Gods and Monsters: Briefing

October 26th, 2014: The Wall, Deadshot, and Midnighter walk into a park… stop us if you've heard this one…

Flushing Meadows Park

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Mood Music:

Flushing Meadows, beautiful at this time of night. It seems like most meetings had between Waller and her constituents happened at night, where the shade of moonlight and the blanket of starlight were the only comfort for prying eyes. Even though it was official business, she enjoyed the chill that the night had brought; absent of the suns harsh rays. Good black don't crack, but she was not about to tempt fate.

For once, she did not have Floyd at her side, and if he managed to follow her.. well. Even better. But the die was cast for the three to meet, somewhere public, somewhere that was easy on her eyes and somewhere she could get the two of her latest acquisitions.. not under a roof.

Cigarette was soon lit and dragged upon, eyes flitting up to stare into the surface of the moon as she leans against the tree, one foot crossed over the other. She wore a simple tank-top, bulked due to bullet proof vest, leather jacket, jeans and heeled boots made simply for comfort and not fashion. Hair tied back into a bun and out of charcoal lined yes, lips glossed an —-… wait, no one gives a fuck about what she looks like.

Let's carry on, shall we?

Floyd Lawton followed along, of course. He hadn't been formally dismissed, he wanted to meet some of the other operatives of this particularly scroungy operation, and she still owed him buffalo wings. With bleu cheese and big breasted waitresses. He finds her at the tree, lighting his own cigarette as a lock of his dark hair falls across his sunglasses. Yes, he's wearing sunglasses at night.

"Just here to make sure ya don't get mugged or nothin'. Park at night, pretty lady, easy victim…some poor schmuck might mistake ya in the bad light and wind up getting his poor ass killed just lookin' for twenty bucks for a bit of rock. Poor, stupid junkies. Mission of mercy, having me here."

He blows his smoke in a long plume towards the sky, "So, who we waitin' for? Secret Agent X? James Bond? The Batman?" he says, making woo fingers at the last.

Unsurprisingly, Midnighter likes the night. It makes it so easier to move unseen, not that he usually has much problem with that even at high noon. And it's quieter. Sound travels well at night. Muffled voices become more clear, heartbeats become audible further away. So he's fairly certain it's just the three of them nearby. "Me." he says, walking around the tree. You can't ask for a better line to walk in on.

Alright, Floyd was starting to get a wee bit annoying, a minor thing to deal with other than Cadmus rejects and a whole helicopter crew hanging over a persons head while they're trying to barbecue for the family in the backyard. There was a little smirk that played upon her lips as she drew out a plume of smoke, keeping silent until…


Boosting herself from the tree and moving out into the open, she turns swiftly upon the heels of her boots, cig tucked into her mouth and left there as she settles gaze upon the two. "Midnighter. Meet Deadshot." She doesn't give full names, simply because. There were many names for Midnighter and only one for Floyd, she had to at least keep it professional since it was a meeting on the books.

"Very soon, in a weeks time, you two will be working together." No punches, no handshakes.

Floyd Lawton doesn't flinch at Midnighter, even if he is startled, because he's not supposed to flinch. Part of the bad-ass image, don't ya know. Has he spent some time learning that particular skill, staring into the mirror in his prison cell and getting his cellmate to jump out and surprise him? Yes. Embarrassing at the time, but it pays off now in the cool response of the trained killer.

"Midnighter, huh? Ya got a partner named Nooner?" he asks, before turning back to Waller, "Killing who?"

"Why?" is Midnighter's first question. Not a question about what the assignment is but rather why does he need to work with anyone. He already evaluated Deadshot before speaking up so just gives the man a look at the failed attempt at humor.

The cig was immediately pulled from her mouth mid-inhale, attempting to stop the chuckle that escapes either way that soon devolves into mild coughing. The stog was soon tossed away and into the grass, a wry smile drawing upon her lips as she answers Midnighter immediately. "Because I said so."

Hands were soon placed behind her back as she begins to stalk back and forth. She's planned this mission for a while now, so it was obviously important. To her at least. "Aleksander Luis Barbosa." The name was given with a bit of a pause in her step, and then continues on. "Up and coming 'philanthropist' of the arts and antiques. That's his cover. Beneath that slime? Rapist. Mass murderer, slaver of women and children and last but not least, thief and a freak."

Floyd Lawton doesn't consider the humor a failure, because he only cares about amusing himself. And he was definitely amused. As for Barbosa, he makes no judgment. Dude could be a friggin' saint for all Floyd cares. Waller says he gets a bullet, he gets a bullet. Simple as that.

"Maybe someone needs to be the night or know what lurks in the hearts of men while I'm plugging the sucker, dude. Don't worry about it, I ain't gonna step on your delicate toes. When and where, boss lady?"

Ah yes. The joy of working for someone else. And the reason he quit once before. Midnighter listens to the laundry list of why this man needs to die and can't argue with any of the reasons given. "And what's the mission?" Assassins are a dime a dozen. He's not one of them.

Waller winces quickly towards Floyd. "He's the last. You first have to get through two of them. One is aptly named Veruca. She's been on Team 7's list before, and she's a right nasty bitch. She can multiply, long as there are mirrors present. She gets out, you're done for. Lost many a man to that bitch and revenge is just an icing on the cake. The other is an unknown man. We don't know who he is, or what he does, we just know that where ever Aleksander moves, they both move."

Still keeping up her pace and cadence with her words, she answers Midnighter's question next.

"In Thebes, an Archaeological dig provided Barbosa with an item rumored to be created by the gods themselves. The Arm of Ptah. Surely, I don't need to go into specifics of who Ptah was to the people of Egypt, so I'll spare you that long lesson. Either way, the Arm of Ptah is rumored to have reality warping abilities and can also grant the wearer the gift of foresight no matter which reality they happen to cross into."

Or so she was told.

Floyd Lawton isn't exactly thrilled to have a partner either, but part of signing up for the job was doing things he might find occasionally unpleasant. He shrugs as Midnighter gives him the stoic hardass routine. People always gotta be so fucking unpleasant in this business. And people wondered why Floyd preferred shooting people to making friends.

"So, lemme guess, I punch tickets for El Guapo, Mirror Bitch an' Mystery Boy while the sour persimmon here runs around and grabs this spit arm thing?"

And now we get into why Midnighter is needed. "Foresight. That could prove to be interesting." He considers what he's been told before saying "Tell me about Veruca. You imply she's within the mirrors and can send out as many copies as she wants? Do they have to be whole? Big enough for a person to fit through? Does she need to see?" Now he does comment to Floyd. "It's not going to be that simple."

There were times when Floyd was funny, and times where he was not. Amanda had to pace herself around him at times, fighting the urge to break out into fits of laughter or.. breaking out into fits of fury by way of punching his ticket by the remote in her pocket. He was useful, just like the rest of the minions, that was until they ran or found a better purpose than what she could offer.

Even if Midnighter laid it out clear to Floyd, she adds another throw into the mix. "It never is that simple. Because you two will have to shadow Garfield and Keith first. They're mission will be separate, but it'll prove to be a proper decoy to get the four into place."

She crouches down now, working out the kinks within her knees, remaining in that crouch as she looks up towards the boys.

"My sources tell me that she can use mirrors to travel from place to place. She can exit through them, and.. as many mirrors present, multiply through them. I'm unsure if she needs to see or not, but.. hey. You can try."

She then looks up towards Floyd. "There's a chance you may have to get to Barbosa up close. If he's wearing the Arm, I don't want it damaged."

Floyd Lawton just shrugs in response to the criticism. To him, people always made things more complicated than they were. Planning shit like this rarely worked, because you were dealing with superpowered suckers and they were always doing unexpected superpowered shit. Information was good, of course, but she could've printed that out in a fucking memo if she just wanted to give them intelligence reports.

Oh, maybe Midnighter can't read. Touchy.

"Don't damage the magic mummy arm. Got it."

"So breaking the mirrors could either bad a very good idea or a very bad idea." Midnighter muses. He can't actually tell until he sees her. And by then it could be too late. "And they might all know we're coming because of the artifact even with the other providing a distraction." Pause. "You do know Vorpal doesn't have his powers at the moment?" He considers Floyd a moment then tells Waller "For this, we should have grenades. Smoke as well."

"You got it."

Floyd was all straightened out, it seems, but the rest of it lies with Midnighter. "Could be. Either or, you have to do something or catch her off guard so that Deadshot could take.. the shot.." God, that sounded redundant. "And yes. They know that we're coming. They know who we are. They know who Garfield and Keith are. Chances are, they're sending someone to this very spot right now and we wouldn't be any wiser."

A little grin is given as hands slip into her pocket. "And I don't care of Vorpal doesn't have his powers. He elected himself to go. Powers or no, a promise is a promise and may that be the last thing he does on his deathbed than so be it."

The mention of smoke and grenades causes her hands to rise. "As long as that smoke doesn't form into a real live person then you can have what you need. Submit your lists to me by the morrow and I'll take care of the rest. We're going to Alexandria. Weeks time."

Floyd Lawton keeps plenty of weapons of his own, never relies on requisitioning shit. He wouldn't use a weapon he hadn't vetted and maintained personally, plus his shit is untraceable and black market. For all he knows, the Stormwatch supply depot is just crap picked up from military surplus or the local Bill Goodman's Gun and Knife Show ("Call a buddy, bring a friend!").

"I'll bring plenty of party favors. Maybe you'll even get a pointy hat and a whistle," he says. "Look, I don't have to fuckin' babysit these goody goods, do I? I'll follow orders an' all, but you gotta have somebody better qualified than me to wipe superhero baby butt." he says. He doesn't understand Waller's interest in the Titans anyway, but, again, not his job.

"Egypt or Virginia?" Midnighter asks, needing to know which Alexandria it is. "Blueprints are a must. I'll know more after I look them over and whatever information you have on them. Also, whatever you can dig up on the arm even if it's just legend and rumor." While he doesn't normally need a lot of information, the enemy having foresight can be a problem to plan for. "You're coming?" She did say 'we'.

"You're not babysitting anyone but yourselves." Amanda snapped, but calms immediately after her little outburst.

"Egypt. I'll have my assistant cook up a nice little bedtime package for the twelve hour flight."

She fishes another cigarette from her pocket, but doesn't bother lighting it. It's placed behind her ear as hands join within her pocket, standing to her full height once more as she turns upon her heels, preparing to leave.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

As much fun as it would be, and the need to breathe air straight from the homeland, her superiors will have a fit if she were to go along.

Which probably meant a clear and solid yes.

Floyd Lawton lights a fresh smoke off of its predecessor, "Sounds like we got all our ducks in a row. Now we just gotta see who wins the big stuffed elephant when the shooting starts," he says. He wonders if he can still get a stage-side seat at the Watermelon Lounge. It was dollar draft night and he'd already hit the ATM. There were single moms and college girls who needed to pay their bills in singles this month and, by God, Floyd Lawton was going to do his part to help.

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