You are correct. The weak are not meant to rule. And you ARE superior. Alone of the others, you had the foresight to see what could be…and to risk yourself in trying to ensure I survived to make that become reality. When I am free, and this world is mine, I will need those who will enforce my will, and rule at my side. You could be such, if you pledge to me." She watches the mutant, eyes intense. "But that means serving me above any other. It means obedience to me. No matter what I demand."

*

Regan's shoulders tighten, and behind her back her slender digits wrap around her knuckles, tightening them in a fidgeting way. Her toes ache inside of her boots. For all of her bitchy blonde ways, she's hypnotized by the power before her, the coy slapped out of her face.

"I do…I pledge myself to you." Regan whispers, her throat drying at the prospect of selling the world, and helping it be reclaimed. "I've never served anyone but myself, only myself, I am selfish and angry…but…I want to serve you in this new world."

*

"Then you will rule at my side. You will be worshipped at my side." The Enchantress seems pleased, and her eyes seem to glow. One of her personal favorite tricks, as she looks in towards Regan's mind, to find her heart's desire. After all, being able to give others what they wish is a poweful lure.

The vision forms. Enchantress, in her fully empowered form. Headdress, flowing gown, moon-pale skin. The goddess, not the demon witch. Crowds bowing to her, and near her, on her right side, dressed in a skirt of tiny chain link threads, that fall easily away from her legs, with a bustier top that accentuates everything she has, is Regan. Dripping in jewelry, and with both men and women fawning all over her. Prized. Celebrated. Worshipped.

"This is what we can have. This is what we can be."

*

The skin pulled taut over Regan's chin, held aloft by Enchantress' hand, tugs harder in a dope-lined grin at the image brought before her eyes. Regan's eyelids lull, nearly closing, but the blue orbs remain behind thick lashes, pinned into place by the glowing eyes that hold her.

"I hate this place. I don't belong here. I deserve better than Gotham, and so do you." Regan murmurs, hands unclasping behind her back to wrap about her own belly. She hugs herself, pushing back the ache of bile in her belly for her anger that stings it. "I will get your heart and return it to you. I need to find a way past them, but I showed you. I can make them see what they want. I can fool them…I can appear as Waller, and I swear…as much as I want to bleed her dry with my own fingers…she will be my gift to you."

*

"/Yes/." Enchantress' voice is intense at that. She smiles, and moves her fingers from nudging Regan's chin to move over to gently stroke her cheek. "Soon. Very soon. We watch. We wait. And when the opportunity comes, we seize it. Regardless of the price. Remember…I am watching. Always, through her eyes." And with that, she takes a step back, and the shadows wreathe her again.

June is suddenly standing there, hand extended towards Regan's cheek. "I…what…oh god. I didn't slap you, did I?" She looks horrified, looking to the mutant.

*

In the end, Regan does close her eyes, soothed by contact comfort from an ancient entity. Like finding a rare bottle of brandy, she seems to relish in the touch of such power, which draws out slow breaths in her nod in agreement to the woman. "Yes…" Regan whispers, eyes drifting open as she hears the magic unravel and June, herself, comes back to the forefront.

"Wha-" Regan blinks quickly and throws a weak hand up in a block. She wraps her fingers around June's wrist, catching it. "-whoa there, you only slapped me once, you were feeling dizzy and like an idiot I jumped in too fast." Regan laughs and tries to guide June the rest of the way to her sofa.

"Let's get you off of your feet and comfortable. You're safe now." Regan mutters and over-exhales through her nose, shaking off the butterflies in her stomach.

*

June looks horrified. "Oh, god. It was her, wasn't it. Did she hit you? Are you all right?" Of course, the other half of the equation is that if Enchantress is to rule, June…well, it won't be a good end for June.

*

"No! No it wasn't her but for maybe just a second, she's so pissed they pointed guns at you, June." Regan lies easily, gripping June by her shoulders and pushes her down to the seat. Regan drops to one knee and checks on June, eyes searching, palm cupping her cheek and smearing away a lock of hair. "It'll take more than a slap to make me un-fine, June. No worries. Let me order some food and if you want to stay over, stay over, but," Regan laughs softly. "After prison, nothing is keeping me from using a bath bomb tonight."

*

June looks worried. "You can't let her hurt the others, Regan. Even if it means doing something with your powes to me so she doesn't come out. Okay?" The archaeologist smiles wanly. "Some food sounds really great right now."

*

"Look, I need to appear to them like I'm this stone cold killer or they're going to eat me alive, so I need your help, too, okay?" Regan lies further, swallowing hard and twisting on her heel to dig for her cell phone in the side of her bra. "I…I'll do my best. I'm not good at this shit, June. It's hard. I know." Regan flips the phone on and averts June's eyes while she orders with her thumb.

"You and me, we've gotta stick together or we're going to get used up hard and fast." Regan frowns into her phone's screen. "I hate the things my devil makes me do every bit as much as yours."

*

June nods. "Anything I can do, I will." She takes a deep breath. "You saved me out on that operation, Regan. I really appreciate it." A hard swallow. "My head is killing me."

*

"Beer. Fried Rice." Regan plants a hand on June's knee and pushes up, turning away to finish the order. She slaps a fresh beer down on the coffee table in front of June, then finishes the order and grabs her back of bath bombs. "You'd do the same for me if they pointed guns at me, wouldn't you?" Regan laughs and grabs her beer. "Fuck…does this mean I'm making friends?"

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