Villa Serpentis

June 13, 2017:

Taskmaster, Harley (Emitted), and Regan seek sanctuary in a Serpent's Nest in Madripoor. (Emits by Ravager)

Some decisions are bad for your health and give you an exit in a body-bag.

//Villa Serpentis - Other Realms - Somewhere Beyond //


Baroness' Villa


NPCs: Zayin, Baroness, China White

Mentions: Bane


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The compound in Madripoor is expansive. Acres span along a cliffside staring
down at the ocean that erodes away at the edge, threatening centuries of eradication of the invading land mass with a large manse dropped upon its edge.
No success yet, but it was precarious enough for Baroness to buy and renovate.
But not for the large housing structure, moreso for the land itself. Stretches of
acres are made into a military compound around the house suiting barracks and
additional housing as well as ranges. Hand to hand. Firing lines of varying weaponry. Tactics.

Outside of the gated compound the training did not stop, guerilla warfare is
tried and expressed there because it too belongs to her all in the name of her
company. So as SUVs and trucks sweep in and out over the rugged terrain they are
watched, checked and cleared by those who lay in wait from brush to limb of tree.

The vehicle at harbors this 'Suicide Squad' is one they had to hire, laying incognito as they are officially wanted, hunted, and or already have their names on reward posters where the docks and bays open to transport. There are prices to pay for being

Word of a wanted group and warning has already come, but a finger of mechanical extension trails along the rim of a glass that cusps out like a Lotus bearing a red liquid inside as cameras relay the approaching vehicle, and zoom gives her faces. Only one known, but she does not stop what happens as they grow nearer to her lair and reach the gates of the Villa that seem empty until there is a sound like raindrops upon the vehicle…
And then the triggering of weaponry from safeties to the low whine of charges.

"Welcome back - Master of his task," The voice bears a heavy accent akin to Russian, but not. "You return for, what? Sanctuary?" A leg uncrosses and the gauntlet fitted thighs part from their cross, the tablet lifts in a gloved grip as the heels crescendo across marble flooring and the wine is sipped

The men that are now aiming and ready bearing the evident red emblem of a Cobra across their plated gear.

"Who are your friends?" That voice carries as a door opens and the night air is allowed in.

"A shower." Taskmaster states bluntly, "Friends, they got their own tongues. They're secure." The mercenary assures, they have been skulking through Madripoor's Low Towns for the past several hours, losing tails, changing their look up and just in general keeping under the radar. Taskmaster is wearing a large widebrimmed hat, his makeup is smeared, he has a bandana on his lower jaw with skulls on it and a poncho covering his Hawaiian shirt. At some point he stole some shoes. Barefoot in Madripoor is very unsafe.

"We'll drop our weapons out here." Which he discards his two pistols and a knife. Nothing else on his person. "Fine, yeah, sanctuary for the night. We have a boat to catch tomorrow."

Oh, what a light sheen of sweat will do to Gucci perfume. The drive through the sweaty town through its sweaty streets has left Regan's hair less than perfect. In fact, she can still smell gunpowder residue on her shoulder as she rubbernecks at the window for the drive to the compound. She's managed to rake her hair back into some semblance of order, but nevertheless, she's gone from casino beauty to the damsel that's been dragged by James Bond through the streets of Mumbai.

And she, too, needs a shower.

Regan slinks one leg out of the car first, using it and the above-head bar for balance to pull her body outside of the vehicle. The short, black cocktail dress, backless to a point of near obscenity, couldn't hide a shiv, let alone a gun, so in greeting to the Baroness, she turns in a hobbled circle, arms extended. The spin gives her time to recognize the symbols of Cobra all about them.

"Oh, you said you had important friends, but I'd never suspected this important." Regan smiles and dips her head to the Baroness. "I'm Regan Wyngarde. Daughter of Jason Wyngarde. Admittedly?" Regan smiles to the dark-haired woman. She holds up two fingers, nearly pinched together. "Bit of a fan."

Other screens flickered the news reels, the criminal networks, the exploding 'lid' off of the casino as glass blows out and everything shatters, zooming onto the 'team', and its elusive maneuvers to exit as everything goes to literal shit.

For those she couldn't care less about.
Lucky. Lucky.

The weapons (or lack thereof for Regan) are brandished a nod is given to a guard at the stairs to her left and the gates open with a simultaneous press of thumb (hers being cybernetic and bearing claws) along wit his and the echo of. "Open." And the gates spread to have the vehicle escorted to the crescent drive before the villa doors and the waiting Baroness that *tinks* a clawed tip upon glass.

Regan exiting though earns a massive H&K to her eye-level, while the door Task seeks to exit is suddenly hammered… Rocking Regan out moreso despite the security warning!

Barbs sink in through the metal panel of vehicle door, clenching and ripping away, a massive charged growl bellowing upon the other side.

Baroness descends the stairs one by one. "Ravage missed you, Task." His name stated with a hissing emphasis.

Though now, Regan and any other occupants get the regard of steel-blue gaze set behind the reflection of glasses due to headlights. "Forgive the hospitality…. Wyngarde, but remain still…" And as Baroness approaches a scanner sweeps.

"No word for over a year, consider me bitter."

Harley waltzes in behind the other two, shoulders slumped and hair falling over her lovely painted face. "Oooh a metal puppy." Exhaustion evident. The only moment of glee she has shown after miles of toting Regan around on her back, world's worst backpack. Harl offered though. Taskmaster never did. "I'll pet you later." Then with an adorable squeek she falls over in the grass.

Taskmaster is about to thank Baroness for allowing them entry when Ravage comes leaping out, snarls and barks a defensive posture taken up. "Yeah… I did not miss him. Turn him off or whatever it is you do to keep him quiet. We've been on our feet for hours… " A look sidelong at Regan, "Well, some of us have been. Things happen." A lot of it he cannot remember. Why did they stop speaking? It had to be something important right? Had to be. (it was)

Regan doesn't shoot her hands up when she's faced down the barrel of a pistol. Her bright, blue eyes cross, inch towards their inner pinch of eyelid in unison, then release. Freeze Frame! Regan simply stops, failing to move a single muscle save for those required to keep her frozen in position in her scuffed up dress and lack of heels.

She'd have brought an I.D., but tucking your credit card into your bra is considered just as tacky in Regan's social circle as is wearing a bra with a backless dress.

"Your house, your rules." Regan doesn't fight the security measures, though she does spare a slightly exasperated look to Taskmaster at the gathering that Baroness might be a jilted ex lover. "Okay, so full disclosure? I might have a bomb in my arm that's good for blowing up my arm and little else. Which would kill me pretty quickly." Regan clears her throat.

"Oh." Regan swallows. "And also, full disclosure? I can afford to wire payment to an offshore for your troubles." A beat. "That's my don't shoot me entry offer."

It is not jealousy in Baroness' gaze, evident once the reflection off lenses allows her eyes to be revealed. It is distrust. Regan is regarded and her words cause a nearly puppeted tic of one corner of Baroness' lips. "I don't need your money." A slide of gaze from Regan to the form of Task with Ravage, the massive mechanical armored and armed beast withdrawing in a manner akin to a predatorial prowl back into shadows and then within the villa. But from those shadows, come a line of what she calls BATs.

"I need…. A moment." The sweep of Regan is ended, her honesty taken fully into consideration while the weapon aimed center mass of the blonde lowers away.

But that does not disclude Regan, the wine handed her way in that massive chalice shaped glass.

So I go back…
To black.

A snap of those mechanical fingers and the BATs go onto offensive against Taskmaster, the side of that vehicle sudden filled with pock marks of bullets!

"Keep your arm opposing me." The glass is taken back and sipped upon with the meet of vitae huen lips curled into a venomous smile. "Then we go inside, if he lives…"

An inhale and Taskmaster watches as the BATS step forth. He remembers those, vaguely, once upon a time they were just in a design phase. Prototypes. These don't look like prototypes.

Taskmaster is without a shield and goes full evasive running and lunging behind parked vehicles, letting them absorb as much gunfire as possible. Somehow Harley Quinn just remains on the ground snoring. Maybe she opened an eye and closed it?
"Okay… you're mad. That's cool. Wanna turn these off now before I break them?" The 'bandana-skull' clad mercenary is yelling, one hand on the top of his head to keep the hat on. "SERIOUSLY MAKE THEM STOP!"

A leap up and a flip off the car, Taskmaster's knees land on either side of the nearest BAT's head, twisting and trying to jerk it around so it opens fire on it's companions. One other and it burst outward, electronics and wired guts bursting out. The head arm off of one being used to club a third to fizzling junkpile before he's racing for cover again. "COULD USE SOME WATER and less bullets… "

A moment?

"Take your time." Regan replies to Baroness, daintily taking the woman's goblet from her and holding it in place. When the Baroness takes it back, Regan lifts her head to the approaching BATs and quietly smooths down the front of her skirt, making herself 'nice' for the oncoming…violence? She folds her fingers together low on her hips, balancing on one ankle to sway as the sounds of automatic weaponsfire turns the car they were just driving in to Swiss cheese. Regan Wyngarde doesn't flinch or fear the sounds of weaponry, instead, she watches intently, silent, mind filled with dozens of wishes that she didn't get caught between this…whatever it is.

Regan looks to her hostess, then to Taskmaster, lips pushing out in appraisal as the Taskmaster makes a kill.

"The water here needs filtered, I figured make him a test sieve…" The glass is taken back up, regarded as Regan did not even bother to partake, and with a slow roll of plated shoulder Baroness sips once more as the melee unfolds on her front landscape, even parts of the small pruned bushes blasted off and falling in a shower of leaves and twigs.

He had helped program Phase 1, then left before Phase 2 could be delivered. Well, it was, and now this is 2.5. Improv… That he is tearing through, but as lines of bullets now spray with his counter, nearing the ground where Harley sleeps, the massive mechanical 'pet' leaps out and lands over the sleeping Quinn, bullets ricocheting off it's extremities, leaving her safe before the clawed tail picks up her body (Sorry for any scratches!) and sets her on its back to carry her inside.

Willing of Baroness or not, Harley liked him! Debt repaid?

Baroness does not make them stop, Task can do that on his own. Her glass is empty now and a single taloned nail taps on the surface, sounding out an empty echo of metal on glass. "You have managed to come to Madripoor, and anger just the right people, aside from China White. Shaky." A pause and Baroness turns, her form ascending the stairs as the final BAT drops and sparks at Taskmaster's feet, the trigger still being pulled only omitting *click-cli-click!*. Empty.

"Come to my parlor…" The smile unseen as with every step up the stairs to the door that sway is far more serpentine.

"You will have your own glass… and far better attire."

The final BAT in it's turn missed a critical moment it could have actually shot Taskmaster. The man is directly before it, both knees slamming in to it's glossy faceplate, cracking it open before a single curled fist rip in to it, tears back out cords trailing and then the BAT topples in a clatter across the ground at the Baroness' feet. A sidekick with enough force to warp metal and destroy it's lower extremity servos.

Sucking in air Taskmaster doubles over, hands on his knees. Chest rising and falling as sweat covers him in a whole new skin. "I'm… seriously… going to… die of… thirst… "
"I'll be right in… as soon as I can move my legs."

Regan turns to follow after Baroness, though, she twists at the hips and looks back to Taskmaster, eyes lowering to him in a long, blue stare. She'd offer to help, or so the look on her face suggests for a nanosecond, but limping as she is, Regan's a socialite. She knows the routes. Instead, she turns to follow after Baroness with a smirk upon her once-painted lips and a tuck of hair behind her ear.

"I was able to smell the wine when I held it," Regan offers to Baroness' shoulders. "That would be lovely, thank you, and anything you could provide to get out of this rag after what the fight did to it." Regan hobbles into line, walking alongside Baroness.

"I guess seven thousand dollars really can be reduced to ROSS quality in a matter of seconds." Regan narrow-eyes to the woman, displeased. "Which is a shame. I really liked this dress."

"Oh… Get. Up." Behind Taskmaster, Zayin appears, looking his usual placid self. Casual in stance, and yet being the lead of the Night Creepers, he is anything but. Well polished footwear passing just beside the man, a hand lowering to flick his sombrero. "You come back in that?" A narrow of one corner of his eye and no hand offered as Zayin walks in silently after the two ladies, though Regan is eye'd with a bit more care.

Once some distance is had though, Baroness stops within the foyer and about-faces Regan. "If you are a child of Jason, the care for your rags.." A pause and an up-down, glasses lowered in emphasis to stare at the woman and then over her shoulder to Taskmaster and Zayin. "Wyngarde's do not ever wear rags."


"I will have refreshments served pool side. Let my people know what you need. Your girl-jester is in the guest room first to the right." Walking away, slowly the armor plates are slipped beneath and levers are clicked open to unfold the vest from her form an be brought up and over, handed off as she even prepares for more casual company.

Her point was proven enough.

Taskmaster slides a look over to Zayin, "Watch it." He grumbles out only to wander on in, ignoring the remarks about the sombrero and bandana mask. The poncho is discarded, a ratty white tanktop that's torn is underneath, the rags will just be discarded to wherever. Someone will pick them up. They talk names he doesn't know other than Wyngarde. "Right, the rich snobby club stuff. I had near forgotten." His fingers twiddle in the air.

"Showers, decent clothes, water… " That's all says. "Don't put Zayin on me either, I don't need your little man butler following me around."

"It's not snobby club stuff, it's a Erin Featherston. See?" Regan smiles to Baroness broadly, then turns her head to point from Taskmaster to Baroness. "She gets it. Thank you." Regan does the best curtsy she can to the Baroness before falling into line with Zayin and Taskmaster. She plucks at the shoulderstraps of her dress, preparing to lose it. "My father would have a coronary if he saw me visiting someone as important as she dressed like this. Not that there are many good places to stop and get a dress on the way here, while being chased around."

Regan stops in a doorway and turns to Zayin, hands coming together towards both he and Taskmaster.

"A bikini that fits 32C, a shower, something that'll scrub gunpowder out of my-" Regan blinks and gasps, looking to Zayin. "Wait, do you have servants? Like actual servants? Because if someone else doing the scrubbing is on the menu? Sold."

Regan is watched, even as she leaves the foyer and is ushered to the room and space where her needs are met. Yes. Baroness has servants, she is used to such, and affords it on her own with what her warfare and trade acquires. Nevermind what her deceased lineage provided. It is untouched. Ambition. Power. Strength…. A villa on Madripoor Mount.
A name enough that any who would pursue TFX wait at the base of the cliff-side and do not dare enter the foliage, because if they do
Those on foot are handed back folded five ways and akin to massive cat-toys. Vehicles are in neutral and rolled back lit aflame and explosive!!

Tsk. "But what if Zayin is all I can offer?" The tone is almost chiding as Baroness turns in the shadows, bending to undo the harnesses holding the plates upon her boots that hold over her thighs, slowly peeling the protection from the second-skin of body suit beneath.

Zayin is even looking between them and waiting, still, unreadable… Fuck. Me. Running.

"Water will be back down here. Szevaldia is in your old room." Baroness states, disappearing into a doorway as if enveloped in the shadows while both of them get what they desire, Harley is left with some 'Tylenol' and water beside her bed as she covers the damn feather pillow in drool!

The Pool:

Taskmaster thrusts a thumb at Zayin, "He's the manservant not me." The mercenary informs Regan, a sour note to his voice. "Feather-what? Nevermind." Taskmaster tosses the sombrero, scarf, pants, shoes to Zayin. "Napalm them or launch them in to the ocean to kill some sharks."

The merc isn't bashful in his nudity around the army of Baroness' servants or Regan. It's not like its anything new or unseen.

"Careful mixing too much with her, she's always scheming for something more and those schemes are usually highly illegal and just as questionable as what we already do. Only it's for no greater cause other than her power." A hushed warning to Regan as they stand there getting powdered and prepped for the showers.
"TerrorIST" He adds. Almost sounding like he hisses with the last part.

"Erin Featherston is a designer, though admittedly not a crazy-in-demand one. It was a good dress." Regan waves to Baroness as the group is parted. Walking at a limp, Regan slows to let the dress fall from her shoulders, unshy in the micro-thin strip of fabric that serves as underwear, which is slipped away before falling into place beside Taskmaster, ready for the powdering and washing.

"I didn't hear that, Tee." Regan grins to him with a whisper, closing her eyes and lifting her arms above her head. She gathers up her long, blonde hair and holds it away from her body while she's pelted with luxurious powders. "Because you pretty much just described me, and she knows who the Wyngarde's are, and I ain't so bad." Regan smiles his way, then sighs. "So, who's Szevaldia and how dead are you later tonight because I'm totally getting the vibe you two used to drive the fuck truck to pound town."

Zayin stands there. The Poncho slathering him like a spider web to fall to the ground at his feet. The sombrero rebounding like a massive Frisbee.

Eye Tic…~

Pivot on sharp heel and he walks away.. "Why do you —- ?"

"Because I can." Baroness replies/interrupts, while she slips into the sauna, the steam exiting the door to swallow her shadow-clad form as the teeth of her suit grind. Left to the floor like a skin shed with the proper feeding and heat applied to habitat.

Baroness knew Jason as part of Hellfire, her own monetary value diminutive in comparison to what she could provide on the level of a far deeper warfare. Things she did provide to that Club, although her presence has been forced lately into a shadowed silence.
For War.

Regan and Taskmaster are shuffled to their own quarters after the initial 'delousing', and when they get to their rooms there is a relay system available but also those said 'servants'.

Regan, 32C 24W 34H. Clothing for day, night, pool, and sleep laid out on a massive bed, twin French doors open to leave a view over the pool beneath and Taskmaster's room across the way in similar…

Task arrives to one singular woman permitted to his quarters, what had not been burned or exploded in pigeon-shoots off the cliffside is rested upon his own massive bed, but it is apparent the mattress has been used for target practice, with feathers and fluff exuding like internals made external in force. Szevaldia is silent as the swimwear is left to the forefront and she departs the way he should go.

In the Pool, it overlooks the cliff that drops to Madripoor's Shoreline, the water flowing through and over the rocky crags edge, and from the steamed room, Anastasia steps, bare footed and clad in the decollage of bikini. Black on pale skin, shadows of lace painted over contours, scars, and sinew, but betwixt the press of breasts a red Cobra's mantle splays like a handprint of possession and title laid there.

Stepping into the water she sinks in, and against the night air and meet of body heat further whisps of steam rise.

When they arrive:
"Fuck you and your team for this." Behind her the H&K pistol rests, mechanical arm lain over the ledge of the pools lip..

"I've done work for your Hellfire Club, she's part of that outer ring? Whatever you want to call it." A flexing of his jaw, the look of Regan's grin has him glaring at her, "You're enjoying this, it's not the same, I mean, I don't even fucking know why I am warning you. You're right. Both cut from the same clothe. Aristocratic shits."

Taskmaster doesn't comment on that last remark. Just letting them get ushered off to their rooms. Unsurprised the bed is a destroyed mess, bullets, a katana? Someone unleashed some crazy in here. A glance over his shoulder and he just gets dressed in what's available. They can survive one night. Maybe. His odds are less than Regan and Harley's.

"Yes. I am enjoying this. What's not to enjoy about watching you be all," Regan faux-electrocutes, making a derpy face when she does it, while getting slapped with powder. "Around a girl who's mad enough that I'm *pretty* sure you banged facing each other. She is so pissedatchu, Tee-kachu." Regan clucks her tongue against her teeth. "Don't warn me about the lady, Tee. It's cool. Everyone has a type." Regan winks his way before disappearing to the baths, smiling like the cat that ate the canary all the way.

Minutes later, Regan comes out of her room feeling like a million dollars with a fifteen cent ankle. The red, string, loaner bikini fits like a glove, down to the scant coverage of her backside, and the sarong makes it a dress for the feet it takes to get to the water. Regan, strides at a limp, like a princess who drilled the glass slipper into her foot.

"Would smuggling you into America for an incognito shopping and spa spree without paying for any of the clothes and services make up for it?" Regan asks as she slips into the water. "Because Wyngarde's remember kindness, especially kindness with house servants."

All around the Villa Serpentis there is security camera's rolling.

China White and Baroness are a Yin and Yang in Madripoor's harbors that require smuggling, extraction, trade…
And she is pissed, the clipped language barked in a higher pitch to Baroness as she watches the casino blow as the final footage… and frontier.
The screen digitalizes as crete and mortar accented by glass shards fire outward in the eruption. A work of Art.
A zoom on Taskmaster, Lady Mastermind, Harley Quinn, Bane…


// You say I'm crazy, and I might be,
but if you only knew!//

Taskmaster observes his room. *The* Room, as well as his swimsuit and what is left of his personal effects, the view through the screen recorded in Hi-Def and color as Zayin is in the doorway as Tee mutters. No words…

Silenced bullets whisper-bark across the distance seeking to hit that mask, shatter it in a spray of visceral remains to paint the wall behind, another blow for center mass to cover the remnants of a past across the bed…

Aiming for dead.

Regan stepping into the pool is regarded with a slow forming smile from the Baroness as those talons from the cybernetic arm drag over the ledge of plaster and marble pool-lip. "I have visited America in messages. Mainly… Boxes~." Caskets, gifts that bleed, warnings and promises that are arsenic laden just like that venom that pumps through the "veins" of that arm in a liquid moss with every heartbeat. A venomous toxin that matches her smile.

"Jason was a cunning man. His mind…" A tap of that claw-tipped finger to her temple and her other hand lifts the glock and seeks to perform a perfect execution upon Regan as well if she does not resist!
The water around her going from clear to pink in the tie-dye spread of blood.

Backstage: Look alike are lined up, alive, but then dead in the same manner, same distances, one in a tub, the other over a twin sized bunker bed. Prisoners of war. Traitors to Cobra. Now dead.

"Deliver them to China as an apology." Baroness rises from the pool and drops her weapon with a clatter.
Massive concussive rounds, it will spatter blood realistically, and knock the fuck out, but not kill. More bruises to add to the plethora!

"Allies must be kept. Fly them out in the morning."

A pillow comes down over her head until she stops kicking.
Good thing once the feed is flicked, they are carried out of relay and aided.

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