By Yacht, to the Castle

February 06, 2019:

A bunch of mercenaries and killers get invited to a party, and to a murder.

The Harbor of Metropolis

Characters

NPCs: Caroline le Fay

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

They would gladly swap. Yet, looking at the harbor of Metropolis right now with the Atlantic at their backsides it is hard to imagine just how horrible things have been. Once again, in the wake of staring down actual Hell on Earth the world… carries on.

The snow thats been pummeling North America only showing in icy white clumps here and there, rain has glossed over the cityscape making lights more vibrant and sounds muffled in downpour, rolling sporadic fogbanks up and down the coast and wind. It's almost peaceful. Which is more than most people could ask for.

A perfect night for a gathering of minds and powerful visionaries, or so they like to think… A yacht that sits three tiers above the Metropolis waters rocks in knocking slaps against a sturdy dockside. The lights upon it illuminate the entire deck but drawn curtains and heavy tinted glass obscures the insides. The stern is where a cluster of shilloutes are now gathering. Called in to presence by magical and technological summons, geas, cell phones, mental tugs. It's a central pull to one place or a simple GPS location
Easy, mysterious. Yet with those considered… no unfamiliar method of communication.

The yacht itself has a singular tell to it's ownership
Umbral Dynamics. Etched in lettering across the starboard side that is subdued in a darker blue almost black. It is there though, for those who manage to look.


June took a knee, settling her coat more closely around herself, bringing a pair of binoculars to her eyes, the lenses coated so as not to throw off a gleam from any ambient light she had surrounding her. She took her time, adjusting the magnification to get a better view of the yacht, scanning the length of it looking for an insertion point.


Grifter left his bike a few blocks from the harbor for safety reasons and now he is sorry. It is too freaking cold, and his coat is just not enough. Also, Metro is too bright even at night. He was getting used to Gotham.

Probably a bad idea; getting used to Gotham.

But he was invited, and convinced to come, and they probably have good stuff to drink, so what could possibly go wrong? Besides the usual. He spends a couple minutes studying the yacht, and then climbs onboard.


Izel, in all her incognto glory, was sent an invite.

Stilleto nails *tic*tap/ across a 'droid screen.

From the printer above the 'Hook, a couple sheets print and Izel takes one, folding it into an intricate pattern worthy of origami, but likely more pinata worth as it is tucked into her bras….

(siere?). A long coat of fur teases around exposed curves of skin as well as cross crossed straps of netting and enclosure. She came in looking like the 'Money' the Caballero's are made of, down to the diamond(glitter) dusted fall of lashes when she taps a button on her phone and exposes her entry to the boat in a flash of digi-light across faces…

If Jun is receiving from her perch, perhaps she is receiving a download request from one "ShugahBB' to her phone??

Grifter's presence is unknown thus far!


A yacht with a company name with these days isn't unaccostmed to being unarmored or lacking security. There is a lot of threats out there. There appears to be at least half a dozen armed men with high-tech rifles in suits covered in gortex like weather proofed ponchos. Not sailors, clearly security detail. More so by the UMBRAL DYNAMICS logs on their chests and ont he back SECURITY.

It doesn't appear as though anything hostile or criminal is going down beyond a Bond-esque villiany gathering of people under horrid weather conditions. Taskmaster himself is present, its Metropolis and public so hes wearing what looks slightly more than an armored hoodie, a distorted mask that keeps flickering poorly due to circuitry issues from an inducer and a multitude of weapons that are compact, folded and concealed. Its still with a particular former client who left him high and dry once.

A spam of skull emojis is fired off at the two females he does know through text. A taunt. How does he know they're there? The skull emojis break away to 'This bitch is loaded. May want to come on board and fill your pockets with shrimp and lobster.' (He texts very fast).

Grifter he has yet to see beyond a moving shadow and doesnt have the same means of communication.


A guard at the yachts side ramp, flashes a light out sweeping it once off and around. Last call for those boarding.

The download request came in, was accepted, a downlaod returned, schematics and as much as was known about the invite list. June did not move from her designated location. She had been on the invite list, RSVPed, such as those things were measured, but if she never showed, well, sometimes things happened. She had other business to handle. Parties were not generally in her skillset. Working out ridiculously weird emoji texts to send, in lieu of actual words, because that was so right now, that was completely up her alley. Protecting the assets on the ship? That was the other one's job. She glanced down at her phone, 'Squishy.'


Grifter forgot the tux in the other pocket. Or something. No, really, no one invites old plain Cole Cash to this kind of party, so he comes with the red mask and the work outfit, which includes black cargo pants, armored vest and armored coat.

In fact almost no one invites Grifter to yacht parties. His rep is not good enough. If someone did it means they know too much or they know too little. In any case he had nothing better to do tonight. He heads for the bar right away, checking the people along the way. He recognizes Taskmaster by his reputation, but not as the man he was twenty five or so years ago. He fails to recognize Sugar at all, since she looks like a real lady, and not a crazy hot ganger girl that shot him for a canister of Smilex a couple years ago.


June pushed up to her feet, her form shifting as she did so. And just like that, the Enchantress was the last one on board, even if she did magic herself to somewhere where the guards would be able to miss her. Or be made to miss her. Until she chose to be seen. Which of those it would be would depend on what she needed to do to complete the mission.


Inez is allowed entry just as Enchatress, AkA June, enters in her own way.

The walk is worthy of a runway, in fact - After the flash of invite to the bodyguard she is flipping her hair back, the dred-lets cast behind shoulders…

Bare as the coat slides down and slips fur hemline over thighs exposed in their fish-netting. *SELFIE!

A light flicker with the beam of a wide cheshire grin, but when lights flicker there is a run of mascara that seems like paisley around her 'good side', her eyes darkening like sockets.

In the space behind her June can see that light flicker, capture, and see the wink from the woman before she slips deeper, capturing a flute of champagne off a table in passing.


The thought the man's gesture was 'all aboard' couldn't have been more truth as the final forms of the now Enchantress, Inez and Grifter are escorted onboard. Towards that back clustering of bodies as the yacht itself, uncharacteristically and somewhat illegally drifts away from the harbor inlet out to sea and its rising falling waves.

Rounding the first rear walling the stern flickers, the visual blur of it more than just physical its as though nausea is being inflicted on everyone for a half-second, Grifter's mind will find itself freefalling, devoid of outside noises, Inez ends up sick as any human would and the Enchantress doesn't feel a damned thing beyond witnessing an abomination of technomagic in the works.

The yacht is no longer a yacht, they find themselves standing in the courtyard of a castle, stonework walls risen up around them. An iron gate that is lifted and locked barring them from the outside world and men, no, men and women in quasi-futuristic yet archaic knightly armor stand around the gathering in a horseshoe. A woman, aged, rather unimpressive looking stands at the front of this group. Short hair, vibrant green eyes, wrinkled features wearing a power suit of dark grays, blacks and purples. She smiles but it doesn't reach beyond her lips and teeth.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Welcome to my home."

A hushed whisper carries enough to be heard, "Carolina La Fay." Not from Taskmaster but another form, a man with slicked back stark white hair and a magicians outfit.


Cole barely had time to start the third drink. Life is unfair.

Teleporting then. Not the first time. Not something he can get used to easily. But whatever. The whole castle setup? Kind of excessive. Maybe it is Doctor Doom. No, old woman he has never seen or heard about.

Still better than Doctor Doom - almost without doubt. He nods politely in response to the welcome.


The Selfie! moment ends, and once they disembark it takes moments, the flute of champagne eye'd carefully while a small lurch only happens to Inez, sending her port-bow and to 'bow' of her own accord over the barring meant to keep people on the deck.

A few heaves, a few gulps of air, and the tear/smear/ of mascara is wiped back and away, fingertips arching it over her painted brows, below her lower lids and into a pattern that blends with the shadows beneath.

The faux-fur lined coat is now fallen along biceps, ink lined, decorated in a permanence, but one foreign and unfitting to this time and place. All the while Inez 'sniffs' and drags the back of her wrist, laden in 'pulsera', beneath her nose in a finality of nausea.

Now… She notes Cole, those pale hazel eyes focusing from the haze before they land on the Magician who whispered the loudest.

"Gracias, binaca por favor." A sniff into cupped palm after she speaks and her nose wrinkles…

Just like the hem line of her coat that slides further down a shoulder towards hip, leaving the tulle dress exposed..


"This shit again." Taskmaster grumbles. His hand rising up to his mask while another folds underneath his hoodie, gripping something to makesure its still there.
"Why the damn theatrics? Couldn't all just meet at a Waffle House?" The guttural voice of the mercenary incites several chuckles and murmurs from those around them, right now.

"Why not?" The woman retorts her smile not faultering, "It is a method of acclimation and to convey some understanding of what small things my cadre and I are capable."
"You're showing off." The white haired magic-man points out.
"Yes. I am." The quick response. "Not that I need to impress the likes of most of you, guns for hire, killers, mercenaries though others… " Le Fay lets her gaze sweep over Inez, Cole, Taskmaster then pointedly she looks towards Enchantress who has fallen silent with the assembly. So many new faces and minds to peer at…
"Well, different."

"Without wasting any more of our time let me get to the reason for this summons. Then you're all free to partake of my hospitality and come morning we will return just as we arrived back to Metropolis. I am hoping each of us leaves on the same accord but we shall of course see, won't we."
The elderly woman clears her throat, her smile fading to a small tight line.

"How many of you here have ever killed a God?"


Cole glances at Sugar when she speaks. He has heard that voice before, but… can’t say when. Well, it will come up, he has an excellent memory unless very drun…

Killed a god?? Yeah right. If he ever did, it is not something he will admit in public. Besides, there are many definitions of ‘god’ anyway.

His fellow mercenaries get a second glances. And then he spots Enchantress. Now that ONE is not the type that he expected to see her. “I need another drink,” he mutters to no one.


Inez is slowly slipping, one eye *tics* to narrow while her head tilts to the one watching Cole….

… Sliding to Taskmaster….

Stopping on the Techo-GrannyGodless.

A twitch of fingers and her hand remains empty beneath the fall of fur sleeve that leaves her manicured hand now covered while bodiced torso is exposed and bedazzled under the moonlight of the Chin-year.

A flagrant wave of opposing hand, the diamond studded tips of pointed nails flickering as she shakes her head and *z-snaps* an attentive recall to what she just heard while shaking her head in disbelief. "You mean killed a god, like Huracan, Od/ee/n, /J/esus, Zoroast?" A pause, tap on her chin as if in thought, even her eyes roll like he accented words.

"Nope, but I can get a list of who I have killed. Uno momento por favor!" A single digit rises as she starts texting…

Shaking her phone like she is strangling it seconds later…
No signal!

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