A Wilson's Worth

September 09, 2018:

The Ravager gets a warm welcome home from Task Force X. (language warning)

Characters

NPCs: Amanda Waller, Sugarman

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

The old roads of Robbinsville off the center strip that leads in to the wall of stores, residential homes and forest of structures the more modern location is known for. Not as corrupt as many parts of Gotham until someone gets near Bowery or Sheldon Park.

The earthquakes of 2009 ravaged this area and it was never renovated, it has fallen in to broken dissuse and much of it is blockaded off.

Tonight it is getting some form of an audience, black sedans, SUVs and figures stand center a smooth stretch of pavement, once a foundation that was leveled then dozed, the most effort put in. Big blocks of former support, cement, asphalt, rolled up chainlink, a bicycle steering wheel, these say once there was more here.

Taskmaster in all white, skull mask, armor, weapons consisting of bow, a handgun, a sword, his shield, an assortment of arrows, explosives and toys stands beside a small unit of nondescript black clad men and women, they wait patiently, weapons trained on a device thats situated in the very middle of the area. A block that was opened up, a strange stone hovers just above the lowest pad, glowing with a runic like set up of sstrange alien heiroglyphs.

"Beacon set and sending out the call to Special Executive."

The man on the ground near Taskmaster with a finger up to his ears nods over to them, "Waller says other side confirms. Black Room clearance being awaited."

Taskmaster sighs, walking in a slow circling pace. Left to right and back again.

"We're almost a go…" Time ticks by as they sit there for what to the mercenary feels like forever.

"Black Room clearance is through. Patching in."

There is a trill noise and that object in the very center of the pad starts to spin like a top, whirling fast, tracers forming around it as it goes from cube to orb then SNAPS out of reality only to emit a loud bang as there is a brilliant white-blue and dazzling effect of lights, a portal, Taskmasters no stranger to paranormal means of travel, its still out of this world and off but hes no stranger. The men and women around him shield eyes while also weapons are snapped up, rounds chambered and the air around them stills.

Opposite side that portal a Preying Mantis like creature recent to Ravager's travels motions forward, pointing it's barbed and hooked limb at the strange set up of tech, a wide room off a cliff, the /package/ of the mutli-armed dimensional traveler behind her hauled in a meshnetting, charged with electricity and requiring grav bulbs to keep aloft. Hovering 2-3 feet off the ground. There is a strange chirp noise from the Mantis, it taps one mandable together then lifts its head up, ushering the dimensional-time-lost mercenary and her query through, or what is left of her prey. Sugar Man has seen much better days…

The claw - limb extends to the swordswoman, on the tip of it is what appears to be a card. Alien digits and what may be numbers and a read out. The lay out is familiar enough, she will know this is very likely a receipt or a new bill! <Safe travels and good hunting, Ravager.>

Ravager stands over her final Bounty in this New World, reformed boot planted beside the electrified netting that carries an evident body (fetal positioned within).

Swords are holsteredalong the back of her arms, tips spired along either side of platinum haired 'Deathness', like she would Reign Blood - She did. Fingerless gloves clench around the ties of the prison bag as the Preying Escort gives her new orders that slowly turn her head to reflect over the rising passageway back….

Home…?

Vazer shadows the patched side of her gaze, the blind side that is unseen while the pale blue is upon the End Game with her Bag of Sugar. The light tilt of her head draws a locked dred across her jaw, tipped in the Dune Coins, as she took her toll in the end of that fight and wore it as it should be. The slight acknowledgement to 'Laser' is all he gets before she starts to push towards the Gate she was pointed to. "O-X-O-2. Communications will cease…. Cleared.." Stated with a skip and pause before she picks back up, every pace that takes her to the portal with her Bounty has hunched shoulders straightening.

"Be free." Final and parting words to Vazer as she finally turns to look at him in a quick and snapp about-face! One that seeks to lunge her package through the Gate and back…

Home… :

When Ravager comes through to the other side her swords are within their proper carriage on her back, that massive modified rifle is in her hands, held aloft by hands long covered in grime and calloused, the sight narrowed and focused upon by the single eye that was portrayed as the '20/20', but the patch is flipped upward and the other flares alive with the backdrop of the Gate's residual release, bringing it back to it true capacity.

She did not know who or what she would come through to, but she would gladly pull a trigger that would explode a Bagged Sugarman and Company, including self, if she had to.

Wilson's finish the jobs, and Deathness will keep her promise.

The desert mutant uplifts a clawed hand as Rose departs. Several others behind him, shadowed out of view but watching as the Ravager leaves their reality, hauled behind her the mark she came here for. No words, those all exchanged earlier before the Special Executive bounty hunters began to access their Technet resources and begin a dimensional transfer of more than the soon to be delivered goods. Promises and bargains. The real meat.

The BOOM-rattle of reality, a wave of distortion and light in a starburst, in and outwards, the first thing to land in front of the horse-shoe lined up unit of black clandestine soldiers is the bound up netted Sugar-Man, who, unconscious is in one piece, this was a precaution learned that he had to be KEPT in one piece, trial and error. The electro-net keeping a current running through the oddly mishappen and giant headed sadist from an alternate future.

As soon as the large form touches down, one of those grav pads sputters and lights go out on it, it tips to slam the front most portion of the monstrous mutant on the asphalt.

Click-click-click, weapons, 'chunk' a LIGHT a series of them and the device and it's 'desposited' vistors are lit up like Christmas. Not one but a dozen bright LED projected circles stack up to illuminate the flat expanse of old Robbinsville.

"HANDS IN THE AIR AND WEAPONS DOWN!" A loud voice demands, projected by a piece of equipment over the man's face. It is hard to make out more than shadows, shapes and silhouettes of the individuals but above, smog filled skies, trash smelling waterways, city pollutants, a barely visible New Moon and one floating airship with the words STAGG ENTERPRISES bold along it's side are visible from here. One of several that are unique to Gotham itself… she is definitely home.

Ravager's silhouette in the transporting grav-pad seems to keep her back to Vazer and the "shadows" of people, but from around pauldroned shoulder and the scrapped skull emblazoning she is watching them from periphery. There are some things, people, lessons… She will remember.

The grip on her rifle is held, no 'safety' truly upon the massive charged rifle even though a fake button resides just below a thumb that is tipped in a coal color and jagged nail. No move even for it. Instead she is gripping the base to snap the pivot-point of the modified Corner Shot where the barrel begins to spin and spark like a contained Tesla Coil over the netted captive, Sugarman, while a lens is capturing just over Ravager's shoulder via a red lazer pinpoint of an 180 degree angle.

Ravager may be Home, but another Home got her back, and she adapted brutally - displayed as that weapon whine-charges over the captive in her own threat.

"You get One,"(After all of the shit I have been through, really?!?)

(Fuck you Wall) "Of your demands." A single hand bearing tattered gloves ripped to revealing fingers extends her single… Middle. Digit. Upon lifted arm.

"Fuck. You. Channel Cleared." Gold star for message delivery!

"Thatta girl." Taskmaster's voice cuts through the noise. "Lookin' all sorts of Mad Max but thats definitely our missing Wilson." The white cloaked, white skulled mercenary struts forward, just past the lights so he is visible to the newly arrived Rose Wilson. "Bagged an ugly one."

"Enough chatter. You're a professional, act like it." A new voice joins from the black sedan, Amanda Waller - unmistakable. Tucked under one hand is a cell phone; lit up from recent use.

"Follow protocol. This is a breach from possible hostiles. Step aside Taskmaster."

"Sorry, kiddo." Taskmaster says to Ravager, "Good to see you again though." He adds then hes behind the line up brightness once more. Joining the firing squad.

"Wash the area. Take them down. Secure, quarantine and relocate. We are on a schedule here." The head of Task Force X orders roughly. She is already calling in the clean up crew as there is a resounding launch of weapons, no bullets, just fired off rounds of electrical discharges, a pop pop pop snap snap fzz and even CRACKLE of continous fire on not just Sugar Man's already captive self but the Ravager as well. Non-lethal at least.

Just very… nap time….

Quite the light show, a serious dazzling display until the smoke lifts off bodies and vans pull in, suited up men in BIOsafe suits begin to wrap up all contents, mark off the area then the next phase starts up… the HUGE fire, pyromaniacs this side of the city hasn't seen since Firefly took a trip down Kane Bridge.

Through shutters of pale strands that cast slits of shadows over her face, as well as those eyes - both sparking to life(again); Taskmaster is watched in his approach. A breath is taken in and let out in ragged broken moments as if one form a sanity is meeting another to the point that the massive charging weapon rattles in her grip that almost lowers*lessens*…

Sorry, kiddo?

The echo of a chasm within a reconnecting headpiece has her grinding her teeth when Taskmaster's retreat shadows that 'empty' socket, as well. Like Vazer. Those eyes snap towards the 'Squad' he steps behind and takes her own aim in a side-ways leap over the body of Sugarman who that discharge of rifle is aimed for with a ….

One impact casts her back and the rifle fire of AMPed charges aids in her rocketing placement away, her body jolting as skin singes and the charge is peeled away.

Every movement after is almost robotic, jerky, as if they had tranq's for a Racoon on a Kodiak Bear - Angel Dusted.

Light show indeed, and it was a war of fireworks for the mere minutes(seconds?) it lasted…

The weapon whines down spinning on it's side, having burnt a crescent along the broken pavement, as well as dislodged massive pock marks in a rapid fire that easily could have minced the captive and the captor, if she had gotten the chance to begin with.

Ravager skids to a land on her side with her hand extended for the rifle, curling her middle finger around the rigging just before another shadow befalls her and 'Lights Out' begins Festivities.

Later…

"Was all that really necessary?" Taskmaster sits back in to his seat near the DEO's Southeastern Director inside one of the SUVs in that small caravan. "I mean, fun as hell and the look on her face was just… priceless but damn. There are reasons people hate you."

"I don't really give a damn what convicts, criminals, terrorists, traitors and low lifes like you think about my methods, Tony." Waller replies while thumbing across her phone's screen. "Breachers secured. Transfer in progress." Text scrolls across it.

"Right, so you said before. Just uh, you ever hear that thing about catching more bees with honey. An' don't call me, Tony." The man remarks as they roll out of Gotham, towards Bristol and a National Guard airbase up north.

"We're not catching bees though are we. This is not a game and we are under a deadline right now. We will get Ravager back to Site Thirty, make sure she is clear, dry cleaned and the same person who we tracked going through and coming back. If not." A smile of painted lips while she flips the card taken from the woman's body, turning it end over end in her fingers. "I owe DELINT for this and Black Room. I hate owing anyone."

"Wilsons tend to be worth it." Taskmaster says quietly, looking out the window at the passing trees just beyond the road.

"Once upon a time… " Amanda Waller says with her own far away tone.

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