2013.05.13 - Hammer Heroics

"Uh, Mister Hammer?" comes a voice over Justin's personal line. His secretary, a leggy if somewhat perpetually confused woman, speaks with an unusual quiver in her voice. "There's a, uh... man here. I don't know how he slipped past security, but, um, he's um... scary. And he says he's got an appointment? And that you're expecting him? And something about chimichangas?" she says, in that annoying tone that always ends with an upward inflection. "Should I tell him you're out of the office?"

It takes a moment for Justin to process what he's hearing. He, and some of his staff, are in the office late due to yesterday's lab accident. So someone having an appointment to see him is pretty much a no-go. After all, HE didn't expect to be here tonight, so why the hell would he have scheduled a meeting with someone? "Yeah, tell'im I'm not here. And call security," he responds rather curtly to the secretary. This one's smarter than the last one he had, and so far has lasted longer, so hopefully she'll make this little issue go away. He hits the speaker phone button and ends the call, turning his attention back to his computer screen.

"Ok, so- I mean, I'm new to the tech industry," a new voice says over the line a moment later. It's the voice of a madman, implying a vast cacophany of other voices and witty internal monologues. Even over a phone connection. "So maybe it's supposed to work that way. But when you announce on a speakerphone that 'I'm not here', I tend to automatically roll to disbelieve, y'know?"

The phone clicks off, then on again. "Mister Hammer, he is very insistent that he has an appointment. He has a post it note that says 2 PM on it. And I can't get through to security, for some reason." Karla pages: Hey Ham, wanna rp?

What the hell? None of this makes sense, and that voice was just creepy. The CEO has too think quickly. "Tell him to give me 2 minutes to clear my schedule," Hammer replies quickly and again cuts the phone connection on his end. He picks up the hand set and dials the extension for security, and it kicks straight over to voice mail. He hits the switch hook and tries again. Same thing. Scowling, Justin pulls out his cell phone and dials the number of a cell phone that the security watch commander is supposed to keep on him at all times...

The door- a reinforced steel number- swings open on heavy pinned hinges. A man stands in the doorway, and how he made it past security armed with a pair of katanas and no small amount of military weaponry is anyone's guess.

"So, like- pro security tip," Deadpool says, flicking the secretary's access card against his fingertip. "Don't leave the key to your security door in the pocket of your secretary." He holds up a piece of 'Hello Kitty' stationary that says '2 pM' on it in childlike letters. "And I think we /do/ have a 2PM, Mister Hammer. And I think you're /late/," he adds, crossing thick forearms across his chest. That sounded funnier in our head. Yeah. I don't think it translates well into written humor. I was going for this sort of 80s 'time to take out the trash!' sort of thing. Well, you suck.

The cell phone drops out of Justin's hand as the doors swing open and the heavily armed mercenary type steps in. The call had gone to voice mail, just like the land line attempts, so it would have done little good had Hammer managed to keep ahold of it. The CEO isn't unarmed, he has a pistol with him, concealed under his suit coat in a mid-back holster, but he doesn't make a grab for it. Looking at this guy, he'd be dead before he could pull the weapon clear. "W-We did, did we?" Justin says with a very forced grin that closer to a grimace, and a stutter in his words. "Please forgive me, it's been more than a little crazy around here." Oh holy hell...

"Nice digs," Deadpool comments. He wanders over to Justin's private liquor stash and eyes it appraisingly, then reaches for a bottle of Glenlivet that probably costs more than most people make in a month. He rolls up his mask an inch or two, revealing thick scars around his mouth, and promptly takes four or five heavy chugs from the bottle. "Hey, not bad," Deadpool says approvingly. He drops the bottle back onto the liquor shelf. "So, here's the deal, HammerTime," Deadpool says, rubbing his hands together calculatingly. "I'm a simply guy. But I have expensive tastes. Not like that Joker asshat," he says. " 'Guns, and knives, and gasoline, and it's cheap!' You know what's /not/ cheap? Ammunition!" Deadpool declares. "Also, ray guns! And when are you science guys gonna get started on lightsabers?"

Deadpool suddenly comic-leans into Justin's personal space. Waaaay into his personal space. "Hey, be honest. Are you guys working on lightsabers? Oooh!" He claps his hands like a second grader. "Do you wanna go see the new Star Trek movie with me?! It comes out next week!"

Justin starts to protest as the intruder goes after the liquor, but bites back the comment. Now is NOT the time to let his temper flare, as it could very well get him dead. He sits there, still as a statue, watching Deadpool carefully as he tries to think of how to handle this. Hopefully that dingbat secretary of his has physically run down someone in security. That is, if she's still alive. The thought doesn't have a chance to settle in his mind when the mercenary's face draws way to close for comfort. Hammer leans back, eyes going wide behind his glasses. "Eh, light- uh, what?" He can't even seem to form a complete thought before the intruder's gone off on a completely different subject. The guy is obviously insane, which makes him far more dangerous. "I-I really don't, uh, have a lot of... I'm not a big fan of sci-fi?"

Thirty inches of steel whistles between Justin and Deadpool, spinning in a glimmer flourish. "It's like one of these!" Deadpool proclaims, waving the tip of the katana under Justin's nose. "But made of /light/. Or, I don't know, plasma or hope or something imaginary like that," he says with a sniff. "But it cuts through /anything/."

Deadpool scratches his temple with the back of the katana's recurve. "What was I saying? Oh, right. Hostages!" He drops the katana point-first between Justin's feet and moves towards the desk, dropping into Justin's chair and kicking his feet up onto the desk. "See, I need some firepower. And some money. And you have firepower /and/ money. So you have what I need. But I have what /you/ need. /Style/," Deadpool says, making jazzhands. Jazzhands make everything cooler. "See, I just took your entire office hostage! And I took you hostage! And I called it in, so, there's like, news media all over the place."

At that very moment, a News Copter 5 helicopter swings by the window, cameraman leaning intently towards Justin's hi-rise. "And I have just given /you/ a chance to be an uber badass who is gonna make the psychotic hostage-taker go away." Deadpool makes a finger gun, points it to his temple, and drops his thumb. "Bang. And all I'm asking for is some bus fare and a few t-shirts from your gift shop and access to some of your unauthorized storage facilities that I assumed you have."

The CEO doesn't even have a chance to flinch before the katana blade has passed him. That was quick, and close. Way too close. Yes, Justin is a weapons expert. Yes, he's a hell of a shot, as good as some of the professional competition shooter. But what he isn't is combat ready. No amount of book smarts, tech specs or bullets down range have prepared him for a situation like this. He's freaked, and it shows pretty clearly on his face. He jerks visibly as the katana lands between his feet, sticking straight up out of the hardwood floor. /Oh, god, I'm going to die.../

The intruder's words snap the CEO back into reality. The psycho wants to bargin, so there may be a chance. Steeling himself Justin straightens, glancing out the window at the thundering chopper blades then back to Deadpool. "S-so let me get this straight," his tone starts to level out as he thinks this over. Business is his forte, and this is starting to look more like a business deal. A terrible one, but something negotiable. "You want money and weapons, and a very public "death"?" Hammer actually has the nerve to make the air quotes when he says 'death'. "I can't give you access to the facilities, but I can get you weapons, and cash."

"Aww, c'mon, Justin," Deadpool wheedles. "I don't want state secrets or R&D information. I just wanna come in, field test some new toys, maybe steal a beer out of the fridge once in a while. If you think about it, I'm doing you a twofer favor- you'll get more field test work outta me than you'd get out of a special forces team." Deadpool spreads his hands, looking utterly at ease behind Justin's desk. "And I would get a /ray gun/!" Deadpool says, clapping his hands again.

Hammer's business instincts kick in, helping to override the adrenaline and sheer panic response. /Stay focused, keep him talking,/ Justin thinks as he shakes his head. "No dice. No facility access," he states clearly, not acknowledging the ray gun comment. "I can offer you weapons dropped at pre-planned locations, arrangements would be made to keep both your, and my, identities confidential."

Deadpool grouses and harrumphs, but relents, swinging his feet off the desk as the helicopter makes another pass. He walks past Justin, retrieving his katana, and sheathes the weapon. "Well, fine. But if you miss a drop, I'll just swing by a research shack and pick up whatever's new. Ooh, you ever played Doom? Can you do a BFG?" Deadpool makes his hands explode and goes BSSSSKHHAHGH. "Awesome. Oh, the news copter is swinging around. If you're gonna shoot me, now's a good time to do it," Deadpool says, producing a pair of pistols and aiming them at Justin. "Disarmed the claymores is pretty easy. Just cut the blue wire." He frowns. "Or was it the green?" I wouldn't know. I'm colorblind.

The psychopath seems to have forgotten about the money, and Justin doesn't bring it up. He also didn't set up any line of contact, so the CEO assumes he'll be in contact at a future date. That's well and good, hopefully he can get some additional security measures in place before the merc contacts him again. Justin hates being played for a fool, and if he can get the upper hand, he'll take it. Perhaps not so surprisingly, Hammer actually grins and responds to the video game reference. "BFGs are my specialty," he replies.

When the two pistols are pulled and leveled on him, Justin reacts appropriately. Part of it is the pre-planning of the merc's death, but it's mostly a gut reaction. Not nearly as smoothly as he would have hoped, Hammer reaches back and pulls his H&K .40 pistol, aiming it at the intruder's center mass. Most likely he's wearing armor, but the thought doesn't really cross the business man's mind. /Disarming the claymores? There are mines in here somewhere?/ The mention of claymore mines startles him enough that he pulls the trigger without a lot of forethought.

Deadpool waggles his pistols. "Ok, so, center mass, multiple shots, really sell it. Scream a little bit," he adds. "Y'know, try to sell it. If you can generate some blood spatter, it'll really sell it for the news van." Deadpool levels his pistols and starts shooting wildly at Justin, somehow completely missing from less than ten yards. "And, uh, don't think you can screw me out of this deal, mister Big Damn Hero," Deadpool adds. "Or I'll TP your house and then call up Tony and tell him you wear lady's underwear."

This is the second time in less than a week that Justin has been exposed to gunfire during violent crime. The fact that thought crossed his mind during the situation will likely be a curiosity later, when he has a chance to mull this whole thing over. But right now, it's time for action. The snide comments from the merc are nearly missed for the hail of gunfire, and it's the shooting, not the words, that spur Hammer into action. The P2000 he carries has a long trigger pull, and though he had started to fire at the mention of the claymores, he had balked when the merc started talking again. He doesn't hesitate this time.

-*BANG* The first round fires from the CEO's carry weapon, and on pure muscle memory he fires again, letting up on the trigger just enough to reset the hammer so the trigger pull for the second and third shots is much shorter. He's close, but between the adrenaline coursing through his veins and how much the light little gun jumps, his grouping isn't what it could have been. At least he did the smart thing and went for center mass, he would have been out of luck on a head shot.

Blood splatters the windows, which shatter and crack, and Deadpool crashes out through a pane, plummeting down to the ground.

"I can see my hoooooouuse...!"

From far below, there's the sound of a crash, and sirens.

If he had been wearing armor, there wouldn't have been blood, right? Or was it some sort of ruse, a trick since the merc seemed to have had this planned out? It's odd what thoughts go through one's mind when there's a crisis at hand. Another curiosity to be puzzled out later. Justin steps toward the shattered window, looking down toward where Deadpool must have landed, then out at the circling choppers. What the hell just happened?