The 6th Floor: Bad Neighbors

May 30, 2017:

The 'off-duty' Suicide Squad engage in camaraderie and plans of hostile takeover. NSFW LANGUAGE


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Waller fucked up.

Put nearly a dozen of the world's most super-criminal minds in one place, force them to work together, and expect them to not network? When lives are on the line resources get shared, and within time, those not used to sharing…share.

Task Force X has quietly stolen an apartment complex.

The lair…is forming.

Regan Wyngarde is wandering the halls. Previously, when she'd lived alone in the building, she had no care to be seen amongst its occupants, but now? Now she's curious about the changes. Thus, with a black, wrapped skirt around her hips that stretches to the floor and a gaping, shoulder-baring shirt that reads 'SUNS OUT, GUNS OUT', she traces her fingertips along the walls as she stalks, hall by hall, memorizing the cracks in the mortar and things left behind by tenants in their wake.

Sighing, Regan reaches behind her head to check the purple-black ties to a string top clinging to the back of her neck. There, she jabs an earbud into one ear and lifts her phone, pressing play.

Love me, Love me,
Saaaay that you love me.

Poison Ivy steps out of her area, she's of course been making her little corner as sun and plant friendly as possible and sharing her abilities to those that want the living touch. "Normally that's my line," she quips to Regan. The green woman has been mostly working on setting up that healing plant that she showed them. That and getting the greenhouse more then just a rusted frame. "Just out for a montage house visit? You won't have to worry about neighbors or the super." She 'handled' that. They will be making zero complaints about the crew moving in and making 'renovations.'

The entire 6th floor is now Suicide Squad. Thats one whole floor of the brownstone apartment. Plenty of space for the assembled maniacs.

Their arrival last night was already greeted in passing by June and Harley who flew at them with a mallet and hyenas so that is easy to say the former psychiatrist is making herself at home somewhere here.

As Regan is traversing the halls loud music can be heard, thundering heavy metal at the very end and then a wall erupts. A hallway wall no less. The head of a maul sticking out of it. It vanishes back in for another swing. Taskmaster making himself busy. The conversation of Regan and Ivy is lost on him, its too loud at his 'neck of the woods'. Inside the room he is busted down to just a loose pair of 'kung fu' pants with a sash around his waist. The mask worn over his features is a facial skull only, it ties off in the back. More comfort than full headgear right now. Plus the last one he wore he still has to get all the lipstick off of it. Anytime he falls asleep here hes developed a fear of shenanigans. Usually it involves lipstick and nail polish.


June opens up her door when she hears Regan singing, and then the wall vanishes when Tasky hits it. "Good god." She looks over. "And good morning?" She looks a little dubious, but this is one of the LESS strange mornings she's had in this building.


"Well normally when people move in they're supposed to get cookies delivered, but I don't do that. But now that I'm living rent free I was consider-" Regan stops her singing to dip one knee in a curtsied greet to Poison Ivy, waving her cell phone laden hand at the wrist in a wave, but the sudden *CRUNCH* of wall has her spinning and nearly stepping a bare shoulder into Ivy in the process. Close call. "-Oh. Emm. Gee."

Regan says 'Oh my god' a lot, and in many ways.

"Morning?" Regan blinks and shuts off her music feed to the cell phone. Regan sucks in a breath and hooks a pinky finger around a stray strand of her long, blonde hair, pulling it back into place. "Wait." Regan looks to June, then Ivy, then Task. "Tee? Are you turning your place into a double-wide? How much will it take for you to do mine, too?"


Poison Ivy casually brushes a splinter off as the wall takes the hit. "Hello Taskmaster. You're gonna make me happy and recycle right?" Smiling at him as she makes her request as it were. "I can help with the clean up. Make sure things go where they must." Back to Regan, "I could go for some cookies, I would offer to bake but doubt we all have the same sweet tooth." She motions to her place. "I tore out half the ceiling of mine to let more natural light in. I figured if we're taking the building, TAKE the building. Nobody will mind. Some of our downstairs neighbors are thinking of moving out suddenly and others are feeling a desir to get guns to help protect this special home." Few can resist Ivy when she dials up the perfume. "You settling in alright June?"


"Yes, too many walls. Too much room for us. Gives too many blindspots, I'll make each of our lofts bigger and add in some essentials." The maul is rested against his shoulder, held there as they start to talk. The loud sounds of what might be Iced Earth in the background drowned out as he closes the door. Must be a wall still intact somewhere between them and the stereo system.

A slow look is given Regan, from toe to head. "You sleep in the most amazing positions and places. I wish I had that talent."

"Neat trick, Ivy. What did you do put them in pods or feed them something extra?" He'll take the offer for help to clean up when its ready. Soon. No mention to recycle or not.

"Doc." He offers June.


"There used to be a place in college that delivered cookies. I miss them." June comments. "Didn't know you knew construction, Tasky." That gets her to pause and think. "Is there something else we could call you? That sounds…I don't know. Demeaning. A name, even if it's not your real name? Brian? Jack? Todd?"

She thinks a moment. "I could make a quick store run. Cookie dough, recycling bags, and the like."


Regan cants her head in a slow, dark-lashed look to Taskmaster. "That's because I put it in your head that I wasn't on the other side of the apartment with a crossbow, sugar." Regan winks.

Though, really, all of it is news to her. The itch beneath her skin shows a little, curiosity peaking her ears as she looks away with her cool intact. CHANGE. THE. LOCKS.

"I know nothing about cooking. If you're looking for an unused oven, you can use mine. I used to hide money in there." Regan comments to the others, reaching back past the line of skin at her hips to rub at her now healed crescent-moon of a tattoo. "So we're adding essentials now, too? Because after cookies I want to plan out putting in more room for my yoga mats and a whole shitload of mirrors. Oh, and Task?" Regan looks back to the man with lofted brows. "I like that Slayer stuff you're playing, can I get a copy? You and Rose are all about that stuff and I might wanna give it a listen."


Poison Ivy shakes her head, "I don't need a pod for something that easy. Just blew them a kiss, or a flower delivery of my special plant as a 'gift' and they were mine. Enthralling the average person is really rather easy." She is pleased to hear June's comment about recycling, "I could always give anyone interested a set of sorting bins for trash. Maybe I could talk that young boy on 4B to sort our waste for us all." Figuring that will go better then asking this crew to do it themselves. "We could always get you a new boytoy or maid if you want Regan. I'm sure I could drum up a drone for you, assuming you don't want to play with one of your own making." She points to her room, "By the by I will keep some of my coffee on hand for you all. You seemed to enjoy it."


"Huh, that easy?" Taskmaster stares at Ivy. Shes the newcomer, he trusts her almost as much as Enchantress. Though, Harley vouches for her and so far she hasn't been all that bad, honest to a fault.

"Slayer? I can give you a mix of things. Rose likes Metal? I suppose its good kill music."

"This isn't construction, Doc. I'm just hitting things where it makes the most impact and doesn't take out anything important. I'm good at that. The construction will be some jackasses we hire to come in here, clean up and make magic happen." He supposes hire could go anyway. Coerced, blackmailed, threatened, botany power enticed. "Thats some menial shit I am worth way too much for. I already busted my ass on a training room thats as far as I go."

He double takes at Regan, a whispered recall in to his ear, "Stay out of my head." A firm warning. He isn't sure if shes joking or not really. He just remembers the sound of her hushed tone when she discovered something very important and very hidden.
June replies "I can make cookies. I'm no high-end chef, but I can at least do that much. I've got an oven in my place, so I probably won't need another. Not unless we were doing some massive meal for everyone. How is the recovery plant going, Ivy? Tasky mentions training and all I have are nightmares of rubber bullets."

"I know, I know, no one wants me in their heads." Regan replies with a flutter of hand that rattles bracelets around. "Even if, for the record, I could make everyone think this place was the Taj Mahal we've stolen, but I don't want to be strangled in my sleep so…" Regan snaps and turns, lifting one knee to plant half of a seven hundred dollar pair of boots against the wall, and her shoulders. "…offer remains. I love what I do."

Regan lifts her phone and begins tapping on the screen with her thumb.

"I don't need a maid or a boytoy, and no offense but drones aren't my thing? I just want what any reasonable girl my age wants. A massive closet, bath bombs, and whatever I want whenever I want it. Which, I'm not above asking nicely for coffee, Ivy." Regan slides her phone over to June, which is loaded on a delivery grocer's ordering screen. Leaning over, Regan whispers to June. "Get as much as you want. It's…" Regan circles a finger around the screen. "…covered. Money not an issue, June."
Poison Ivy offers to Taskmaster, "I know a girl. She's good at fudging city records, works with our kind, takes cash, and knows the value of a break-away wall escape. We could always give her a call. She'd love a big project like this and understands both 'bamboo floor with Italian tile' and 'dirty poured concrete' as looks." She wants to encourage June, "I think that sounds lovely. I wouldn't mind some cookies and a snack." Not quiet a thank you but criminals aren't often big on gratitude. "This place is starting to come into focus, just hope Bat and friends don't come to sniff around. But even he would need help to roust us all I think." The door to Ivy's opens as a long vine reaches out holding a small sealed container of black beans. The vine hands it to Ivy, gets a loving stroke from the woman and retreats to close her door. "Here you go, Regan." Offering the coffee beans. "Should be good for at least a week."
"Peanut butter cookies?" Taskmaster oddly sounds interested in those a random out of the blue question to June Moone. Maybe some memory attached to them.

"You don't need servants, toots? Thats a first I've heard. Thought you were all about sitting on your cute little ass making everyone else dance for you." He actually has no idea she is a member of the Hellfire Club. He isn't even sure hes done work for those sorts before - of all the secret societies he's helped out its a surprise.

The maul is tossed in to the room with a floor pounding THUD that gets neighbors below looking fearfully up. The wife glances over at the husband and shakes her head in warning, a slow thing a fearful thing. They just wanted a nice quiet newlywed life in Gotham. They heard the stories when they moved in from Coast City but they never realized just how awful it really was, no matter what sort of promotions her husband gets from Wayne Enterprises it cannot be worth this amount of daily stress. She seriously believes there is costumed super villains living above them and her own mom and sister-in-law wont even believe her.

Back upstairs…
"I had some guys but you call yours, we'll use her instead, Ivy. Sounds like it might be a better idea."


"Actually, I thought your powers were kind of awesome, Regan. I'm all in favor of them." June starts poking at the phone interface. She'll start with cookie dough, but order some other sorts of things that she thinks the Squad might like. "And sure, I can get peanut butter cookies too. Anyone have any dietary no-nos I need to know about?"

"Besides, what's wrong with having servants? I mean, I'm not necessarily all "yay, drone", but there's nothing wrong with having some people who help keep the place up."

"Thank you, Miss Ivy." Regan plucks the bag of coffee from the taller woman and presses it to her chest, a cherished thing, "And thank you, June. I appreciate that. We'll have lunch today on a gondola ride down the canals in Venice and whoever doesn't want to come doesn't have to." Regan twists her hips in a little dance and then leaves her phone with June, scampering over to Taskmaster.

"I should have clarified, Taskmaster. I don't need servants right now." Regan stops before the man and opens the bag of coffee so that he can smell. "Point in case? When I had my sixteenth birthday? My father rented a hotel and a bunch of Premiere League footballers were there, Cher Llord performed, and all I had to do was this," Regan sticks her hand out to the side. "and I got a drink in my hand. What's every little girl's go-to Halloween costume until they're in high school? Princess. And I don't have to pull a trigger to make my dreams come true but I do-" Regan extends a finger to poke his chest. "-treat people kindly who respect this about me. I share when I'm feeling generous."

Regan looks down the hall to Ivy and June with a broad grin framed by large, hoop earrings.

"All those in favor of this place being run by the resident ladies, say aye." Regan grins. "Aye."


Poison Ivy nods to Taskmaster, "Sure I'll give her a call and tell her we got a rush job. She'll want money up front soon but I bet that won't be too hard for us if we pool resources or bill Satan." She watches the maul land and glance downstairs, lips pressing together a moment as she makes a mental note. "I prefer organic, obviously June. You all should if you knew what you were eating," the green woman clicks her tongue in disgust at what counts a 'food' in this country. "And June if you want I can help get you a nice little personal assistant," we won't call it a drone." She almost laughs in amusement at Regan's suggestion, "aye. And I just would worry about the 'false signals' your powers may cause mine to respond to mostly."
"I get it. You're pampered and have no problem selling your /cuteness/ at any age for what you want." Taskmaster taunts Regan as she jabs him in the chest with a finger. He is grinning openly under the mask. It matches the outside and meets his eyes. A shine in their dark depths. It's not like he can say he hasn't drank the koolaid though, that would just make him a hypocrite.

"Peanut butter." He says with affirmation to June, "That would… I would owe you. It's been a long time since I had homemade peanut butter cookies." He is hung up on those.

Good, yeah, may as well put her on a tab or something because we're going to be doing some damage to this place. especially if we get discovered by anyone."


"That sounds freaking AWESOME, Regan." June honestly seems excited, which for the bottle that holds the witch is pretty rare. "It's like the most immersive movie out there. And I'll make sure to pick up organic, Ivy. That's easy enough." Well, it's easy enough when she doesn't have to worry about money. "An assistant for ME isn't anything we need. But someone to clean up would be cool. I did dishes while people were away, but…uh…neat we're not."

Tasky gets looked at, with an actual smile. "You don't owe me anything. You're trying to teach me how to not get my ass kicked. The least I can do is make you some cookies." She grins at the thought. "I'll even order extra milk."


"I'm easy going on cookies, June. I'll only have a couple. Whatever isn't poisoned." Regan looks over her shoulder to June with a rictus grin and a clack of her bootheels together. "And no, no noNOnoNONO." Regan shakes her head and turns back for June, her back turned to Taskmaster. "You are never doing dishes ever again, even if you love doing them. We'll figure out something, but Waller treats you like an attack dog, and we'll be treating you like royalty. Fuck her. We'll make TattooGuy do dishes or something."

Regan cradles her bag of coffee against her belly and takes a few steps down the hall. She leans in and around her open door, setting the bag of coffee on a nearby table. Yoga-bend. Regan is flexible.

"I can sell my cuteness. My horror. My deadliness. My expression. My artistic sense. My mind. Don't get me wrong, I love that you're tenderizing me now, Taskmaster, but…" Regan steps back into the hall, looking both to him and Ivy, pointedly. "…if we can find a way to keep the vines from strangling me and with a pinch of trust, your brain is the Matrix, and I am the Architect." Regan blinks. "Vis-a-vis, concordantly, ultimately, whatever that guy says. He's ugly and looks like Colonel Sanders."


Poison Ivy much belatedly remembers what June asked about, "That plant to save your soft hide should be ready tomorrow for light use. Not broken limbs but bruises and cuts easily handled. And I can get you a maid. Someone to clean up isn't a bad idea." She will make a few calls and house visits to get everything handled. "Regan is that a movie reference, I…. don't go to those." Pop culture is definitely Ivy's weak point. "Harl tries to show me some from time to time. I just get bored and back to my greenhouse most times. But I can help put more security on the building and our rooms if people wish with my plans. And none of them will 'accidentally' attack any of the group."


"Fair trade system Doc. We don't operate in polite and friendly here." Taskmaster is insistent. He also never responded to any question about his name earlier, Regan shortened it to 'Tee' they can figure something out as well.

The domestic talk is now boring him and it's obvious by the way he is now looking at a cellphone screen, connecting to a Black Market site through the Unternet. New toys. "Tenderizing? What? Oh. Yeah. Tenderizing." Taskmaster mumbles. "Consider me Neo then. Watch your shit when you're in my house. You may be the mind but I am definitely the body." A sidelong look from his screen and he studies Ivy,"Your greenhouse on the roof. You put a lot of your babies in that yet?" Random curiosity it would appear. That or he's making sure where to target if shit hits the fan.


June smiles back at Regan. "I don't need any special treatment, really. Just being treated NORMALLY is enough for me." She snickers at Regan's Matrix imitation. "Does that make me Agent Smith? Well, the /witch/ Agent Smith, anyway. And a maid sounds great, Ivy. Honestly, movie night sounds great."

June looks to Taskmaster yet. "Well, even if we make it fair trade, then we're still even, cause you're already teaching me. So, again, cookies are a small price to pay." She does look over, curiously, to see what he's poking at. "On the other hand, if you could shop me up a bulletproof vest or something, that would be great." She has no clue about hero/villain gear. It's not like there's a Body Armor R' Us.


"It's a movie where humans get computers jacked into their heads and the computers change what they're seeing and feeling. The computer can create any kind of world they want and if the person jacked in dies in the simulation, they die in the real world." Regan's boots CLOP CLOP CLOP down the hall as she approaches June. "Just. Like." Regan sways her hips back and forth, walking like a stripper on purpose. It's all the skills she's learned from Emma Frost by association. "Me."

Regan takes the phone from June and spins, planting her spine against the frame of June's door, and begins flipping through her phone, looking at pictures, most of them selfies of herself.

"I like the idea of a safe room we can do this in. If any of you so dare." Regan grins to herself, sending a few messages out. "Think of all of the training scenarios, Taskmaster. Think of the relaxation. Ivy?" Regan looks up, blinking to the woman. "Shit. You pretty much have everything you want, don't you? What you don't have, you take? Admirable, but gimme something here. Uhm…a world without pollution? I can make that happen."


Poison Ivy nods her head to Task's question. "Some not as much as I like but it takes time to set up a house properly. I've done what I can to make the 'no touchy' plants are for everyone." She can't help but tease June, "What is 'normal' because I honestly have no idea. I'll find you a maid soon." She listens to the movie description, "Sounds like a world I would hate down to my roots." Wrinkling up her nose. She's too much a tree huggerto get into Sci-fi all that much. "I do tend to be pretty self reliant. If you were to try and give me a dream world I would like? Get creative with plants. There was that movie Harl tried to show me with blue people and a rich world of glowing plants."

"Put that on your contractors list then,Ivy. We'll barricade off a room to be our… Simulation Room. If we're setting down 'roots' here we have some time and work to be done."

Taskmaster turns his phone around and shows a listing of stylized gear that is armor for women. Some of it stupid but a lot of it functional, "if it exists there is a market for it. That doesn't ring true just for porn. When you make enough of a name for yourself I'll introduce you to some people."

"Speaking of Satan's not giving us any assignments right now but we have a loose end to bag up." Taskmaster's whole thing is watching. It's what he does and he can't help it. Seeing the 'stripper walk' of Regan has him mesmerized a moment, he learns it and he forgets something about Greece that was important. "Goddamnit, Regan. Quit it." He doesn't need to learn that!

Actually, June blanks a little at Regan's walk, too. Finally, she blinks, and blushing a little, changes the topic to Taskmaster's screen. "Yeah, I just don't know what's good and isn't." June explains. "I defer to an expert. But what the hell…" she stares at the screen. "Why would you wear body armor that shows off your cleavage and your midriff? That's just stupid."


"You know what's funny, Ivy?" Regan tilts her head to side-whisper to the plant woman. Regan grins up to her, wholly ignoring the cursing from Taskmaster she's surely heard. "If he sees someone pole dance, then he knows how to pole dance. So in theory we just need to take him to a taping of Dancing with the Stars and we've got an in-house dance instructor." Regan snickers and goes back to her phone, head bobbing and hips cocking to her own internal club dance beat while she Tweets and sends text messages.

"So, uhm…being someone who didn't use to wear body armor? My normal duds are like ten miles of cleavage to one mile of armor?" Regan chimes in. "That was when every job I did was pretty much…go in, lie, fuck people over, steal their shit, duh-derr-dum guy looks at cleavage and hands me over keys to a Lambo. Dudes get dumb, quick. They can't handle cleavage." Regan smirks and rolls her bared shoulder in her top, getting it to fall back to where it's comfortable. "But now that Satan's sending me into fights with mecha robots n' shit, I'm armoring up and shopping for face armor. Task? Stealin' the mask thing. Fair warning."


Poison Ivy nods to Task, "Easy enough. I'm sure we'll all go over a list or something once she's got the blueprints ready." She does finally laugh as Regan's walk worked so well on Task, "Well done, Lady. We should hit a club together and make all the boys and girls drown in drool." She motions to her own leaf covering, "My 'armor' doesn't cover all the vital points. It comes down to the effect you want to evoke and mobility." She has to smiles down at Regan wider, "WE actually talked about a pole dance competition by the pool one day when talking about what our various abilities are. Can always try to make some Skwad armor. Personalize it because we are all too much an individual for conformity."

"Distractions and freedom of movement. That is all I can come up with on that. Almost defeats the purpose but whatever, I am not a designer." Taskmaster withdraws the phone, a message sent to him that makes him stare up at Regan, "You send that to the wrong person?" He inquires before sliding his thumb over. A skull emoji is all that is sent back.

"Tell me what you want, I can get a guy to work on something and a mask is good. It keeps them from seeing your fear or the fact you keep sticking your tongue out at them. Should learn to keep that in your mouth in fights, its gonna get bit the fuck off." Whether she does that or not is irrelevant, Taskmaster is just taking digs for the hell of it.

"No poles. Just no. We're not creating a strip club or a slum here. Well, not a party slum at least. This is officially a hideout. A home we can gather, connect and work out of. I have plans… " They all have plans. "If we all want extra money and fun, play along. I'm doing my best to do the same." He shoves off the wall and walks through all of them down the hallway, headed towards one of the kitchens that actually has something in it. "I need a drink. A strong one."


June looks embarrassed as both Regan and Ivy go in on defense of cleavage. "Yeah, well, you have to /have/ cleavage to show it. I'm probably better off just focusing on not getting shot in it. Also, holy /crap/, Task. I thought your power was just "being badass". That's an /awesome/ power." She moves to follow Tasky as he starts out. "Money and fun are good." She doesn't mention anything on the pole dancing competition. She wouldn't have a clue.


"I'm with Tee on no poles. I do what I do but I'm not looking to get money tucked in a g-string unless I'm doing it for the only cause I'm willing to do it for: years off my sentence." Regan replies with a nod, looking up from her screen as she sends another text message out, this one with a face-mask design she's seen online. She looks to Ivy, then with a tilt of her head, turns to follow the Taskmaster.

"Oh, but you know what I don't want? To look like I got beat my a redneck husband for years. Which is why I need a mask. Too much shit flying at my face and before long I'm going to look like I faceplanted on a cactus." Regan continues her 'walk' down the hall, arms lifting languidly above her head to cross elbows behind her skull, sashay-walking. "But Ivy gets it. That's the skill we bring. Intoxication. Distraction. I can stick my tongue out plenty then to get us all home alive, whatever you plan is, but with a mask on I can talk all I want without getting teeth punched out." Regan grins.

"Sounds logical, right? I'm not crazy, right, June?"


Poison Ivy states, "No poles for dancing, and no masks for me. I like people to see my face. Plus for me the more skin I show the more of a 'weapon' I can be." Fingers dance in the air as she smiles at them. "A good manicure and a scratch is all I normally need." She glances at June and surprisingly says, "I can relate." She means about cleavage but won't elaborate. "Don't worry, Doctor. I'm sure you can grow into your own. And you and Regan can both use tha plant. Long as you go to her and she opens up she should be able to help. If she doesn't, then she's resting and needs time to recharge still. Bruises don't go with most look or oufits after all." She does consider, "Maybe a small hand crossbow with high power Task. To punch through the other guy's armor if we must."


"Armor is no problem. You pay me a cut and I'll make sure you're well equipped." Taskmaster says, the text of images is taken and stashed in a listing. He'll forward them later to either Wizard or Fixer. "They're expensive. Trust me you'll want to bring your purse."

The kitchen now their current location he throws open a cupboard and begins fishing through the army of standing bottles, so much vodka, why does Rose love vodka so much? Disgusting. "You learn to take a punch right or not at all and you'll keep your teeth as well."

"Doc, same goes for you. You want armor that isn't held together by shrubbery, you let me know. No offense, Red. I imagine a daisy is awesome protection against shrapnel after all." Maybe he is mocking her a little bit. Just maybe. But thats what he does. "I have a crossbow in my armory you can have, for a price, the usual. You give me something I give it to you. I never use it anyways, I stole it from an archer I killed. He thought he could outshoot me. He didn't have half the skills of one of those jackasses from Star City or even Hawkeye. It was a sad show."

"Sounds good to me." June agrees with Regan. "I'm not really sure what would happen to /me/ if the witch got hurt. I'm not sure she /can/ get hurt. But not getting scars is a good idea all around. Plus, on a team with Harley, I don't think we can call anyone else crazy." She follows after. "The plant to heal up is a good idea, Ivy…but I'd as soon not get hurt in the first place."

Into the kitchen she goes, and replies to Taskmaster. "Err. I'll probably need to actually MAKE some money. Neither being an archaeologist nor being Waller's attack dog comes with much of a paycheck."


"I can take a punch in the face." Regan pfffts as she follows, face down in her phone. Untested theory. No one's punched her in the face, yet, not that they've seen. "I just don't want to look like I've been punched in the face a whole lot, because I don't want to have to brain-tease everyone into thinking I don't look like I've been punched in the face." Regan stops while Taskmaster rifles through the bottles to plant her boot in his backside for a little shove. "And the first time I go into the plant to heal, I'm gonna need to be crazy drunk. No offense, Ivy. Crazy. Drunk."

Regan presses SEND on a message to Rose Wilson and sighs, looking up. "Anyone needs money, I can help with that. I don't need the money but I like making money, well, taking it. Quid pro quo. I get to grift people and you get money for it, everyone wins," Regan taps her wrists together and haaaaa's a fake cheer. "Hooray."


Poison Ivy deadpans at Task, "What is wrog with shrubbery armor?" Voice cold and flat but her lips curled at an almost smile. "There are many plants good for protection, both ballistic and edged defense." When Harley comes up Ivy can't stop herself from saying, "She is both less and more crazy then I suspect any of you think. And I understand June, accidents happen." Far as money, Ivy doesn't noramlly sweat it. When she needs it, she can get it. "I could make you 'drunk' without the hangover when it comes to that. Just blow a kiss and you'll be calm and ready."


"Brain-tease or mind rape?" Taskmaster inquires bluntly as he starts setting down a glass, a couple of them juggled in his fingers to also clank down. Jack Daniels being poured in to them.

"I don't like what you can do to minds Regan, it makes you questionable but I do like when you do it to others." He admits, "I can spot you. Fair trade. You will only owe me later." He is serious there plus its for their welfare that June lives. Maybe. She dies maybe Enchantress dies?

"All it takes for them to be calm and ready, really? You use that often, Red?" More of that teasing before he is sliding each of them their own filled glass. "I'll stick to the journey. Not the shortcut. Its part of the fun."


"Damn, that's a little harsh, Tasky. Regan can't control that she was born with powers any more than I can control having a witch inside. If we're going to work together, maybe a /touch/ less with the judgy?" June replies. "And any donations very welcome, Regan. I'm a broke ex-college student. Graduate school eats money like WHOA."

"When I think of stepping inside of a biological organism, my mind goes to digestion, so, I would appreciate that, Ivy." Regan lowers her phone to her belly and looks up and over to the taller, greener woman. Her eyes tilt to Taskmaster and June, listening with a tiny smile peppered to the corner of her mouth, then nods in finality to Poison Ivy. "Because I'm sure, if you told it to, it would eat the body inside, right?" Regan winks, assuming the answer is yes.

"It's okay, June." Regan reaches out to brush a hand over the center of the woman's spine. "Throw what June needs on my tab, Tee, and I'll pay you for it. Just don't ask for too much on top of what they're asking, okay?" Regan adds with a serpentine look in her eyes, directed towards Taskmaster, as she reaches out for her Jack Daniels.

"See, June, like you, like Ivy, like myself," Regan continues. "People fear powers they can't duplicate. That's where this gets so awkward with Taskmaster here. He can duplicate any dance move I show him, but he can't duplicate magic, or pheromone control, or illusions. Sure, he can put a bullet in our heads to make them go away, but he can't duplicate them, which is why humans." Regan throws the word out as if she's not one of them. "Fear evolved creatures like us."


Poison Ivy mimes a blown kiss at Task, but no special pollen to it. "You are quite the spitfire, June. Sticking up for Regan and the 'gifted' such as her and others." She seems to approve of June showing some more backbone. "All plants 'eat' organic material Regan. But if someone 'dies' in my special flower she tends to put the corpse at the roots to let nature do what she will. She doesn't 'eat' there. That is not her mouth. Now 'Chomps' he eats in the pod but you can't mix them up." She puts her hands together at the heel and makes a 'bite' motion with fingers interlocking. "The big big thorns that look like teeth are a giveaway." She doesn't have a great view of 'Humanity' as whole. "Ton't worry, girls. Taskmaster here may be mercenary but he is no Lex Luthor."
"Fear evolved creatures? You think we're so evolved a human can't put a leash on all of you?" Taskmaster's head cranes to the side and his drink slides under his nask, "You forget what our job is already? Your words are getting mighty bold."
The mercenary leans in to the island, one hand down beside him as the other holds his glass, studying them as they talk. "I wager a bullet to any of you anyday, if it comes down to a quickdraw each one of you is dead meat."

"I am no Lex Luthor? What is that supposed to mean?" He lets the question hang before his phone is picked up, items being swiped to buy for June and Regan. He is of course going to take his cut. Middleman's share.


"Don't know if I should be insulted, feel threatened… Or take a joke." Rose states. How long she had been standing there is unknown, because she could easily have been around the corner and tuning in, none the less as she passes by and into the kitchen a bag is dropped on an empty chair, a light lean to see what Task is swiping on the phone.

"June get's pink. Neon. Pink." A wink to the archaeological disaster of epic proportions. A smirk and she glances to Ivy, a brow lightly up-ticked while Regan's own light jabs an boasting get a click of tongue behind clicked teeth.

"Not many of us puny humans like what we can't be or explain. That's what makes puny-like-us step up the game." Know fear? No fear.


"Homo Superior is just as capable as having weak points as Homo Sapiens." Regan pauses for a sip from her glass, eyes trailing Rose on the way to Taskmaster while she's caught red-handed being a bitch about things. One eye winks as she swallows, smiling past the burn of the whiskey. "And don't get all upset, you two. I never said either of you two were puny. You're not some grocery bagger at Trader Joe's and you know it. You're above, which is why Satan isn't hiring retired Marines and is collecting us. Including you."

The lower hem of Regan's skirt shifts as she lifts a boot and places it on the lower rung of the island for balance while she leans back, smirking into her whiskey. Up comes the phone again, swiping and textin.

"Don't mind me. My kind have been fighting against genocide for nearly forty years, longer, depending on who you ask, but you know how they say everyone's gonna have mocha colored skin and black hair in two-thousand years?" Regan winks. "They're gonna be able to set shit on fire, too."


"She hires those too. They just don't last." Taskmaster counters as Rose joins them, a nod at the Junes being pink. "No. Regan's already going for pink. We're not mixing up colors. It causes confusion we don't need."

A look down at Regan's leg, the eyebrow raise goes unseen but he pauses in his texting to stare at extra pictures. A grunt escaping him. A picture of his own sent back, a skully emoji attached. It came out of his Africa file. Maybe a dead African Warlord?

"Your kind is capable of handling themselves, they just need more unity to be a real threat. But isnt that what some of you tried? I imagine the paycheck there would be… outstanding. Thats almost a war worth inspiring for the fat check alone."


June looks around at the others. "Errr…I'd weigh in on the side of "normal human". I mean, as soon as I get Enchantress out of me, I plan to go on to have a long, boring life of digging in the desert." She looks over at Regan. "Pink? Seriously? Yeah, I'll vote for any color OTHER than pink. Color. Not pattern. I don't want to be plaid."


"Fine, neon clear." Even as Rose says it her tone has a slurr somewhat like Sid the Sloth's. The smile can remain unseen, her back to them as she gets a glass out of the cabinet and her own bottle. Also… Clear. Don't hate. Potatoes for lunch/dinner.

"It takes a lot of dirt digging and bombs put in places to get assholes like us to work together," I'm a barbie girl,
in a barbie wooorrlldd…

Cell phone untucked from her pocket she opens it and with a hunch of shoulders let the hunt begin. "So far so good is the most sarcastic thing I can say to how that's really working out.
Poison Ivy says, "of course you can draw faster then most of us Tasks, let's not get into a pissing contest over who is more bad ass." Then there is a Rose and she looks over to the one eyed woman, "I deal with 'normal humans' a lot more then the meta-types. Think of those I tend to room with in Arkham." Most of them are 'baseline' humans after all. "And I'm not technically Homo Superior either." She suggests to June, "Stick to Jungles and Rain Forests, better climates as a rule."
"What, pink, me?" Regan points her finger to herself, brows shooting high in her best 'oh no you di-int'. Her head shakes left to right, blonde strands swaying. "Dark pink a-k-a purple? Yes, but pink is a weak color. Absolutely not. Not my for-tay." Regan smirks, lip twisting against the rim of her glass while she reads on her phone.

"Who says we're not trying it?" Regan throws down seeds of conspiracy. "Or quietly wiggling in. You know, people like me can look just like world leaders." Regan winks, then playfully lifts a middle finger towards Rose and dips her head to her glass for another sip. The phone lifts, as well, and mid sip, she sputters the liquor, then swallows it.

"June." Regan rasps as she shuts her phone off and wipes at her lips with her forearm. "…you'd be wasted on digging through mud. I'll never let that happen."


"Pissing contest? No. Its a warning. We're not friends here, Ivy. Not a single one of us." He says quietly and clearly, "You all want to start talking about your powers and how it inspires fear in 'my kind' expect me to fire back. It's just the way of it." Taskmaster maintains, "Fair trade. It's not just something I keep saying because I want to start a produce market." His head cranes, his phone skittering across the tabletop as he refills himself. "I admit though, you're all growing on me. Maybe the closest thing I have to friends… " As far as he remembers, hes got pals out there but theyd shoot or stab him or fuck him over just as quick as he would them.

June looks around, a little troubled. "Guys, come on. Let's not fight." June IS the sort to consider these people friends, even when it's a bad idea. "We're supposed to be working together. Arguing isn't going to help anything, it's just going to make us tense. We're all in this together." She pauses, and then tries "Besides, cookies?" Cookies help everything, right?

Poison Ivy goes silent, those green eyes taking each of them in turn. The plant woman tapping her leg in silent thought as she gauges all that has recently been said. She last looks to June and the pleading for cooperation she gives, "We're not about to go to proverbial blows. Not yet. Besides Satan still has her hooks in most of us, and cookies sound good. Especially Peanut Butter ones." She cocks a hip and tries to force hre body language to be more relaxed.
A low, purring sound escapes Regan. Her eyes look to the left, then up and around, before she watches the cell phone slide away from Taskmaster. The throaty sound is like something a girl like her would make looking at baby kitten photos, only, in Regan's case, is something half-demeaning. Then? The low, sarcastic lashes and the droning sound comes to a stop.

Regan sets her glass down and clears her throat, suddenly looking uneasy. She looks to her feet, then over to June, for hope.

"Guys." Regan rolls her eyes at herself. "I'm…look I'm being a bitch right now and I owe you an apology, but…not really, I don't know, the mutant thing is who I am." Regan rubs at her forehead and bites down on her cheek, which hollows it, then is set free. "I don't want us to have to hurt each other either and I've never had friends so…if my shit gets too wired and you need me to walk away sometimes, just say so." Regan avoids their gaze. "You're the closest I've got, too. Fuck Satan and this job, but I don't us linking up. Not for now."


June looks to Regan. "It's okay. Really." She'll step up to the blonde and, if allowed, will actually give her a reassuring hug.

Poison Ivy says, "Don't apologize Regan. If we were the sort to 'hug it out' we'd be house wives or bar regulars and watching daytime TV. Like you, I have trouble relating to humans, all humans." Save maybe one crazy blonde. "There's reasons why I go to the jungles, forrests, and my secret gardens sometimes." She then has to smile at June, "What? No hug for the plant woman who heals you after ou are black and blue?"


Nah… fuck the glass, it gets put right back into the cabinet and she takes a pull from the bottle, the cell phone stuffed back into her pocket, the words exchanged are now met with an about face to prop denim clad ass on the counter edge in lean.

Regan's words get a look from Rose… One that is gone with a blink, lashes a veil over what was once there and just as quickly gone. Each is given a flick of the single azure eye and she looks down. "Don't know Green Thumb quite yet, June, your alter ego pisses me off. You? I'm cool. Taskmaster. Fuck you, still. Present company is all I'll share-and-care with, but if having a place together, fighting together and possibly dying together doesn't say anything?" There's so much more in Rose's tone, but with a clear of throat she thumps her chest with her fist and takes another long pull.

Gone with a drink, just like the blink.

Regan leans into June with eyes closed and wraps the shorter woman in a hug. She squeezes and sighs, loud enough to be heard. "I'll deny it if you tell anyone outside of this room that I said that." Regan smirks weakly and releases June, turning to pluck the fabric of her skirt around the thigh to hold it up for a walk over to a chair. "On a human level, you people keep me from acting like everyone's someone I have to choke until I get my money." Regan turns and flops into a chair, head tilted back towards the ceiling. "But we've all got our likes and dislikes about each other. The important thing is, that right now, when someone points a gun at one of us, we're all pointing our guns at that person. Right?"

June smirks a little at Ivy. "I don't think hugging you would be good for my health. And Rose, I'm sorry, believe me. I don't like her any better than anyone else does. But there's not really a good way to get rid of her that I know. Or I would." She then looks over to Regan. "Don't worry. I'll have cookies soon."


"Maybe in a few, Regan. I need to get sauced first." Taskmaster replies to the blonde…

Continued in

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