Suicide Squad: Madripoor Shuffle (pt. 1)

June 09, 2017:

The Suicide Squad is deployed to finish off Baht Goh in Madripoor.


NPCs: China White, Mister X, Ragun Crew, Baht Goh, Amanda Waller



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

A beautiful sunny Madripoor…

"You'll not find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." A saying that never held more true (unless perhaps you count Bagalia).

The small island principality between Singapore and Sumatra located in the Indonesian archipelago. This tropic and jungle island is a hotspot for the world's most despicable and wildly influential. Just about every underground network of 'evil' has their fingers in the trade hub that is Madripoor. The island itself has little to nothing for export but it's location, it's neutrality and it's history leave it a rich point of interest, a sanctuary for piracy and villainy in the modern era. The 'Tortuga of Today' it has been heralded.

A month ago the Suicide Squad killed a man named 'Ajay' this man was the youngest of the Goh Brothers. Head of the Tri-City branch of the Soaring Monkey Triad which, though they claim to be Triad they are not. The remain unrecognized but today wish to change that, the Goh Brothers Tong wishes to be fully recognized as the Soaring Monkey Triad by the /Originals/. With their recent acquisition of advanced technology this may very well come to pass.

Amanda Waller's briefing was short before their departure yesterday morning, "You will enter Madripoor and execute Baht "The Pistol" Goh within the next 72 hours. We are unaware of the opposition you face but this operation is an illegal strike on foreign soil standard procedures are to follow which mean, quite simply if you are to become compromised in any way you will be disavowed."
Sling around 'The Wall's arm and injured she still looked fierce as always. Those cold dark eyes making sure each face gets a long stare. Time to squirm under her attentions.

"Once you have killed Baht and any possible forces that may get in your way you have exactly one week, that is 168 hours to sort your affairs. Do not be a minute late. If you are not here in Belle Reve standing directly in front of me within the allotted time frame consider yourself a fucked. Royally."
"Don't fail me, Task Force X."

The Squad was dropped off outside of Madripoor in the Sumatra island clusters. From there they were driven in on an 80-foot Elco-type PT boat known as the Ragun. The captain of it a man in a green military vest that looks strikingly like Ving Rhames. Throughout the fast paced and entertaining ride they also met Levi (a Chinese-British descended vulgar and racist gunbunny), their tech guy Benji and their 'intern' Okajimo. An interesting crew and a regular employ of TFX. Local transport experts and professionals that get the job done.
The slow roll cutting through Dagger Bay (a flotilla of fishermens sail boats), on through the harbor and in to the divide that is nesstled between High and Low Town distracts, the Madripoor Harbor.
Washing to a halt on the docks the loud external and modified speakers of the Ragun blares music: ( ) . The crew of the PT boat doesn't seem to care what those around them think about the noise, those who hear it don't bother to intrude, that speaks to the reputation of these mercenaries.
The jean shorts wearing Levi tied the vessel off and gave a parting, "Good luck you sorry yankee fucks." Evac check in points have been designated around Low Town for the Suicide Squad but they like all things in this mission had a timer until they are not an option anymore.

Where is Task Force X's Suicide Squad's destination? The Madripoor Pearl. The most recent High Town structure, an impressive thing boasting thousands of luxury rooms, an exhibition and shopping center that combined stretch an entire mile, an indoor amusement park, four concert halls, a dozen restaurants and the world's largest casino overlooking the waters and clustering of Madripoor Bay 700 feet below.

Yes, the Pearl is a supposed neutral zone and a black out location. The security here is set up to protect proceedings within more so than the safety of the people within. They are essentially 'on the payrole' - for the most part. Each of them is geared up in light armored helmets, chest plates and modified carbines. Electro-batons are standard issue. None of them look like they are playing around.Entry in to the Pearl is or should be a simple thing. Passport, weapons check, scan. If these are not processed there is no entry.

Each Squad member is expected to find a way in. The known location of Baht Goh is in the Casino's VP suites. Which one is yet another question. Not only will he be protected by members of his brotherhood as holds the rank of I-Chings 438 he is also supposed to be meeting with old world and mainland China Triad to officiate trade and establish the Soaring Monkeys as full brethren. A monumental day for the Goh Brothers. It will be a day to go down in history for them.


Regan Wyngarde, at the start of her tenure with Task Force X, was loud, overconfident, unprofessional. Not that she could ever shake of being these three things, she's had enough close brushes with death to change her game a little bit. Now sporting a few extra pounds of muscle due to 'off the clock' training, she's silent, even through Waller's briefing, give or take a few casual times she's caught glancing at Waller's arm in a sling.

I remember when my arm was in a sling.
You put me in one.
Be still, my sympathy.

Sadly, Regan sets aside her body armor, her mask, her guns, her knives for what tends to be a growing role for her on the team: The insider. Passports prepared and luggage checked, Regan arrives from within the city as a bored, rich socialite college student. The round trip to the airport to hired local security has her slipping out of the taxicab and into the casino's hotel, where she has booked a suite under a pseudonym.

A short time later, Regan is slinking down to the casino in a backless, black dress, eyeliner on thick, with a clutch purse tied around her wrist.

Vamping…is what it's called, and while she stirs the olive in her martini and plays blackjack, she keeps her eyes open for the mark.


[OOC] Regan Wyngarde says, ""
Bane sits in the PT boat, gently rocking as the craft maneuvers through the waters. Although he at first asked the price of meeting his father as payment for working for Task Force X, he has begun to realize something else. Every mission drives him towards a great discipline and understanding of himself, and perhaps this is what he had sought when he had requested assistance in reuniting with his long gone paternal parent. However. A price is still a price, and it is an issue of respect. And as he attempts to surmount this difficult challenge, he will keep this in mind. The American government's debt to him grows, and he will collect on it one day. He hopes they will see things his way, and do it on the terms he requested. He would hate to renegotiate the contract.

Bane climbs off the side of the boat and onto the dock, past Levi, with a quiet grunt of offense at being called American. Slowly, Bane casts his gaze upwards beneath the bright sun of Madripoor, taking in a slow, deep breath. The humid air, the tropical salt, the thick musk of tropical soil and jungle foliage. It is invigorating. His hands briefly ball into fists, squeezing fingers into palm, flexing his body, before he relaxes. The upright hulking golem begins walking along, his steel toed boots giving him a kick, as he moves out from among the fisherman of Indonesia and their junks, heading into the city proper. He watches the Madripoor Pearl seven hundred feet above for a few brief moments, before he disappears into the city, making no attempt at hiding himself.

He is Bane. He is a rockstar here.

Today's selection of wardrobe shows that Harley is in one of her less playful moods. Mind you, when on mission, she often is. Red and black leather alternate along her curves, the diamond motif she loves dotted here and there. Two machine pistols are slung on her hips like some wild west cowboy with a love of modern gunnery. She twists and turns, making sure she looks good, she has no false belief that she isn't eye candy and even relishes the notion.

Once satisfied that she looks perfect, she wanders along the edge of the boat, looking out to their destination. She notices Bane's displeasure at being called American and smiles. "Well, South and Central America are still technically Americas, sweety, so he ain't actually wrong," she tells him, though it's not likely very helpful. She blows a kiss to her team-mates, a wink and a waggle of fingers to TaskMaster, and then she's off.

Harley doesn't do subtle. Unlike Bane, who disappears in the city, Harley strides along; hips swaying, hair bobbing with each step. Okay, she's walking along with her bat on her shoulder and her guns on full display (the ones on her hips! the other guns are only partially on display) making her way to the Pearl


The casino is magnificent as can be expected. Royalty could lick off the floors here and come away shining. High vaulted windows that stretch between supports reach three entire levels. The an inside balcony overlooks the two lower floors. The length of the casino itself would require standing on top one of the higher tables to actually see the other end. It is crowded and those gathered are some of the wealthiest individuals in the world, hola hoop internet sensation Bambi a redhead popular for her assets is an oddly favored attraction to one side near the arcade entry. Standing on a lit up dance dance machine she has a crowd of fanboys.

The Scorcher I,II, III, IV, V, VI: Global Meltdown cast and stars are signing autographs at another section of the casino, drunken and wild they have an entire area sectioned off by a banister.
Regan's not without getting her own attention as men wander by, catcall or hold out dice for her to blow upon. One of them being so bold as to slip a card in to her purse.

VIP section is above, up that balcony past an armed guard. A Sig Saur m11 9mm holstered at his chest, a knife strapped to his ankle. Regan has been advised to be on the look out for such things.

Bane is quite simply not 'fucked with' while he disappears in to the streets of Madripoor. The Pearl is not a hard target to miss whether that is his immediate destination or not. Communication within the team has been sketchy since they have all went their own directions. How they appear at the Pearl is entirely upon each and every one of them.

Harley gets a grin from Levi. "I like you the most." She says before lighting up a cigarette, "You're a weird bitch but I like you the most." The woman repeats, shes drunk. Its not unusual. The Squad all but forgotten to the PT Boat's crew once they're wharfside.
Like Bane and Regan Harley gets her own mixed attention, many don't know what to make of her while others are flat out taking pictures or oogling.

Taskmaster spent a portion of his time below decks, not bothering to surface the entire shaky ride until they're all headed inland, a Hawaiian style shirt that is blue, light blue and white lined with palm trees decked out acros shis broad shoulders, a rounded belly added, bald cap and make up with hornrim glasses. He looks like Al Bundy on vacation. He'll fade like the others and make way for the Pearl. Regan of course the infiltrator already should be there.
Current Casino music
Poor Regan and her hacked cloud account. The throwaway smartphone she's been using uploads every picture taken to the cloud, for safe storage, which is exactly the sort of thing that terrorized a celebrity Regan often masquerades as: Jennifer Lawrence (or, Jennifer Free Clothing, as Regan often refers to her as).

If it weren't for the fact that Regan was working, she'd appear to not be working at all, bouncing her hip in a long-legged, high-heeled walk around the floor to take selfies of herself (with the VIP lounge in the background), pose for autographs with celebrities (Guard, with gun, on balcony, in corner of picture). By one drink in, Regan's playing socialite, pressing her body against the arm of the men whose dice she blows upon, complimenting them and ignoring their wedding bands.

And each image…uploads to the cloud account her team has access to.

Now, if only Regan could get access to the lounge. She glances up there, seeking a mark that might take her in. The gambling tables overlooked by the balcony become her perch, where she turns her back, exposing the long line of skin to the balcony, fishing for bad-guys.

Soon, Bane has what he's looking for. At a nearby restaurant, an eighteen wheeler is present, from a distributor operating out of a warehousing chain on the outskirts of the island. The food for the restaurant, and several other eateries, is held inside the truck, present sitting in a parking lot near the building after a delivery. Bane walks towards the truck's cab, slowly, the driver looking towards him and slacking his jaw, slowly. Bane reaches up, with a huge hand, and opens the door, before he grabs the driver and pulls him out of his seat. Bane sets the driver down on his feet opposite himself and the cab, before he climbs into the truck and slams the door shut. There's a belch of smoke from the smokestacks as Bane shifts the diesel engine into drive, and pulls out of the restaurant parking lot.


Harley loves the attention, blowing kisses and waving to the onlookers as she walks by. She hums a happy tune as she bounces blithely. She makes no bones about the fact that she is walking straight for the Pearl, waltzing in the front door. Literally! She holds her bat like a lover and 1-2-3's into the lobby of the resplendent casino.

If anyone tries to stop her, she just smiles and tells them that she's is here for the comic convention and do they like her outfit. She askes them if she makes a convincing Harley Quinn, spinning around for them and batting her big blue eyes. Sure, there isn't a comic convention here, this place is way too classy. But between the T&A and her smile and vapid behavior, most people pass her off as a stupid American. Thank you for the idea, Levi.

Seeing the cast from the Scorcher series, Harley makes her way over and sees if her charms will get her in with them. The weapons might not say groupie, so it's a longshot, but hey! It's a casino! If you aren't gonna gamble here, then where?


While Regan makes her rounds seeking a mark she will find a potential, a man who has come up and down from the VIP lounge twice now without being stopped, a muscular blonde male, blue eyed and attractive despite his obvious broken several times nose and scars. One of his ears is actually permanently swole, a thing fighters often call cauliflower ear.
His eyes sweep the crowd and he looks restless. Pacing like an animal eager for something to happen. Beyond him Regan will have to wait for a target. Once again dice are shoved up against her face. "You blow. Me win." Maybe a line shes heard before!

Bane's actions remain unopposed, this is Madripoor, people can get killed in broad daylight and most won't step in to or bat a lash. It is simply a state of survival of the fittest.

Harley has no issue on entry, falsefied passports and identities have been provided, dressing up as Cosplay characters here is very popular, shes even seen a tan skinned Wonder Woman walk by and what looked like a female version of Thor. Its simply accepted as atmosphere. Cover fee was the trick but that has been provided as well.
As shes making her rounds a crowd of girls pile on her, "Harley Quinn, Harley Quinn! Your costume is so real!" Hugging and kissing like a party of fans they're taking their own snapshots, hashtags of her flying up to the cloud and beyond.

As best as they can Amanda Waller's overwatch is trying to collect and disperse data as fast as possible, intercept, destroy, its not easy when the team is making themselves obvious but she expects no less from them. They are not her old teams. They are the new Suicide Squad. Expendable maniacs with no connectivity. This could very much look like some personal vendetta after the slaying of Ajay Goh. Who died in his own slobber. A horrible death one that has not been forgotten.

Taskmaster in his as close to Al Bundy disguise as can be arranged is still several floors below, he's not making it through the crowd as easily as Harley or Lady Mastermind. Loosk are not on his side nor novelty. He's just a sloppy American tourist.


Regan's face brightens considerably at the dice lifted to her face. She fans at her chest and sweeps her blonde hair over one shoulder, playing the persona she'll have to take a shower to get out of her system once the day is done. She presses to the arm of the gentleman and gives him a sly grin. "Sometimes." She replies with a wink, then blows on the dice. She waits until he's thrown to press a kiss to the man's cheek.

"I'm going to go to the powder room. I'll look for you." Regan grins to the man and turns, typing a quick message out to the others.

Regan tucks the cell phone into her clutch purse and brushes her hands over the lower hem of her dress. Heels clack-clack upon the floor as she lifts a fresh martini from the tray and sets on a winding pattern that places her in Mr. Cauliflower Ear's way.


Regan squeaks as she makes contact with the man, the martini splashing the front of her dress as she loses her balance, reaching out to grip his shoulder as one heel weakly gives out.

The truck Bane is driving drives towards the Madripoor Pearl, Bane at the wheel, carefully controlling it with his left hand on the wheel, right hand on the shifter. He jostles in the plush polyester seat, hunched slightly forward due to the constraints of the inside of the vehicle. His eyes, narrowed, are pointed right at the casino, heading towards the portion where the long shopping mall is. Of course, there's gates, open walkway concourse, and several layers of mortar, brick, glass, and steel between him, and the inside of the casino.

As Bane gets out of traffic and steams into the parking lot, he takes a slow turn through the lined cars here to use the mall, a screech of metal sounding out as he sheers through a line of parked cars in the process of turning. There's another chuff of exhaust smoke from the pipes behind the cab, as he stomps the accelerator pedal, increasing in speed in a direct line towards the Pearl. With a BUMP, he pops over a curb with the fat tires and people shout in surprise, running away from the incoming truck as he hurtles towards the hotel casino at top speed.


Harley plays the roll the fans are giving her, posing for the selfies and smiling. She even takes a few of her own. #teammeangirls. Boy, when those girls find out that it was the real Harley, they will freak! Which naturally amuses the crap out of the clown queen. She's way too awesome to be just a princess.

She stays close to the cast and crew of the Scorcher series, trying to wave down the star and offering him her lipstick to sign her cleavage. If this doesn't work, she'll find another way up into the VIP area.


The man is on a winning streak as Regan departs he tries to get her attention not to go, he has no clue what she actually said. His English is a fourth or fifth language after all.

Closer now to the VIP stairwell she'll intercept the blonde in the blue dress jacket, tanktop and white pants. Tailor required he looks like he belongs in Miama Vice but as she reaches out, hand landing upon his shoulder she is lifting, sailing high and planting face first in to the nearest table. It is not gentle. It is swift and it is brutal.
The man's grip on her shoulder and arm are prepped to 'break' should he so wish, but instead she can feel his eyes on her backside, that open gap of her dress and he speaks, "You touched me. Why did you touch me? People only touch me if I let them." Not a nice man. Immediately around him people are stopping and staring, mouths open. The little man with the dice she was playing lucky charm to racing over to throw an actual hankerchief at the man, yelling at him in Chinese.
"Upstairs." The blonde clutching Regan says, relaxing his grip to yank her up to her feet and towards the stairs, step by step she will be guided up them and towards the back where Baht Goh; bald head, tattoo neck, fierce eyes sits across from a woman in all whites, full body suit of white and a curvy yet nicely muscled body. The physique of a fighter. Zipper down in the front enough to leave imaginations doorway and white hair framing Asian features, they speak quickly in casual tones.

The VIP lounge is darker, sectioned off neatly so that they all have privacy at booths. Light angled so that it directs away from the eyes, the faces, music sectioned off from below to it's own sounds; ever popular trendy music but music none the less
( ) . Regan will be shoved and pushed towards the booth roughly. At least she made it where she wanted to be.

"Who is this?" Baht Goh asks the scarred blonde in fluent English.
The white haired woman looks Regan up and down, a slow smile forming, "Pretty but bring your toy somewhere else, Mister X."
"She touched me. She had no reason to touch me."
"You are paranoid. Look at her." Goh waves a hand dismissively.
The man they are calling Mister X makes a sound half between a growl and a grunt his fingers release Regan. "Make yourself useful, get me a drink. I may not kill you before the night is over if it's a good one." Dismissed like that. Treated like a lowly peasant. That has to be a raw one.

The Scorcher cast are actually beginning to join some of the fans around Harley, she looks like fun. She has that appeal. It's only when the man of the show himself is walking towards her, lips pursed and his hair pushed off to the side, stalking directly at her with a male model's walk. It's bizarre how close to the guy from Zoolanders he looks like. Even the Magnum fixture of his facial features, "How you doin'?" He asks with as smooth and deep a voice as he can manage, a light twirl to push up against Harley's side and she can smell the overuse of cologne, "You know who I am?"
The movie star's lips push to Harley's ear and he whispers.

THE UNITED STATES…. Things appear to be running smoothly from the monitor hub in Belle Reve, Amanda Waller working through several points until she hears a sound, one of the men to her left turning in his chair to point at the front of the Pearl, "We have a problem, Director, Ma'am."

Waller hurries over to the chair and leans in over the man to stare at the screen, "Son of a bitch. Who is it? Harley?"

"It's Bane."

A frown and she straightens up, tugging her suit jacket down smoothing it as though it will work on her neres also. "Move our team in. Get them ready just in case."
"Right away." taptaptaptaptap.


Taskmaster is finally on the same floor as Regan and Harley, a cup for each hand he walks casually to a slot machine and sits down. Eyes on Harley nothing for Regan…


Regan shrieks as she's up-ended, cheek intimately meeting the table hard enough to bruise. Heels click and hiss against the floor for all of three kicks before she goes still…and stays in character.

"I'mSorryI'mSorryOwOwOwwwwpleasedon't-" Regan whines out all in one, long breath, begging to the large man, eyes filling with unspent tears the same color as the martini she's spilled on her dress. In over her head, she lets the fighter manipulate her, push her to the stairs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. Like…three too many, I didn't mean to offend you, I swear I-"

Regan comes to a stop before Baht Goh, lip quivering at the sight of him. Regan shrinks three sizes smaller, mousily tucking her hair behind her ear and composing herself, cringing at the spent martini on her dress. Her lie is that of a woman who's had an abusive boyfriend before, tucking herself into as small a space as she can fill, apologetic and directed.

"Please don't kill me. I'll make it right, whatever you want, I swear." Regan whimpers as her arm is set free, stumbling a step towards the bar. Swallowing hard, she looks back to Goh and X, face wrapping in an attempt to re-pretty herself as she turns for the liquor.

"As you wish. It was stupid of me. I know." Regan mutters softly to them, reaching for the Cognac, Cointreau, and lemon juice. A Ritz-Paris Sidecar.


Bane decides, just this once, to indulgence in a bit of style. Harley Quinn is along, after all.

Bane reaches up and pulls the cord for the horn, a long bellow emerging from the truck as it steams into the building.

The truck slams through the glass and metal and brick door front to the shopping mall, screams and shrieks throughout the entire mall as he breaches the mall. He slams the brakes and turns the cab to the side, causing the entire truck to skid sidelong and come to a halt, briefly rocking as it threatens to tip. The windshield shattered, the luchador brushes the glass off, his eyes protected by his red goggles. He slowly climbs out of the truck, hopping to the ground off the side with a thud. He arches his back upwards to adjust from the tight confines of the truck, before he reaches to his injector control system.

Bane's muscles bulge as he throws his head back, emitting a roar. Veins stick out, his neck tightens and strains, and his hands clench into knuckle white fists.


Harley Quinn acts the total fangirl as the Scorcher cast approach. Selfies with as many as will let her, kisses to the cheek for the camera and peace signs everywhere. More #teammeangirls, cause it gets her, Reggie and Rosie attention on her instagram. Oh, there's a comment asking for the others. With a reply that they are still getting dressed, more comments fly saying how that's the perfect time to take the pictures!

The star of Scorcher comes over to her. She coos happily, slipping her arms around his waist. "I'm doin' pretty good. How are you doin?" she asks, playing up her twangy voice. She nods her head when he asks if she knows who he is and then leans in as he whispers in her ear. Her smile falters a little as she listens a twitch under her right eye. Oh, that's never good.

Her smile back at him has a touch of the feral in it, like the smiles her hyenas wear. "How do I know you ain't one of them body doubles? I ain't doin' that for some look-alike." She looks around the casino and then seems to just happen to spot the VIP stairs. With a snap of her fingers, she points. "You get us up there, and I'll let you do that. And more."


That solid slab of muscle that just bullied her around is still closely watching Regan. His hard blue eyes following her every action, poison could be slipped in here. Fortunately none of them show any sort of recognition to her. She can now count two guards, a case near Baht and only the white garbed female up here in 'immediate' range.
Mister X though doesn't appear like hes going to stop watching her any time soon.

( ) A muffled crash sound beyond the music. A sound ignored on the casino floor, it doesn't make it over the sounds of the music and voices or the fact this place is indeed massive. Bane has drawn the attention of the armored and armed security, a half a dozen of them are already whipping out stun botons and rushing towards him, their own warcries weak compared to his. It looks like a pack of coyotes getting ready to try and take on a rabid bear.

A flamoyant whip of his hair and his forearm encircles Harley's waist turning her to aim her towards the VIP section, "Anywhere baby. You're with me now. I can take you to the stars." His hand fans out above him waving at an invisible sky, "Figured a freaky clown like you would like that. We're gonna have fun fun fun." Look at that, the guard doesn't even stop them. Soon she is ascending the stairs with the disco dressed movie star, now able to see Regan under the watchful eyes of Mister X.

On the deck people are racing to the window, a crowd of them pointing, tapping on the window and waving more over to come and see the destruction, the crush of a heavy metal machine in to the mall sector.
The commotion draws Taskmasters attention, he tries to use it to weave further up towards the second floor. To the VIP section, to the other 2 members of his team not below causing a massive distraction, this radio silence is killer.

Uptop Baht's companion looks up and tips her chin, the man over her shoulder turns and strides past on his way to no doubt see what is happening.

Regan makes two of the Ritz Sidecars, taking her time while looking out across the casino floor where the bar provides. Hands in the open, she mixes the drink, drizzling it into tall glasses, and leaves the peel of the lemon dangling over the edge. The shaking if her fingers when she makes the cocktail is purely in play, feigning nervousness she isn't quite sure she shouldn't already be feeling.

"When I backpacked Europe I dated someone who taught me this drink." Regan sucks in her belly and regains her confidence. Fingers flexing, she grips each of the glasses and turns towards Goh's table, meekly avoiding eye contact with all of them. Her vixen game has been knocked on its edge, leaving Regan tight-jawed and awkwardly doing her best to maintain her long-legged walk, the 'moneycatcher'. My, how her cover should have stuck with the rich asian guy.

Only, she's not there to kill the guy she was blowing on the dice of earlier.

"A Ritz Sidecar." Regan bows her head, deferring to Goh and his table partner as she serves them. "And one for your guest, if she pleases." Regan shivers and takes a step back, wringing her hands together.

Bane swings his head about at the security guards rushing him with the stun batons, his jaw open and frothing, before it snaps shut. He turns aside and grabs a nearby kiosk made to sell pretzels, abandoned thanks to the truck crashing in so close to it, and rips it off the ground with a scream. The Herculian lift is accompanied by a shaking of his body as he lifts the entire pretzel stand over his head, the salty treats falling all about it as he shakes the vendor's pride over his head, staring at the charging guards. And then, when they're close, he swings to the side, before he churns his body to the other, hurling the kiosk at them with a decent spin. It smashes through their ranks, knocking them apart through the middle.

And then, Bane is charging. He leaps on one downed security trooper, reaching up, before slamming his fist down into the guard's face, smashing it to bloody mud. And then, one still standing that had avoided the flying kiosk, steps back with a dropped jaw. Bane charges at him with bloody hands, and the baton comes down on Bane. Bane shouts in pain and rage as it causes his muscles to buck, before he grabs the man and lifts him off his feet by his neck, Bane's thumbs shoving beneath the Adam's apple and crushing the man's throat, before Bane twists about and spikes him headfirst into the ground, smashing his head. The human carnage continues as he twists about to look at the two remaining guards behind him, furious and a living monster.

As the guards stand there, backing up, considering flight and completely terrified, Bane lurches forward in a blur of speed that looks impossible for someone his side. He shoves his fist into one's face, knocking his helmet off and snapping his head backwards in a flash of blood, the guard dropping to the ground like a ragdoll. The other attempts to swing his baton around, and it finds its purchase in Bane's stomach, before Bane brings his left hand down on the guard's shoulder with a hammer, smashing the scapula and collar. The guard screams in pain as he drops down onto his knees, and before Bane shoves his own knee into the guard's face, breaking his jaw and laying him out across the ground.

Bane slowly turns about to look at those still watching, seething as his chest and shoulders slowly rise and fall, before he thumps his chest with either fist and emits a roar of primal dominance.


Guided up the stairs, Harley is just able to hear the commotion over at the lobby, the security staff all heading in that direction. Leave it to the boys to start the fighting before right to start with, before they have even found the target. And with a semi too! Jealous!

She wrinkles her nose playfully at the celebrity, resuming her own role. "For you? I'll be as freaky as you want!" she tells him, licking her teeth and just grazing her cherry red lips. Up on the VIP lounge now, Harley pretends to not even notice Regan. She takes a selfie with the slimy actor, popping it up on her feed. This guy is going to be dead by morning and he doesn't even know it's really me! #teammeangirls

The music above blares and Harley pushes the star into a chair with her bat before letting the music cause her hips to sway. Yep, seems the sleezy star is going to get himself a lap dance by the maniac.

A transition from the chaos below, the bloodshed. The VIP Lounge is quiet, the white haired beauty laughs as Regan delivers them the drink, "She speaks to us? She actually speaks to us?"

Baht studies the drink then looks at Regan's face, his hand snapping up and out to grab at her cheek so he can get a better look, "You are much prettier in this light. I keep you. Sit down." Goh senior actually sliding over to give her room as the man over his shoulder bends forward and starts to whisper, irritated by the interruption Baht waves his hand. "No no, I don't care. China White, my man says you are being attacked."

The woman's smile doesn't leave, "We are yes."

His eyes go wide and he grabs up the case, "Then why are we still here?"

The woman waves in a helpless shrug, "It is one man. A creature declaring himself Bane."

Baht's eyes still wide manage to somehow show more white,"Bane… he is one who killed Ajay." Standing up Regan is forgotten, "Below! Go make sure they kill him!"

"Calm youself, Baht. You wish to be Triad? Act like a man." The eyes of China White slide to Regan, her platinum panted lips turn in to a smile, "You, tell us about you. Give us a break from this monotony. Are you a basic creature or is there some depth?"

The movie star's shiny top does nothing to hide the bling around his neck, if anything its open neck shows it off more. He is pushed down in to a chair and laughs, this isn't a strip club. He does not keep his hands to himself as Harley Quinn begins her dance. His grin ear to ear. Occassionally even smacking her on the backside. "Yes, yes! Now this is a night." His attention drops form her long enough to pull out a small tube, lines of white begging to be drizzled out on the table beside them.

Mister X gives an annoyed look at the proceedings, first to Regan making herself closer to his ward and then the appearance of Harley Quinn and the moron with her. His fingers twitch and he tries to fight down an urge to just kill something. "Bane?"

The name, mouthed. "The Bane?" Mister X runs and leaps over the balcony, two stories he drops and lands in a crouch just by Taskmaster. The men pass by one another, its almost in slow motion as the warriors cross within a handspan of eachother, a stare of two Samurai and the disguised Taskmaster tips his gaze away. Looks elsewhere at the machines again. They've fought once before and once before Mister X almost killed him. The man is a telepath, a low level telepath and a master of every known martial arts in the world. Taskmaster cannot counter someone who knows every move before he throws it… Maybe only one recognized the other?
Mister X doesn't slow, he won't even wait for the elevator, no, he is parkouring his way down the stairs with a sort of excitement and desire for bloodshed that only the promise of the fight of the century offers. "Bane… this Bane I will kill."
( )

Attacked? Regan blinks and seems content to scoot out of the booth with Baht, but they're both stopped by China White. Without a drink of her own, Regan stammers wordlessly and sits back down, smoothing out her skirth beneath her rump as she shimmies into the booth next to Baht Goh. The blonde lies her way through a deer-in-headlights look to China White and she begins to stammer.

"Well, wh-I…" Regan laughs under her breath and lets out a tiny sliver of her power, testing the room for telepaths. The audio-visual hallucination is a bottle falling and rolling down beneath the table at their feet. "I'd like to think that I'm not simple, Miss, no."

Regan swallows hard and looks to their faces, eyes pinching in their sway past Harley's lap dance, barely registering Taskmaster, as she continues.

"My father's in law enforcement and he hates that I take these trips, but my mother insists that I learn something about the world, so…" Regan catches her breath and slows, eyes briefly closing. "…even though he says this place is dangerous, I wanted to see someplace more exotic before I enroll at Brown, next year. I'm…a cultures major, focusing on pre-Roman?"

Regan looks from Baht to China White, eyes hopeful. Interesting? Not Interesting?


Bane turns from the audience of terrified wealthy cabrones he's amassed, and reaches up to the truck's trailer, grasping the edge and pulling himself atop it. Now, with a bird's eye view, he sees Mr. X approaching rapidly, sucking in air through his mouth deeply. It is fear. Bane knows Mr. X by reputation, one of the world's greatest assassins. Bane is known as a great warrior, he fights for glory and personal enlightenment and even honor. But an assassin? They fight for blood. And this one has some preternatural ability to counter every move a fighter could ever make. As the air oxygenates his lungs and thrumbs through his blood, thanks to the Venom, Bane drops off the trailer on the other side lazily, before he begins to charge forward to meet Mr. X. People part for him, running to both sides away from him, as he slowly builds his furious pace. His iron toed boots send him barrelling at Mr. X.

Bane's goal is simple. Mr. X would be able to sense that he's building velocity to force Mr. X to smash into a freight train for his first foray into the battle. And the telepath would be able to sense that Bane surmises that Mr. X will not take the safe route out, and let Bane pass by unmolested.

Harley looks off into the distance as she dances, just letting the music move through her, control her body. His hands all over her, well, she can live with that. But then this guy slaps her ass. Harley is oddly possessive, in very weird ways. And in her head, the only one that gets to slap that ass is her Dumplin'! Another twitch under the right eye. She turns around, facing the celebrity as he gets ready to snort a line.

"So, you like my costume? You'd almost think I was the real thing, wouldn't ya?" She takes the guns off her hips, using them to lewdly stroke over her body. She then holds them to his chest. "So? You gonna bang me now or later?" she asks. "Or hey! I got an idea! How 'bout, I bang you!"

And with that she pulls the triggers, turning his chest into pulp. She turns then to their actual target and his lady friends and starts letting loose in a barrage of bullets. Duck Reggie. Harley's more of a spray and pray style of shooter.

China White's laugh is a sharp clipped thing, "How absolutely boring. Let me sell you in to the fleshtrade to liven up your story little girl. That is absolutely Hollywood of you… " Her eyes lower to the bottle rolling, her mind trying to register where it came from. Annoyed now that someone could be so sloppy to possibly leave one under the table.

Baht is licking his lips and watching the exchange, quiet and when the bottle rolls his foot shifts around under the table to stop it. Lazily bumping about. His other hand finding Regan's thigh to bite roughly in to it, then rub. "She only jokes." Goh says, "Right, Miss White? You would ne-"
A silencing finger shoots up, a nail pointed at Goh's face, "You. Silence, you ask me for my help to make you full Triad then you cower in front of this?" A flick towards Regan, "American whore. She was a fool to come up here and makes use to us only as property. Don't foolish, people disappear in Madripoor all the time." Her eyes are on Miss Wyngardes, as if she is studying her for a response to this. They both were incapable of seeing through her illusion, she felt a discipline in China White's mind but a discipline born of strong will and culturing not a psychic barrier.

The bent over movie star nods as he starts to hit those lines, "Yeah baby, totally, candy and bang all night. You look absolutely real. Bang me? I like the sound of th—" Sitting upright he inhales with a snort only to see the guns, his eyes wide, "Nono puh-puh-puh pleaseee." He seriously tried to do a big eyed, stutterlip plead for his life before bullets rip through his torso, tear in to the cushions behind him and tufts of fly in to the air.

China White is up the moment a shot rings out acutally rolling backwards behind the booth. Baht himself forgets all about Regan and thrusts himself out of the both to land on his stomach and chest, that case he is holding thumping behind him, ramming harshly in to Regan's hip. He starts to yell at her in Chinese, rapid, shouting. His other hand scrambling for a weapon under his jacket. Likely hes just telling her to get up and out of the way.

Mister X has an odd look in his eyes as he sees Bane move, his shoulders roll and he waits until Bane is just about to trample him before like some aerialist he is flying over the big man, fingers trailing behind. Almost like he was using an invisible wall to map distance. He doesn't need to. The way his telepathic powers work it does that for him, he just has to maintain the vessel. Without a sound he lands behind Bane, his foot lashing out in a sweep kick. Not only has Taskmaster described the man's moves as flawess but so has Wolverine himself. Mister X is quite simply a freak. A definite fight Bane will be hard pressed to win. Not that he can't but that really depends on which of them is having a good day right now. "I am going to rip your throat out, Bane." A sadistic glee that chortles free of Mister X. He is beyond excited.

Upstairs below the balcony they can hear the beginnings of gunshots, Taskmaster no longer looking like Al Bundy but a man in a ski-mask with a skull on it is up behind one of the guards, the guards weapon in one hand, his body being used as a meatshield as the other guardsmen are fired upon. It has begun.

Regan squeezes her thigh against Goh's fingers, sucking in a nervous breath. Fidgeting, she flinches as Harley's first shot echoes over the walls of the VIP room. Regan flicks her head over, eyes growing oval-wide, owlish. To the casual observer? Terror. To those who know her? DID HARLEY JUST KILL SOMEONE FAMOUS? Oh.

Keeping up appearances, Regan is shoved, pushed, and dives for cover with Baht as the bullets begin to fly. Her heels clatter to the floor in the struggle that has her falling to her stomach, crawling along the floor, a terrified mess of a blonde for all to see, rump in the air, heels in hand. Screaming for Baht to save her.

That's just one side of Regan. The other? Illusory.

All of the sudden there are twelve Harley Quinns in the room. Twelve in a line for all, even Harley, to see, spraying what feel like very -real- bullets that cause very -real- pain to the room, the utmost of carnage for -half- of the cost of wall repair when bullets shatter glass and puncture fresh holes through wood.

Regan, in her own way, gives Harley the room to murder, at will.

(To Be Continued… )

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