Boom Boom Bubblegum

September 08, 2017:

(R Rated - Language and Drugs) Rose Wilson in disguise meets a very frustrated Red Hood

Gotham, Gotham Harbor

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

AttN: Red Hood
VG Confirmed Eliminated. Next Target: Elijah Wilks.
@Pier 3, Gotham Harbor: 23:00

The message earlier today. This entire eliminate that guy there, take out that one over there has Red Hood feeling on the side of ;scummy;. It's one thing to be trained by assassins and to take out crooks on your own accord but to be told who to kill and when? It's a sour taste.
Crouched low across from Pier 3 on Pier 4 next to his motorcycle the Red Hood stares at the yacht across from him, "No one told me Mr. Wilks was a pimp."

The 'Golden Turk' a luxury class yacht sits nestled in to the Gotham pier, its deck lit up with a small party that consists of one man wearing only a bathrobe, pale blonde hair and eyebrows so light they're almost translucent, it makes it look like he has none. Before him dancing a young scantly clad woman. The body guard remains at the opening of the ship, an easy access up and down the steps.

Then again, no one tells the Red Hood anything. He gets a name and the rest is up to him; his employer, shes familiar with his abilities.
This is a dilema for the anti-hero though, this man, this Mr. Wilks has his fingers in illegal trading and cociane. Is that death sentence worthy? He has a job to do anyways but is this one the real deal. Also the bad techno music is just begging for someone to get shot tonight.

Rose is already there.

Short cropped black hair, razored into a pixie that leaves daggered edges around her face, long pieces detached from the mess atop lifted and tuseled, bangs sweep along her face, overing one eye to extend just over the top of a deep blue opposing that is revealed. Heels alter height and keep to feet in black leather straps bound by links of chain, dropping just beneath the cling of leather pants at ankles, ascending over hips to rest dangerously low. Sides are exposed, a gauzey top of white is open at both sides and serves no purpose of cover, held fromt to back with matching inks of chains, thank visual distractions for the black bikini top beneath that is still wet from her earlier swim at this get-together, clinging that mesh over her chest. Tattoos are evident, rose-vines up her sides, crossed guns disappearing beneath the leather-wrapped hip… Tiny droplets of red falling from petals …

At the top of the stairs her fingers pinch her nose, a deep sniff, a sweep of hand and she rolls her shoulders back, a wink and light exchange, a kiss blown to the dancer before the man…

Elijah Wilks:

Extortion and theft of technological advancements. Sold to hands. Exchanged to terrorist level threats.
Wreckless once mingled with drug running Gang (**&^* Name left to Privacy).
Leave him a message or sink him with his ship.
Details to follow….

A cigarette is lit, illuminating her face as she wals towards aft, where silence and peace is had, but when her hand loops around a rope as she leans along the railing a long slender bag is being hoisted up out of the water while Rose casually smokes and watches the party.
Wilks is loud. His music is louder and a rough noise, some pure house mix straight out of Germany from the sounds it's noise carries across Pier 3.

"You next you next, come hit this." He is waving a thin redhead over, she gets close enough he yanks her down and shoves her face in to a few powdery lines. "Cmoncmoncmoncmon. Its good right? Primo, my boy Jay-Z said he would hook me up and he did. Bet you hookers didn't know i knows Jay-Z? I know Post Malone, Pharrel, DJ Darrk, I ranned in to Steve Aoki that fucker way short. Oh this stuff is GOOOood I just wanna fuck everything, that plant, this can, you, yeah, you come here. Just everything…" The man is amped. It's clear he is out of his gourd right now on some serious drugs.

Red Hood in his walk can't see this nor can he see Rose Wilson in disguise pulling up a mystery bag. His stride is casual, hes been watching this man for the past hour and a half and hasn't seen any guards except for the pilot and the pretend bouncer. The pilot no threat. He walked with a limp and is soft around the middle. Armed though. The bouncer on the other hand for a big man moves light, broad shoulders, straight backed, fingers tuck in with thumb on knuckles, stands at ease and attention in transition. A soldier. Definitely combat arms at some point.
Too bad the modern military can't afford the people who trained Jason Todd.

Rose is ignoring the horrible music. Easy to do when she is reliving a day where she went to a club, left foggy glass erased of lines, and danced in smoke emitted from the dj booth. Chains could have dangled from the factory-high ceiling and rafters. Fuck if she remembered the night, but that was fun, this is business and dependent on her 'job well done' is what will give her a text of glee in the form of green.

The rope is figure8 wound, leaving the bag just behind her and just upon ledge. Slowly unzipped, the cigarette of Rose - Hearing and Being Juke Joint Jezebel - Lifts as if she would flick that cigarette into the water, but instead, stamps it out on the edge beside the rest of leather clad ass. A pack of gum is withdrawn, several pieces pulled free by teeth to leave her mouth rather full to chew.

Several small slivers are tucked into her waistline and the too-tight back pocket of leather pants. A finger draws upon gum, pulling it from between smear-red lips, twisting around a finger… Knotting one of those tiny triggers, slapping it to the banister beside her, sticking it in place with the thread of gum.

This walk and plant continues, her path back towards the party is one of a casual ease, dropping hips into a salacious roll.

That single eye visible slants towards Elijah as she comes forth, leaning with the cock of hip to the side, a finger twisting gum, teeth snapping it off before she speaks. "Aoki is asian, short is 90 percent birthright. Post Malone would have emptied you by now, you wouldn't have to have red there scrape it up."

Rose does not see Hood approaching, but she is already on her own move, and positioned just above the boarding ramp where gum twined inger extends with her reach to grip above her head and lightly swing her body closer to Elijah while sticky 'trigger finger' leaves more tiny presents
Wilks looks closely at Rose squinting his eyes enough to give her a good once over, "Yo yo, you look kina Asian yourself. Innit rude to say?" A large gold toothed grin and he shoves the redhead away, the woman doesn't look pleased with the physical treatment but doesn't appear to mind the 'sugar' coating her lips and nose.

"I don't remember you in the catalogue baby doll, take a seat." He pats the curved and molded cushion of the yacht bench. "Lemme see what kinna goods you got."

Red Hood is walking along the boardwalk, his eyes traveling the yacht until he is toe to toe with the ramp up, the bouncer standing upon it. The lift of his gaze ascends and ascends until eyes are leveled on the big man's face, no red helmet, thats under his arm. Only the domino mask that frames hazel eyes.
The big man's brow furrows, "Private party. Move along."
Jason Todd grins.
"Don't do it, kid."
"I can't help myself, man." A fist flies and… is caught.
Oh shit. I underestimated his speed.
It's an odd sensation when you no longer have control of your own hold on gravity, hefted up in to the air Red Hood lets out an uncomfortable sound one wholy mingled with frustration.
And his strength. Shit shit. Weak Jay. Weak.
The crash down in to the planks isn't audible to those above the horrible German Hard House music, a leg and a arm wrap up to try and bar the big man only to have them swatted down, a heavy fist clubbing in to his face. Stars.

The noises below over just the lip of the yacht will go unnoticed, that music just muffles everything outside of it. A shame Rose Wilson won't get to see Jason Todd getting his ass momentarily handed to him by a private security professional no-namer.

"Not if you're asian. Right?" Rose smiles as she slowly swings down into the niche where they are seated around Elijah, the draw of hand down from the overhang's lip is bare now, tiny explosive levels of 'party favors' left all over in the form of discarded chewed gum bits here and there.

The red head discarded is not even regarded, but the near-scatter of the plate of cut and lined powder is captured to be set back in place before it spills, a tip of finger powdered in snow is drawn to lips and swept across teeth, where just behind that wad of gum is *popped* and captured, another twist..

"I changed my hair, the catalogue needs updated." A flash of a smile with a clip of teeth again and as she claims the seat beside Elijah, the hand droping to the backrest of his seat as she rocks to one hip, half exposed by the pull and draw of leather to show the dip from hip towards toned abdomen where the small valley disappears beneath pantline.

"What level of goods you looking for?" A low murmur as she leans closer to him and another small plant is made. She may not hear the commotion at the boarding plank, but somewhere along the dark line of the ships side there is a bang much akin to a gunshot, finished wood splintered and cracked as it lands in small flames, igniting a tiny path…

The man's eyes drop to that dip and exposure of navel, where they were seated on what cleavage he could. Hes not very good at making eye contact. "Only the most expensive. I'm Bruce Wayne around here boo, I'm filthy rich, filthy." He drawls out the word and leans in to her, his mouth actually opening up to press to her neck. His breath smells of alchol, whatever cheesy pizza he ate and a foul number of other things. Hygiene is apparently something hes not paying mind to right now. "You here for the fun, right? Fill your nose and we'll see what I can fill… get it? Do you get it?" He laughs at his own bad joke, a horrible sound like a Hyena.

Eyes watering past the domino mask Jason Todd struggles to his knees breathing heavy, that Red Hood mask slid back over his face now. He doesn't want anyone else here to see how badly the big man pummeled his face in. Its bad for the rep.
A grunt and he pushes further up, wobbles once and has to stop himself from giving the unconcious bouncer a swift kick to the ribs. It would serve him right but it wouldn't exactly be deserved. The man's just doing his job. Protecting filth from justice.

The spread of flames is overlooked right now, its too budding, too soon. Easy to bypass when you're climbing over the edge of a yacht to stand in the middle of a too loud party. A gun in each hand.

"Hi! There was a noise complaint. It said whoever is playing that obnoxiously loud and stupidly European music needs shot. I figured I'd be a good… good… screw it."
A gunshot rings out and the ship's pilot goes down, his hobbling form was half from the wheel and climbing down with a firearm in hand, now he just topples to a sprawl whimpering as he clutches his stomach.

"I know. They hurt, right?"

Rose's hand plants, the show of muscles tensing at his nearness rides from forearm to shoulder, a roll of joint to dip skin at her collar just along the exposed slope of her neck, that loose fit of gauzen tank top draws over the divot, sweeping towards the slope of bare shoulder as her head takes a swan-like turn away from Elijah's nearness, the acrid smell of cheesy halitosis, but in all appearances she is accepting of the advance.

Oh look! An interruption!

But the timing with her smaller explosion (meant for distraction! Let Hood Take this one!), and the fire starting is perfect, his breath paints along her skin, skin that tightens as if it would crawl away after peeling from her and then the arrival has Rose using the plant of hand to shove her back and away (using his groin as lift off!) in a skitter that plants her off the bench to the floor on her ass, heels digging into flooring to slide her the fuck out of dodge!

"Ohmygod! This the FuN you had in mind!?" A flail, a point, a facade of poor acting to convey terror and horror at their 'moment' being interrupted.

Scooch, scooch… sliiddee… Nevermind the fact the final larger wad of gum is plucked free and lodged just along the framework to the engine room.

"Get out of here." Red Hood snarls at Rose and the other women present. The gunshot that already rang out having inspired early leavers anyways.

Wilks attention is off of Rose the moment the masked man appeared. She is not even an after thought until his groin is smooshed by her upwards rush away from him, a noise releases and he clutches himself yet keeps his eyes deadlocked on Red Hood, "ARNIE! HELP!"

"Arnie is the big one right? Figures. He can't help you now." A gun levels on Elijah Wilk's forehead. The spread of fire and rippling of explosions has Red Hoods head craning in confusion and then he is closely studying Rose.
One of those firearms pointed at her as well, "Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?"

"Ammonium nitrate, glycol, salt, guar… thats some dangerous chewing gum you're pitching, lady."

Rose is alredy moving, and once distance enough is gained the tuck of legs has her in a crouch to rise, the threads of black hair a web in front of one of her eyes, shadowing the glassy reflection from beneath, the other dead-centered on Red Hood.

Oh she has heard of him, and being on her feet is beneficial at this very moment while he is distracted with White Trash Bash… Or maybe not! Rose is almost to a full stand, more like a hunched crouch when a pistol swings her way and returns a one-empty-barreled glare. "Offshoot of Fruit Stripes…" The hand at her side opens, the crumpled pack hitting the deck beside heeled feet, but those chains even dangle loose and free.

"….Yipes…" A loud *POP* and the pack splits open in pieces but what would have been caltrops to scatter across the ground shoots those shrapneled shards outward towards Elijah and Red hood now! A bright flash and the pack is ignited as well just beside the larger explosive at the engine door.

Not a flash bang, just another distraction, enough to at least leave those damned heels behind as running, moving, and doing what she may have to do next… Not in those bad boys. Her path is to her pack as small bursts are her very own fireworks.
"What are you to talking about? I don't even know what is going on!?" Wilks is starting to gibber now. His faux MTV gangster accent falling away to a clear English. "I don't want to die."
"Shut up." Red Hoods eyes follow Rose, "You didn't answer my question… oh shit." A lunge and hes diving away from the firey pops of the bubblegum explosives, at least the smell mixes burnt ozone with fruitilicious. Poor Wilks gets left behind to suffer as his hands rise and he cries out, warding away the sparkle flares around him. "Ow ow ow. It's hot, it hurts!"

A distraction only, no time, Red Hood pivots holstering a gun and grabs up his mark by the scruff throwing him up and over the lip of the yacht to land with a crash on the boardwalk. That likely hurt worse than the burns he just receieved.

Red Hood's eyes try to track where the woman went, "Don't move Elijah. I'll kill you if you move!" He yells. Thats reassuring. Hopefully the man broke something on the fall. Don't need another chase.

Rose is not looking back. one direction, one path, one purpose even if she packed for shit going sideways, there was hope a wanna be thug druggy would be easy. Holy hell he got good cocaine though! Her heart hammers in her chest when she draws that pack up over the edge of the boat, unzipping it and swinging it around to turn and about-face her path to see if he pursued her.

Chains clatter and that flowing loose top is removed, wearing a 'poncho' to a fight is just as hingering as 6 inch stiletto's.

…Unless they are holstered horizontal along her back, the belt strapped on around her waist. Magnums, not stilettoes, and the guns resting vertically to straddle spine are her Rhino's. The holster is snapped open, security straps moved aside by thumbs but only one is drawn, the wig removed and tossed into the flames bordering Red Hood.

"Ravager." Stated as her silhouette moves towards the dock-side of the ship where he just launched Elijah. "May want to move. I chewed 10 sticks."

"Ravager. Thought he was a guy." Red Hood retorts, as she is drawing up the pack he lurches forward to intercept her and sends a kick at her.This kick is followed by another kick, a step in knee and a pivoting sidekick. Very fast rushing strikes. He is good. She'll learn this with his speed and ferocity alone and they're not pulled. They're also not meant to cripple or kill though either, "Did you have a sex change?"

Jason's mind seeks faces and names, the Ravager, there is information out there on her. He has seen it. The man just expected if he was going to encounter some white haired one eyed woman with swords it would be in an entirely different scenario. Not… burning the yacht of his target?

"You wouldn't be stupid enough to stick that in your mouth. I hope."

Ravager is stopped by his blows. One side kick incoming to her ribs has her pushing to head another direction and dodge the booted impact, the others have him following her dodge to still land the powerful hits, the second making her pivot on bare toes, almost a pirouette worthy of ballet, but his step inside and the other kick nearly doubles her over that limb.

Winded, her already hammering heartbeat skips a few paces when she coughs and is almost lifted off her feet! But in the lift-off she grabbed his leg and when she goes down her back arches, shoulders bow, impact absorbed to retaliate with her own upward kick, a scissoring split of legs to use momentum and impact for distance to roll her back to her feet just near the edgeof the yacht to peer over at Elijah, that unholstered Rhino firing one round down in front of Elijah as he makes to stand. "STAY!"

She wasn't using it on Red Hood, though… Not yet.

"In my family, the survivors wear the mantle." Pause, and lips part, a single strand of remaining gum *cracks*, is balled in tongue and plucked free. "Does it matter?" A small smile and the piece is flicked back towards Elijah over her shoulder and she is now returning the favor to Red Hood in a flurry of motions, her own kick feinting low, but in a switch the balance is shifted and several snaps seek diferent points on him, the Rhino holstered and locked into place once more.

Sometimes you have to… for the thrill of it..
"Slick moves." Red Hood grunts as her foot rockets his head backwards, his helmet absorbing the initial impact but not the follow up. He skips with the force of it back in a two step. If he was bare faced he would probably rub his lip off just to add to the visual.

"You kill him I'll rip out your spleen." Sounds weirder outloud. Note to self do not use that one again.

A knee blocks a kick, forearm blocking a fist and his open palm slaps off an knee. The dance back and forth of fast kicks and hits retaliated, back and forth in a blur of action. No hits landing on either of them.

"You're not too bad for a coked out wannabe. This is't a game and this ship is going down, baby." It is. Its been on fire for a while now and around the yachts front section water is burbling, telltale signs the ship is going under. Not that its moving swiftly. At least everyone was off… except the pilot.
"Shit." He says outloud. The man still on the ground clutching his ribs, he can't fully make it off the ship due to the hit he took. Thats entirely Jason Todd's fault too.

Returns come in the sudible sounds of impact, his heavier then her own, but none the less they both seek the same end goal and do it with no restraint.

His kick to the back of her knee brings her down to one, the other that sought to land upon her plexus with heel is caught, his instep twisted

"If I was here to kill him, it would be done. But a captain needs to go down with his ship. Hm?" Chin snaps back with a blow would have clattered her teeth but her own motion does not slow, stepping inside and with a thrust of hip she uses the pivoting spin to try and send him to the deck of the ship so she can head back for that dock.

"I am not playing." A flare of nostrils and a sniff. "Not fully…. Not where it counts. I know the ship is going down, you're welcome…" A thumb to the Pilot. "Just not to him. Bad day." Tsk and she winks at Red Hood, neverminding some of the bruising that wants to flourish to the surface of skin.

Another step back and she heading for Elijah, leaving Hood to decide what he was going to do.

The exchange and withdrawel has Red Hood weighing the options here, "I do want him dead though." The anti-hero explains. "He's reached the end of his lifespan."

"Technically, that is the captain." A gun thrusts out at the fallen man she just thumbed at. Currently he is trying to climb out but slipping in water and what looks like spilled alcohol. "The pussy with the broken ribs."

"Look, Ravager, back the hell off or I am going to actually shoot your ass." Serious voice time.

"Elijah Wilks is mine. You don't want to make an enemy of me." Words work right? They need to. He's running low on time but fortunately Mr. Wilks isn't moving, hes curled in place with hands up, palms exposed.

Ravager is stepping back, keeping her eyes on him with every pace that takes her closer to Elijah until she is right beside him, her hand lowering to his head, it almost looks like she was about to pet him, until her hand knots in his pale hair, lifting him above the position of obiesance to lower downand hover her profile just bside his and whisper to him. Wide eyes show whites and when he is released he is nodding his head rapidly.

"My job is done." A turn then, slowly to watch the burning yacht start to slip beneath the waters, bags of cocaine popping to the surface like boueys. "I just told him to use listerine. Wont tarnish his grill."

"Enemies are part and parcel. Just remeber I like toffee chocolates." A turn then and one hand reaches up to press her shoulder, a slow roll and she is more focused on walking precariously off the docks barefoot and not stepping on anything that would require shots or amputation.

Hope he doesn't mind the fact that that final tiny explosion goes off and dunks Elijah right into the bay. He'll live! He can swim, right?

Red Hood's gun stops aiming around and spins in to a reholster. Fancy trick. It also says hes had the safety on for a few. Almost the entire time really. "I don't even know what your job is or was, you came just to sink his ship, for real?"

"Next time Ravager one of us won't be walking away." He flicks his chin up, the red helmet shifting so he can see beyond the slits, "Stay out of Gotham and I might just send you a box of toffee chocolates." And not an explosive pack of gum. Despite his rough tone a small smirk has been plastered across his face. It's not coke or alcohol for him it adrenaline and amusement. Its not often he gets to engage in fisticuffs with someone on par with him.

A crummy night for Red Hood. Something that should have been cut and dry went south and sloppy because of a Wilson.
"Seriously?" He inquires s Elijah is deposited in to the bay. No matter. Red Hood won't go in after him, no, he is going to wait and see if the guy surfaces first. If not… well, job done in one fashion.

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