2013-01-23 Yum! BBQ Rat!

(Insert Log Text Here)DeadQuarters - Central Warehouse

This warehouse looks like it's seen better days. Worse days, for sure, but better days. It's a ramshackle structure with numerous broken windows and pieces of the high metal ceiling missing. It appears that at least recently, someone's begun taking measures to try and clean it up a bit. There are a few single-wide mobile homes scattered among the huge, rusting industrial equipment and piles of what's presumably ammunition manufacturing machinery. Several storage cages have been appropriated into housing.

The main office has been converted into an... office, with DeadQuarters! painted crudely above the door. A teller-style double window allows conversation with anyone inside the secured office space. The wire-mesh reinforced windows, much yellowed with age, reveal a combination office/bedroom, with a large security vault door behind that.

The DeadQuarters, despite being ugly and nasty and smelling of oil and either bad meat or good cheese, is a bustling hive of scum and villany. Dozens of mercs come and go from the little community that's sprung up. Most of them are on the lowest level of the game- players with a modest talent, or the ones who rent out hourly as thugs for hire. A few of them are serious players with a reputation and a respectable income, just swinging through to stay in touch with the industry and pick up jobs. And then there's Deadpool, who treats the DQ like his personal stomping grounds. He's sprawled out on a low lawn chair in front of the big bonfire that perpetually burns all manner of refuse in the center of the large concrete floor in the center of the factory. He has a cooler full of tequila next to him and what might be a rat or something turning on a spit next to the fire.

The man known simply as the Taskmaster is an enigma. He showed up to the mercenary game and swept in like a bat out of Gotham; kicking ass, taking names and collecting paychecks - he is downright near legendary in their circle, hell might have even taught some of these mooks here in the DeadQuarters. Legendary much like Domino and Deadpool in their own right (of course). What he is doing here? Well, that all goes to be seen. Full regalia for a show up like this, when the costume parties happen you can damn well be sure he's dressed to impress like all the other cool kids. "Smells in here." The skull masked fighter comments loud enough to be heard over those nearest the entrance.

There's plenty of reasons why Domino doesn't tend to spend a lot of time around this place. The smell, the rat on the spit, the lesser hacks that flock to the place, and the fact that it's completely run and organized by a man that's a few nuts short of a tree.

Still, once in a blue moon it can be beneficial to touch base. Knowing her luck, something useful might come out of the trip.

"Christ, that's an understatement. Wade, get some of your underlings to clean up this place while they're busy comparing calibers. It's not like you're short on hands." Of course, Taskmaster being all costumed up gets a look from Dom that falls short of approval. Who's -this- clown, now? Someone with a lot of money to afford all of those guns, at least. By comparison, she's just some gothed out chick in a black leather trench.

"Didn't stink until you walked in," Deadpool quips at Taskmaster. He rotates the rat on the stick. He's wearing board shorts and a flowery Hawaiian shirt, and a pair of big sunglasses under a floppy hat. "Domino, what brings you to my happy little home? Finally giving in to those feelings for me, huh?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. "Huh? Huh? Ahh, we all knew it was gonna happen," he says with a dismissive wave.

"That new smell that just entered is what you can call excellence and pure awesome. You should waft it in while you can, it's the closet you'll come to it." Taskmaster in turn fires back. Straightening up as he looks the joint over his skull somehow contorts in to a frown eyes settling on Domino then Deadpool. Surely they're the most outlandish looking here? Kind of. Domino could easily be overlooked as just some goth in the wrong place but it's all about the simple movements, body language and that... Task knows well.

Dom clasps her hands together, putting on a little show just for Deadpool's sake. "Ooh, how'd you know, sweetie? I just couldn't bear the thought of another night of drinking myself stupid without you." --Wait. That attitude. And the skull mask? Her eyebrows lift slightly as she turns to regard the man arriving beside her under a new light, hands edging their way onto her hips. "Well, I see you're starting to attract more than just the dregs these days. Taskmaster..right?" she asks while pointing toward the man in question. "I hear we have you to thank for most of the new blood running around the tri-city area."

"Well, duh. Who else would it be in that getup?" Deadpool points out to Domino. He takes the spit from the fire and starts messily biting into crunchy rat carcass. "Didn't you get the last issue of Mercs Monthly? He's on the 'Who's New?' for the seaboard here." Deadpool unscrews a bottle of tequila and promptly chugs two thirds of it. He belches sonorously. "Not much of a hitter. Does more work in training and security than he does actual wetwork. Hires out to all kindsa folks." He looks at Taskmaster, then holds up his cell phone. "I checked out your Wikipedia entry," he explains, waggling the device.

A light nod comes from Taskmaster at Domino's acknowledgement. "That would be me and you... I can't say I know your name but I am sure I should know it." No memory of her pops up for him but that isn't anything out of the ordinary for the man. "Perhaps some of them the good ones." Probably not entirely true. You can only work with what you're given. A slight shift of his posture and he is looking at Deadpool, "Yes. Because the internet never lies. Not much of a hitter?" Scoff.

"I've had my own problems to worry about," she says in her defense, trying not to outwardly cringe as that rat is torn into. That rat was caught locally, wasn't it. She doesn't want to think about what it looked like before getting itself killed and skewered. "Really high-rollin' around this part of town, aren't you." He ..checked the wiki, what..? Probably best not to think about it. "So long as some other idiot didn't try to take my name in the scene while I've been busy, name's Domino. If you're not used to our pal Deadpool over there, don't let his verbal jabs get to you. He's full of them, among other things."

Speaking of, her attention goes right back to the mouthy merc. "Been doing anything worthwhile, or are you single-handedly tackling this city's rodent problem?"

"Hey. Rodent control is a major health issue. I'm taking back our city one rat at a time. Guy's gotta eat, you know?" Deadpool points out to Domino. "So what brings you two down to the DeadQuarters? Domino you gonna put that trailer in here? I saved you a spot, baby. Right next to my office." He waggles his brows at Domino and gestures to a vacant location next to the office marked DeadQuarters, where a sign 'Deadpool's Girl' keeps it in reserve. And there are Christmas lights up!

"Domino? You were in Guam once a few years back weren't you? Nice work there." Some of that typical respectful career acknowledgement. "And I have heard the rumors about the 'crazy red ninja', merc with a mouth', whatever else ridiculous title he has been given, called or dubbed himself. I'm unimpressed so far." Taskmaster can't help but sound a bit pompous. It's part of his nature. Walking closer to the two so he is in actual conversational range the half-sneer/half-cringe can't be seen as he watches Deadpool feast. "Surely you're not hurting so bad for work you've resorted to rats?" No answer on why he is here yet.

A tiny groan emits from Dom's throat, head slowly dropping into an empty palm. "Why do I do this, again?" she asks herself. Deep breath. Composure regained. Back to Taskmaster she looks, inclining her head slightly in affirmation. "Yeah, done a little out that way. The flight's boring as hell, but money talks." What's really amazing, though..? The man with a -skull mask- turns out to be easy to get along with. She's rather shocked to discover this. "Deadpool may be more flighty than a blind pigeon with a blowtorch under its feet, but he does have ways of making up for it. Care to see my personal favorite?" she asks Task with a downright wicked grin.

"Becuase you luuuuuuuuv meeee," Deadpool croons at Domino. "Also Dom, I swear to Gork and Mork, if you shoot me, I'll shoot back, and we'll see who can go shot for shot before someone's bleeding out on the floor." He slurps his tequila threateningly through a crazy straw. "And I've got so much work I'm /bored/. It's all stupid stuff, like escort work, or bodyguarding. Bodyguarding is /boring/. No one wants anyone killed anymore. I'd love a job where I can just, y'know, do some killin' now and then. It keeps things exciting."

The exchange of odd banter between the two goes noted but more or less overlooked. "Money is the universal and best language." How agreeable of him. They are after all a crowd of guns-for-hire. The grin from Domino only has him intrigued. "Please do." Ulterior motives behind that of course. Deadpool drinking down his swirly straw and eating a rat gets his attention again. "You are weird as hell." Taskmaster mutters. "I suppose the internet doesn't always lie."

Dom's almost tempted to take Wade up on that offer. He heals, she's lucky. Care to guess what the odds are of his gun jamming on the first pull of the trigger? Tempting as it is, she leaves it be. There's already enough testosterone flying around this place to choke a horse. "Just because you're bored doesn't mean that you should take all of -my- fun."

Of course, Deadpool did only threaten -her-...

Hands back on hips, Dom looks at Taskmaster and motions toward Deadpool with her head. "Go ahead. Shoot him. Show you just how weird he is." Then she can see how Taskie here handles himself with a gun, too! Two birds, one bullet. Some days it really does not suck to be her.

How, or more importantly, where, Deadpool was storing a .45 SMG is anyone's guess. It didn't really look like he was armed. But in a movement so mooth it's almost sleight of hand, he's got an SMG out and on his lap. "First, I'ma shoot you," Deadpool assures Taskmaster, pointing a wobbly finger in his general direction. "Then, Domino, I'ma shoot you on general princplez." He belches again. "Why can't we all sit down and have a drink like a bunch of civilized mercenaries?"

"He is eating a rat when we're blocks away from a pizza joint. I don't need to see how much weirder he gets."

Taskmaster is no idiot and admittedly has a bit of a cowardly side to him. He is not about to fly in to this blindly while never having seen either of them in action. "Civilized? Hah." The man grunts out, "No. No shooting today." He says with narrowed eyes at the SMG; wondering exactly that... where the hell? "This is just a social call. I'm in town, I may as well meet my /peers/."

Domino just -grins- at Deadpool's reaction to their conversation. Civilized mercs? "Show me one and we'll go from there." All the same, she wanders closer to the fire to claim a seat all to herself. Mid-seat flopping, she motions Taskmaster over. "May as well make yourself at home, everyone else here does. Been a damned crazy month, can barely keep track of myself anymore. If -you're- having trouble finding killing jobs then you're looking in the wrong places, kiddo. Could probably set you up with one, if you want. How about you, Task. What's your poison? Gotta be something more to you than training runs."

"I have no peers. I am peerless. I get bonus experience points because I do my missions by either going completely unseen or murdering everyone. And I loot them for spare change and wedding rings and the occasional healing potion." Deadpool belches, tosses his empty tequila bottle, and starts on a new one. "I have plenty of killing jobs, just nothing /interesting/. It's all like, mob stuff, contract killings. Fat businessmen with a rentacop security guard. I haven't killed anyone cool in /forever/."

Taskmaster hesitates only a moment before he motions with weaponless palms at Deadpool, "Civilized professionals and all that jazz." He says as if that should clear the water. Hands still up he follows Domino's lead and slowly sits down. "Work is good. I admit I'm bored with the training and babysitting as well but then that is why I am here after all. You want to put that away and we can all make nice?"

Domino silently rolls her eyes, appearing to simply melt into her seat in an entirely unlady-like fashion. "Oh would you put your arms down already? You're making me nervous." It's kind of entertaining, though. Is this guy really afraid of the mouthy one? Point to his caution, or paranoia. Either or. "Mmh, -exciting,- lemme think... Next time I get a hit on a volcano I'll keep your name in mind, that got the blood flowing some. Really, they've got you doing those craptastic runs? Someone out there isn't fully appreciating your potential." And now, there's Taskie, too. Looking to expand his horizons a little. "You're in a good corner of the globe for the work. Almost always something devious in need of doing within a six hour travel window, Gotham in particular."

"What? Hell no. For all I know, you're gonna shoot me. Again. And getting shot HURTS." Deadpool takes another slurpy drink of tequila. "Everyone's way nicer to me when they think they're gonna get shot. I have a new rule- make everyone think they're gonna get shot. It's working out well." He takes another bite of rat. "I should swing through Gotham. Work for Falcone for a while, then go work for his competition. Then go work for the PD. Then go kill 'em all alphabetically. Domino, I'm so boooooooooored," he whines to the woman.

"And the gun is making me nervous." Taskmaster replies, he doesn't know Deadpool like she does, doesn't have magical mutant luck on his side or a super healing factor so yes he has grounds for being cautious. "I suppose if we're all getting cozy..." A quick roll of his own hand and a semi-automatic pistol is pointed back in return, safety thumbed off but no action being taken to fire while producing what appears to be a flask from a pouch on his chest the cap is taken off and he lifts it up in a waver of cheers. "Gan Bei." A quick swig taken under the mask. "Was just in Gotham, had to drop off some crazy broad I met on another gig."

"Pain relieves boredom," Domino oh so helpfully suggests. The other cure for boredom which comes to mind she keeps entirely to herself. "Also, I was talking to Newbie here," she corrects while thumbing back to Task. The same man that just magically pulls out a weapon of his own, which gets a tiny but appreciative sound from the back of her throat. Maybe this boy can dance, after all. "The only time I worry about you is when you -don't- have a weapon handy, Wade. Now look, rather than bitching about being bored, why not get off your ass and do something about it? What's your cure? Skydive infiltration, car chase, demolition work, shootout in a mall..? Identify the problem, then address."

"Me?" she continues while hooking a black armored leg over the arm of her chair, "I'd like thirty hours in a day. I'm currently researching plans on slowing the Earth's rotation. Making alterations to a planetary body's a real piece of work, plan on investing some time." Task's comment about dropping someone off is cause for her face to show some irritation. "See, that's not exciting, either. Something's gotta change or this is going to become Deadbeat Central."

Deadpool wiggles the fully automatic .45 SMG in everyone's general direction. "Ok, see? Now we're all on the same page. Everyone's armed, and we're all in our comfort zones." He belches again, this time losing a little gout of black smoke that trickles out of his mouth onto the ground. "Well, I mean- I do have this whole plan for taking over Hell, and that's still going. And someone was saying, specialized combat force of mostly ninjas and operators for going around, doing heroic stuff, righting wrongs, that kind of thing. That could be fun. We'd be like those Xavier jerks. Xavier-men. But a... force factor 10 higher. So like... X-force? X-factor? I don't know."

A flask in one hand and a gun in the other. Deadpool is right comfort zone about sums it up. "Newbie? Listen here... ah hell with it." A slight shake of the head and he is taking another drink from that flask all the while managing to never show his face only the stubble outline of a jaw. "Look, I have a job here. I am not here looking for work... this is just a social call. A meet and greet, I don't need work nor am I bored I just... " He just what? He's lost his train of thought now and in coming here it all was planned out on happening differently. These two are confusing but he is amused, irritated to some extent but still amused.

Black smoke..? Domino sets her jaw, fighting back a shudder. Not something she wants to think about. Fortunately, something else comes up to take its place. "Do I have to take that away from you?" she pointedly asks Deadpool. "Muzzle discipline, get some."

Then she's back to cringing. Specialized combat force. Righting wrongs 'Doing heroic stuff.' She's heard this one before. Attempted it, too. "Ah..yeah, hey. Good luck with that." Luckily, she's an expert at repressing memories.

"Newbie in that you're not a regular to Deadpool's little clubhouse," she offers, regardless. When Taskmaster's explanation falls short she's quick to give him an expectant look, willing him to continue. No, nothing..? "You're just stuck in something you'd rather not be stuck in," she attempts to finish for him. "If you've got issues, there's some really great shrinks in this town. If you've got -problems,- you're in good company."

"It gets me all hot when you talk like that, dollface," Deadpool says with an expressive waggle of his eyebrows at Domino. "'sides, I know you're packing. And you've shot me /way/ more than I've shot you. And I like this shirt! So I'ma keep my baby right where she is." He pats the SMG affectionately. "Also, little? Clubhouse? My home this is!" he declares in a Muppity voice. "You'd like it, if you hung out here more. Lots of work, camraderie, and all the mooks to slap around you could want."

"So it's true huh? You can't die?" More of that rumor he's caught wind of. That bit of information catching his attention more than anything else that was just said. Taskmaster likes Domino so far, practical, down to earth, a professional, easy on the eyes. He's on the fence with Deadpool here, seems like a wildcard and too unpredictable - that usually breeds sloppy. Real test is to actually see them do something more than run mouth and banter. The flask is offered out while he kicks back a bit, one combat laced up foot propping over his knee. "So, I'll bite. How about we find a big job, something that'll require some extra muscle. The three of us? You get unbored, lady friend gets some cash and alleviation from your boredom and I make some new pals?"

"Sorry, your -home,-" Dom corrects with a lax wave of her hands from where they stay draped over the sides of the chair. "You may have a point, though. Being able to harass you again reminds me of the fun I've been missing out on," she kids with a lopsided grin. "Yeah, and maybe I have been a bit detached from the warm fuzzies of this life." Speaking of warm fuzzies, if Taskmaster is offering a drink then she'll take him up on the offer. "A random chance gathering of professionals, embarking upon a mission for cash, guts, and glory. Has some possibility. Either of you been out of the country recently? For a job like this I'd rather not risk getting thrown onto America's Most Wanted."

"Well, everyone I know has been to Latveria recently, so that's probably off the table," Deadpool muses. "I mean, unless we wanna show up and harass Doom or something. How about South America? Belize? Nicaragua? We could overthrow a country! That could be fun. I haven't sponsored an insurrection in /forever/. Ooh! I'll flip a coin with you on who gets to be dictator for life!"

"Not been out in a long while. I'm overdue." Taskmaster admits as Domino accepts the flask of Jack Daniels, he's traditional like that. "Latveria is a touchy one. Not a fan of kicking up the dirt there on account of their uhm resident tyrant." A click of his tongue against the back of his teeth could be heard under the mask. "Madripoor is always fun and under the radar." The pistol in his hand waving in a small circle in the air where Deadpool's center mass would be. Not firing of course even though his curiosity is killing him or could, literally.

Domino gently clears her throat and avoids eye contact for a few seconds. Yeah..she was part of the Latveria thing. It failed, hard. She can't set foot into that country again. She miiight have also been part of overthrowing another country not too long ago. Mister Daniels, do your thing. "Haven't hit up South America in quite a while. Less concerned about location as I am about the op. Sure we could run out to some exotic location, but if it comes down to another drug cartel or oil baron? Not worth the in-flight movie. Unless you're looking for a scorched Earth run, that's a whole different game." She gives it some thought before thinking out loud "We could always hunt down a stolen nuke. Only people that'd give a damn about us killing everyone in sight is the group trying to steal the thing."

"Oooh. Chechnya? Kurdistan?" Deadpool scratches his temple with the barrel of his SMG. "That could be interesting. And classic hero stuff! Save a lost nuke, kill the bad guys, break the kneecaps of the stupid fat French guy who's totally good looking and evil and be all 'Vodka martini, shaken, not stirred. Bond, James Bond. Why, Miss Moneypenny, you look lovely today. I thought Christmas came only once a year! The world is not enough. Family motto! And then? I think I got the... thrust of it."

Deadpool pulls out a little notepad. "I think that's most of my good Bond references. Yeah, I'm down for recovering some WMDs. I bet we could some money for it, too! Like sell it to the UN or the US or the Russians!"

"Risky but if we can find some good buyers it'll be worth it." Taskmaster decides its that time and stands. His pistol re-holstered in the process. "I'll contact my people, you contact some of yours. See what we can come up with and then it's game time." That will be the real meeting. This here, whatever this was, is just a taste. But at least he has a general idea of what he is working with or against now. "Domino, a pleasure I look forward to our next encounter. Deadpool... er, uh, yeah, we'll uh, hang sometime." Extending his hand out for the flask a business card sits between two fingers Task Fullfilment T.Master 1-888-GET-TASK.

On the upside, Dom may have just cured Deadpool's boredom, for a time. On the downside, did she -really- just suggest a job that doesn't pay..? No..no, not yet. All is not lost. Nukes are big ticket items, even if the warhead would get destroyed there's going to be at -least- three other groups willing to pay simply to have it removed from the hands of their opposition. It just requires doing some shopping around before committing to the effort. Big job, big effort, big reward. Sucker bet. Even the 'Newbie' seems to have that figured out pretty well, point to him.

Now, the real question here has yet to be answered. "Brosnan? Better than Moore, anyway."

The flask is handed back in exchange for the card, glanced over then flicked away to a coat pocket. Hers is a lot more simplistic. The card is designed to look like a domino piece, 1x1, complete with a phone number and nothing more. "Be in touch. Happy hunting, kiddo."

Deadpool takes the card from Task and hands him one of his own. It is a business card from Chang's Chinese Deli on 46th, and Deadpool's scratched out the number and written 'Deadpool's Delivery Service', at 1-800-DEADPOOL. He offers the card to Taskmaster. "I'm all about getting paid, and I think it'd be fun! I haven't stolen anything nuclear since last month when I broke onto that Air Force base and rode a B2! Man, they frown on that."

"Kiddo?" Taskmaster's lips quirk downward under his mask at Domino's hazing. "Very stylish." Is his commentary while taking Deadpool's card. If anything the man is a character that couldn't be forgotten. With a turn and a wave over his shoulder he makes a quick enough exit from the DeadQuarters.