2013-02-28 1 Hour to Sunset

Jackie rests against the massive metal beam, his back pressed against the freezing cold metal, his eyes half lidded in exhaustion as he stares over at the bridge's entrance, such an inoccuous looking thing, so open, so ordinary. He reaches down to pull aside the edge of his coat to look at the bare chest beneath it. A roadmap of red angry vein like burns extends from a fist sized blister in the center of Jackie's chest, these reaching angry marks look like lightning bolts streching down across his right side and disappear into the darkness of the coat. He can feel them all the way down his right leg and he hisses in pain as the is laid back over the burns Electro's bolt left, his head falling back lightly against the support beam. Good thing his left foot wasn't down when he was struck, otherwise it would have passed through his heart. He slowly turns his head to eye Domino and Roy and states idly, "That was such a good shirt too." the shirt in question is currently laid on the ground, blood stained with a burnt hole in the front that renders it completely useless.
He turns once more to look at the walking section of the bridge and then turns to look back over the river towards Jersey, "Never wanted to get to Jersey so bad, frankly if I had any energy left it'd make me feel dirty." he mutters under his breath before staring at the entrance again. Two attempts to steal cars have lead to gun fights before the cars could be taken, and the only boats on the river aren't the sort that can just pull up on shore and pick up a passanger or two. So... it's walking. The rest, short as it has been, was much needed. Jackie's burns needed checking, as did the bandage on the hole in his shoulders, and Dom's side was bleeding again where her armor failed to stop a round from finding a home. "Ready?" Jackie asks with a wheeze of pain, "You guys get me home, steaks, beers, and ammo is on me." he pauses, "And you know, the money."
"It was real nice of you boys to regain consciousness," Domino deadpans with one hand keeping pressure on her wound and the other keeping the monstrous FAL tucked close at her side. "Can't tell you what a joy it is to drag two armed, bloodied bodies through the middle of Central Park in broad daylight."
She's in better shape than the other two, though only barely. Between luck and skill she's on her feet, though she's also running low on ammo and has run completely out of patience several miles ago. "I feel dirty enough for the three of us," she says with contempt, staring across the bridge to the less than pristine Jersey skyline.
'And the money.' "You'd best not forget about that part," she warns while hefting the assault rifle tighter up beneath her shoulder. No time like the present... "Let's get this dance over with before they call for an encore."
Trucker cap firmly sealed down on his head to hide the frizzled crispy-fried hair post-Electro. Bandaged again, and with empty quiver, unloaded crossbows, and a loaded pistol all tucked away on him, plus what remained in his pockets (a penny, pocket lint, an autographed picture of Dazzler... okay, strike that last one...) Yeah, Roy Harper was kinda ready, even with electric burns and the occasional spasm.
"I don't even get -paid- for this," the SHIELD agent grunts. "The least -she- can do with -her- money is to buy me dinner."
Taking a deep breath, only to wheeze a bit and gag at the taste of iron in his mouth, Roy holds his hands up. "So, from here on, it should be smooth sailing, right?"
Jackie snorts, "We're going to Jersey." he counters, his dark rimmed hollow eyes seeming more death like then they ought to. Perhaps he's got injuries less visible too, it's impossible to tell at this point, "Ever been? Even with the hot tubs to soak the pretty pale one it's not exactly a place made of happy." he pushes off of the beam, "Come on, we make it across the bridge, we're golden." he says moving towards the open sidewalk like walk way that runs parralell to the roadways, but seperate by a fence. It's going to be a long hike, but just on the other side is saftey. Any walkers headed that way eye the trio, stop, and find somewhere else on the New York side of the bridge they needed to be, changing direction instantly. They're jaded, but that much blood, bullets, and body armor isn't condusive to continued health.
Dom smirks slightly at Jackie's remark. "I don't know, it's starting to sound better from where I'm standing." Money, drinks, and a hot tub full of bliss. Sure, sign her up for two. "Watch our backs, Arsenal. Anything so much as a car missing its front headlight comes down this road, I want to know about it. Jackie, stay put between us. I know you'd rather be in the lead but I'd rather not risk losing out on most of my pay."
Let the others flee. Flee, all of you, bwahaha! ..Exhaustion and loss of blood miiight be making her thought process a touch loopy.
"Eh, Jersey. I've been in worse places. Bogatago, Bialya, Qurac..." Shrugging, Roy keeps Jackie in between Domino, keeping a glance out from behind, pistol at the ready. Of course, given the location, and the way the bridge was set up, he was pretty sure that if they were going to do anything, they'd do it by road. But what were the odds, eh?
"By the way, Dom, some of -that- pay is going for a round of vodka, is it? Or do I still owe you?" Roy quips, if only to get a rise out of her and get her attention back on... well, NOT intimating the other bystanders.
It is indeed a long hike, and the bridge has that ever so slight elevation issue where in it raises towards the middle, making the walk an up hill one that's just unpleasant. As they near the halfway point Jackie stops, "Dammit." he says, reaching back to scratch his neck, "I'm getting th-" yeah. He should have known it wouldn't be this easy, in fact, he was just flat out expecting that to be the case. A hundred feet or so behind them, out of no where there's the sudden squealing screech of massive tires as a semi jack knifes across the bridge, covering the majority of the lanes and sending other cars slamming into it and each other in a raucous sound of metal on metal, a symphony of grinding crunching noises. Cars on the bridge start to hit their brakes, fish tailing slightly as a semi going in the opposite direction also jack knifes across the lanes, running into on coming traffic and piling up more vehicles around it, building an instant impromptu barricade. Just as the sound dies away and Jackie is looking back and forth to what lays ahead and what lays behind, he sighs, "Fuck." People, not stupid enough to stick around, flee the wrecks hurridly, confused expressions on their faces as they do so. Moments later WHUUMPSH! twin fireballs arc into the sky as the two barricades made of twisted car metal go up creating walls of flame and boxing Jackie and company in. "So... who wants to bet that that's just a really ominous coincidence?" Jackie says dryly.
The fence that 'proetects' pedestrians on the walk way buckled like tissue paper when it was hit, and the impacts from both sides ripped down a section nearly fifty feet long, leaving access to the bridge itself wide open, which might be a good thing since they'll need the cover. From the smoke and fire a tall well built form appears, a shadow with hard unnatural lines and a cobra like head, smoke curling up and around him, flame licking over his boots as he walks out towards the middle of the road. His face is hooded, the reason for the odd shadowy shape, and his body is armored in blacks and blues with white accents here and there. There are large pistols strapped to his thighs, and ammo pouches sprout from nearly every viable location of the armor, and the hilt of what looks like a sword extends high over one shoulder. The face beneath the hood is masked behind a death's head construct, a skull made of steel, and from it a slightly electronically altered voice issues clearly across the bridge, "Okay, which of you is my paycheck? I need to cash him in before the bank closes and I have a date at seven so, if we could hurry this along..."
"Yeah, vodka, sure," she mutters in a purely distracted tone. "Whatever."
Domino stops when Jackie makes the call, turning around--just in time to see that semi go careening across every available lane on the bridge. "No need to call that one, Arsenal," she sighs. The collisions and explosions send shockwaves rippling through the steel and concrete beneath their feet, but the bridge holds. Lucky them. Boxed in, by flaming wreckage. Real lucky. People really do crazy shit for half a million dollars. "To hell with bets, who feels like taking a swim?"
Company. -Again.- "Jesus, you're attracting every armed psychopath with a metalshop in this city, Jack!" She's all set to point at Roy when the question is raised, yet something makes her stop. Not before aiming her 7.62 NATO chambered FAL toward their newest bit of opposition, of course. "Newbie, is that you? Finally got tired of Deadpool and decided to hang out with us cool kids, huh?"
That's right, folks! Domino and Taskmaster already know each other. Isn't this just a big fucking pickle.
Yeah, somehow Roy -had- a sinking feeling when that question was asked, because he would have bet his bottom dollar that -he- was going to get pointed at. He's all set to point back -at- Domino, when her acknowledgment of the opponent made Roy sigh, looking back at Jackie. "Well, pal, if things go pearshaped from here, I hope you know how to swim."
Taking a deep breath, Roy whistles to Domino. "Hey, Dommie, don't suppose this is one of those team-ups things where the mercs fight, then team-up? Because I -so- want to skip straight ahead to the team-up..."
"Newbie huh? Again if it wasn't /cute/ the first time around it just has to be the second." Taskmaster responds with that electronic inflected voice. A 45. slinging out in to his right hand, "Nothing personal, Spot. Business and all." Well, maybe a little personal for the 'kiddo' and 'newbie' remarks.
"I suppose we should get this shin-dig started." A quick size up of Roy, Jackie and Domino before he takes casual aim at Jackie and squeezes the trigger in quick, very accurate three round burst. Testing the waters and all. Time for the fun to begin.
Jackie is already moving. Sure, all the freaky people with all the costumes can chit chat all they want, he's getting his ass behind some fucking cover. "Capes." he mutters under his breath as he dives for an SUV with a startled and very confused looking man inside wearing a suit. Just as he manages to get behind the back end of the Jeep, there's a splash of crimson and he curses eloquently and with gusto. "YOU SHOT ME IN THE ASS YOU FUCKTARD!" Jackie informs everyone in a two mile radius. "Who shoots a guy in the ass!?!" Shot in the shoulder, beaten up, blown up, zapped by an over grown lightning bolt, and now shot in the ass. "Motherfucker." he hisses, reaching back to feel the long grazing line along his hip and one cheek. He'd usually role over, press himself against the Jeep but... he just got shot in the part of himself he'd sit on to do it. It's not a square shot, he's a good deal faster then he ought to be for just being a mook, but still... it's a burrowing line across his 'hip' and it hurts. A lot.
Jackie pulls his last remaining gun and checks. Three bullets. "Perfect." he says, looking under the Jeep to try to spot the ass shooting skull faced freak show's boots.
"I'm game if he is," Domino sides back to Roy. Unfortunately, Taskmaster doesn't seem to have such an inkling. The point is made crystal clear with three pulls of the trigger.
Crap, here we go. Acting faster than she can think about the situation Dom sweeps the battle rifle around and dumps a quick burst of automatic fire into the air while diving for cover, aiming to either swat some of those slower pistol rounds out of the air or pelt Taskmaster's position with the fast, heavy slugs. Or both! She's not about to be picky.
A splotch of fresh blood sticks to the pavement as her previous injury makes contact with the road, rolling behind a Kia minivan then driving her shoulder low against the rear wheel. "Did you even bother to read the contract, Taskie?! He's worth -five times- as much alive, we could all split this and walk away!"
Oh, nuts to this. Dom reaches around for a grenade only to find that she's already used up her last one. "Natch," she grumbles, instead reaching for the MP7 (the one that ran out three blocks back, right?) then settles on one of her 10mm sidearms. Those still have some gun food in the mags. They're also much easier to handle around cover, her arm hooking back and around the rear bumper to crank out several loud, powerful shots without even looking. Because it's what she does.
"Dammit!" With limited ammunition available to him, Roy had to think of conserving his bullets. No love for John Woo this time, sadly. And where Domino's thought was to hit, and hit back, Roy's thought was for the target, immediately leaping onto the fender of the Jeep, then the hood, then the roof... making himself a big fat target for a brief time hopefully to keep fire off Jackie, before leaping down next to Jackie.
"You're worth -five- times as much alive?" he asides to Jackie. "Damn woman had to remind him of -that-?" There's a quick assessment of his options, before Roy tilts his head at Jackie. "You know, I have an idea..."
"Pardon my confusin' I mistook it for your face." Taskmaster shouts back at Jackie as Domino's rain of fire pelts the space he was just occupying. Executing a quick leap and roll out of the way to come up and fire at Arsenal in another of those tightly packed bursts. Tucking in against the rear of a Durango and out of immediate line of sight he yells once more, "How about we do this more civil-like 'n' all of us bust out our dancin' shoes? Anyone up for a game of old school fisticuffs. My daily beat the snot out of a ginger quota ain't filled yet."
Jackie eyes Roy, "If your idea is swimming, we'll splat when we hit the water, and if it involves sitting down you can go fuck yourself." Jackie says, then Taskmaster quips and Jackie growls, "Oooo. I'm rip his balls out through his nose." Jackie says with narrowed eyes. He glances at Roy and then tilts his head, "No... I see where you're going with this." his eyes track west and he pauses, "You think we can keep this going for ten minutes?" he waves the question away, "Fuck that. Keep me alive for ten minutes. After that, we'll be fine." He then reaches around the corner of the SUV and tosses the 9 out onto the street where it skitters and slides. "Alright Princess, you wanna dance? I got your Prince Charming right here!" he peeks his head out to glance towards where Taskmaster's voice came from, "Gotta tell ya though, not sure I trust a guy in a mask who carries a sword on his back in classic over compensation style. Seems somehow sketchy." He moves from the SUV to cover that's closer to an open bit of asphault where an actual fist fight would be more likely to take place. "You coming baldy?"
Did Taskmaster seriously just offer to switch this up to a melee fight..? As Domino pulls back a smoking pistol with the slide locked open on an empty chamber she's starting to give the offer some serious thought. Three on one? She's pretty badly injured, but she's had worse scrapes. Could she handle duking it out?
Yes. Yes, she could.
"Maybe if you'd -Stop Shooting At Us- your offer might carry a bit more weight!" she yells back, fishing around for a spare magazine and coming up empty-handed. Her other sidearm still has a few in it. She's still got a 9mm somewhere around here that's probably got seven or eight left to go. The FAL's starting to feel dangerously light...
Dom sighs and drops her empty sidearm onto her stomach, looking like she'd really love nothing more than to hit something, after all. "I'm almost completely out of bullets. This has never happened before."
Jackie's already disarming and--god-damnit,- did he seriously just expose himself like that?! How he managed to stay alive for this long is a total flippin' mystery to her! Pushing the air out of her lungs in a quick sigh she holsters the empty handgun and sets the FAL aside, shrugging out of her heavy trench. "Yeah, because none of us look sketchy at all. Look, Taskie. You seem decent enough, we don't need to kill each other over this mess. You want to throw down for a while, I'm good with that."
That said, she, too, starts to inch out into the open with empty palms.
It was crazy, yes, but this was the thing... this -dude- would have to concentrate on eliminating the other two before he could take out Jackie safely. And Roy was counting on Domino and himself stopping him before that happened. Failure wasn't an option.
Keeping tab of where Jackie's discarded gun was, Roy glances about, notes where Taskmaster is, and sighs. Ten minutes? Taking a deep breath, Roy ducks below the Jeep, crawling underneath so that he can have -some- protection as he scoots himself in position to try and snipe-fire his pistol while Domino is keeping him occupied. He can't -keep- an eye on them all, could he?
Honorable mood or no? Not really ever honorable. It's pretty laughable a thing to even consider - most days. But a throwdown of this style? That is Taskmaster's forte, he /loves/ this stuff and shoot-outs are so overdone anymore.
Leaping upwards instead of out from around the Durango, Taskmaster stands up on it where he can look down at the trio before re-holstering the 45. in his webgear, opposite it's twin. Displaying empty gloved palms his perpetually grinning mask tips down at Domino and Jackie, "Killing isn't off the table and unfortunately you guys ain't playing fair. No matter... I suppose that just keeps things interesting." With a flourishing forward leap the skull-faced-mercenary is descending quickly from the top of the vehicle with one leg extended in a dropping heel kick at the female bodygaurd once again initiating aggressively.
Jackie is not a martial artist, never has been, never will be. But he's a brawler of the highest calibre, his fighting style is dirty, untrained, ugly, but lethal and effective. The instant Taskmaster puts himself in the air, Jackie's on the move. He takes a page out of a Giant's playbook and attempts a linebacker tackle against Taskmaster, trying to just catch him mid air and drive him into the asphualt with pure brute ferocity. Sure he's no merc, and he's no soldier, but violence is his living and he's really very good at it... now, if only someone told him that he's out of his depth...
"I'm only referring to us on the no killing thing," Domino counters. "Believe me, I've wanted to put one through his brainpan for the last seven hours." And, let's face it here. If she doesn't win the fight she's not about to cash in on Jackie's reward. That shouldn't mean that -she- has to die over it.
And Roy's cheating. Point to him, but if you're going to cheat, do everyone a favor? Make sure that the other guy doesn't see it coming. Nice try.
Then Taskie's coming for her with a kick, and Jackie's already playing interference. Dom doesn't bother with anything fancy, she dives and rolls to get right beneath Task mid-jump so that she can get a good shot in from behind while he's busy tackling with his mark. She's a hair faster than Taskmaster, when she's not been shot, blown up, and in countless car wrecks. She's also about to discover that she's not as good at martial arts as Taskie is.
What she does have is that one utterly random Luck wildcard. Ol' Skullface better be careful with his footing, his odds of tripping or injuring himself have just significantly increased. ..Or a bird flying into the side of his head, or something. It's impossible to bank on any single scenario, but around her? Things Just Happen.
It didn't -matter-. Because even like this, that the other guy -wasn't- cheating just didn't sit right with Roy. Which is why Roy's shooting is far more trickier, waiting for the timing in between the grappling, and tackling...
BLAM. One of Taskmaster's guns is shot out of the holster, sent spinning.
And then, just to make the other point clear, the twin gun is sent flying, before Roy steps out. And just to make a point...
BLAM.
Jackie's gun is sent spinning off, into the wreckage, before Roy tosses his own pistols into the burning wreckage. "I'm not sure how -fair- you want to be when there's three of us and one of you, but... fine..." And then Roy closes in, looking for an opening...
"Dive in without regard for what happens to you? Commendable but sloppy. Not anything I'll keep." Taskmaster taunts Jackie as the man replaces the surprisingly speedy Domino in the imminent collision category. A twist of his hips and that heel kick is moving to catch Jackie in the jaw or general face area just before he and Task end up in a sprawl upon the ground. Adrenaline does great things for people but so does exhaustion and blood loss. Taskmaster is banking on it. What he wasn't anticipating is for each of his pistols to go slinging off like clothes snapped off the line in each direction. Very nice. Definitely keeping.
Taskmaster's kick correction and overly-aggressive straight forward attack not allowing him to do much else beyond keep his footing and re-adjust; plus that whole shock of... where did my toys go?
Jackie's head snaps to the side as the heel of Taskmaster's boot slides along his jaw. The headlong rush's forward momentum is the only thing that keeps Jackie from spinning away to the side, and instead he sprawls along the pavement, rolling a bit and ending up on his hands and knees, blood dripping from the new cut along his quickly swelling jaw. His eyes come up and narrow. Okay... so that's against all the laws of physics and nature. But who's Jackie kidding, it's not like /he's/ not capable of Shit That Shouldn't Be. He reaches up to touch his face and winces, "The face?" he says stiffly. "Really?" first shot in the ass now kicked in the face. He moves to his feet, and more stupid then skilled, he wades in before Dom or Roy can get their own plans together, his fists and knees flying. As before, he's all street fight, but he's quick, tough, in good shape, and determined. Really really determined. He aims his shots at Taskmaster's knees, throat, eyes, anything a thug would know was a weak spot, and he pours it on like a hose, putting very little effort into defense and everything he's got into a rain of blows.
Dom's down, she's under, she's up, she's out of the way, she's--completely missing Taskmaster on count of him landing in a pile with Jackie. "Huh. I guess that works."
Of course, -somebody- is still -shooting- while they're trying to get their kung-fu on... "Damnit, Harper! That was ..really good shooting, actually."
Head in the game, Domino! Big and Ugly trying to murder Annoying and Egotistical! She's not against kicking a man when he's down, either. While he's still focused on Jackie she hauls herself together (thank you, unrelenting willpower,) and snaps around with a vicious kick aimed for the Skull-faced one. She's tired, and it shows. There's a sluggish weight to her motions. But she's still damned fast!
That, and it was Taskmaster himself that called for this fight. Jackie can try to defend his own honor all he likes, that just means they get to double-team this guy. He's totally got it coming.
And the problem with two vs one as that if a third person was going to get in the action, they'd just end up accidentally hitting each other, and that would actually be to Taskmaster's advantage.
So rather than get into the straight-up brawl immediately, Roy actually -bides- his time, before diving ... straight into one of Taskmaster's punches. Damn, it was going to hurt, but that would be -one- less arm... if he can actually manage to grab ahold of it and wrap it up and leave him having to fight the other two off with one arm.
"Oh? I thought that was your ass that time. My bad." Jackie is met with a fluid side-step, forearm block, wrist-lock curl *snap* and twist to a circular parry that becomes a very rough momentum using head first throw at Domino who with her very nice A+ graded kick. A kick that now catches Jackie in the ribcage; you would think the throw would carry and release Jack-O but it doesn't - Taskmaster has a very nice grip on the back of Jackie's neck with an arm still locked up and neatly snapped at the wrist (whilst held by two fingers). The scent of a Chicken Basquaise is filling Taskmasters memories and the Blue Danube Waltz by Johann Strauss Jr are flooding his mind of this linking back to Choy Lit Kung and what is apparently and literally a dance while using the mobster as a shield and weapon against his companions.
Roy's lunge would originally have met Jackie's own limb as Task was using him like a human-shield-dance-partner-puppet-weapon but for some reason the unspeakable happens; something that never happens... since you know Taskmaster is an amazing dancer! One foot skips against another and he staggers losing his grip on Jackie. Granting an opening.
Jackie's momentum carries him past Roy, twirrling all the while, until he lands against the hood of a Civic who's occupant is holding up an IPhone filming the fight. Jackie coughs, and a rictus pained expression twists his features. He pushes off of the hood a bit and stares into the window, the camera, "Take a moment. Think about what you're doing. Now think about how safe you'll be if that video gets out." he slurs through pink teeth. The phone slowly lowers... then is tossed out the window, both the hands of the girl inside the car going up like Jackie had lowered a gun at her, "Good girl." he manages before cradling his wrist to his side and turning to watch the continuing fight and trying to find a way to get back in, like Roy, biding his time. What? Like a cracked rib, two bullet wounds, half his body covered in electrical burns, a gashed jaw, and a broken wrist were going to stop him? "I just danced with a dude. Uncool."
Good news, Dom's kick makes contact. Bad news, Taskmaster saw it coming. Good news, Dom finally gets a chance to smack Jackie around, -and- she can't be blamed for it! How's that for crazy odds?
Bad news, Taskie's not really giving Dom or Roy a chance to participate in this fight. "Gee, maybe we should be fighting each other so we don't feel left out, Arsenal."
Then--wait for it--! Taskie stumbles! Like a wildcat leaping for a rabbit Dom jumps after Taskmaster, not aiming for a punch or a kick so much as looking to lock her arms around his neck from behind, her attempt to end this fight early by strangling him into unconsciousness. She's still got half a million riding on Jackie's survival and no desire to try and kill Taskie. Why not just put him under, collect her gear, then finish walking to Jersey?
"You two made a lovely couple," Dom cuts in through a clenched jaw. Things are never too awful for a spot of sarcasm!
"Dammit!" Roy grunts as he misses his target -and- still gets smacked for his trouble as Jackie goes by. Shaking his head, to get that smack out of his way, Roy cracks a grin at Domino. "Only if you'll go with me on a date afterwards," the ginger jack-of-all-weapons retorts. And even as Domino tries for the headlock, Roy goes for the legs, trying to pull him upwards and horizontal so that he has no purchase to break out of that headlock. "Take in a hockey game, watch fights break out... and we won't even be -responsible- for those!"
"Sadly it's a romance with an expiration date." Taskmaster grunts as Domino hits gold and ends up on his shoulders with her arms in place like she intended. That opening exploited. A low raspy seranade begins from the man, "Yes, I'm standing here telling you, baby, this is the end of the line...,"A *gurk* sound comes from the man as she latches firmly in place. "Yes I'm tired of you riding me, I declare I ain't lying...." As Roy sweeps in Task knows what comes next as legs violently sweep out from under him and he goes crashing towards the ground; bringing Domino with. One of Taskmasters hands sliding a very sharp blade free to manuever upwards and behind him = using to place between himself, Domino and the ground. Her own weight will bring her down ontop of it through the padded armor she is wearing right around stomach to rib area. Sneaky move mixed with some sleight of hand and that whole obscured between the grapple of bodies bit. With the adrenaline she may not even realize it's there at first.
"Well, you get off, get off, get off baby... 'cause you're a heavy load." The singing ceases as he throws a booted kick out at Roy's throat from where he's at, trying to distract so he can re-acquire his footing. "Take it no one here is a B.B. King fan... thats punishment worthy alone." Need to talk less it's starting to aid in winding himself.
Jackie shoves off of the Civic as he watches Taskmaster go down, and he starts to circle, looking for that opening, "This is New York Princess, we're a Sinatra town." he continues to cradle his injured wrist against his side, ignoring the swelling on the side of his face that's starting to force his eye closed on that side. "Blues is for people with something to complain about, we got shit to do."
Domino latches on like her life depends upon it, there's a chance that it does. It's a good hold. Textbook-perfect. Marred with one unforseen consequence.
Roy Harper.
"No, Roy, nonono..!"
Adrenaline is running high, sure. It's still not enough for her to ignore the feeling of honed steel getting slammed into her torso, the angle perfect and the momentum and added weight piercing the advanced ballistic weave like it's nothing more troublesome than pressed cardboard.
"HNGH!"
Okay, so maybe Taskmaster's still on par with the idea of killing her over this. As he gets back to his feet Dom catches the handle that's jutting out of her, muscles tensing beneath that sleek black skin before she wrenches it out of her ribs with a thin trace of blood slinging off of the steel and a pained grunt from the albino.
"Screw the classics," she growls while twisting that blade around in her palm, "I'm more of a metal girl."
It's then that she tries to slam Taskmaster's own weapon down into the top of his foot, wanting to staple him to the very bridge.
and this is -why- sometimes it's better to just go one on one.
Trying to twist his shoulder into the kick to protect against getting a crushed trachea, Roy instead loses his grip as he's sent flying backwards, going past Jackie, and landing on his rump.
His trucker's cap is sent flying, and into the burning wreckage. "Hey! I liked that hat!"
And then he glances back up. "I -liked- that lady too!" he growls, as he scrambles for his feet, hands scrambling for something... anything... that could be used as a weapon. Oh for... all he had was a penny. What was he supposed to do, chuck it into Taskmaster's mouth when he's yapping? Something, anything else...
If Domino thinks Taskmaster is holding still even for half a breath she is as crazy as she looks! Oh wait, that is a give in. But of course he is moving! Perpetually and constantly; it's rather frightening to behold really when he gets all hyper-caffienated like. Because really for him to slow down and slip up against these three highly trained sorts lcould change the outcome of the fight in less than a heartbeat, not something he'd get paid for. The weapon Domino just stabbed at him with misses his foot as he Bruce Lee like Jeet Kune Do hop-glides to the side. It doesn't entirely miss it's mark, however. Leather and composite plastic mesh severs through as she slices in to some skin and muscle. That puppy is sharp after all, it is one of his own.
"Ouch!" Taskmaster hisses. "OH LOOK! She brought a knife to our good ole' honorable street fight. Fairplay mode is off ladies and... red headed soul-less clown kids." Yes, Jackie falls in to the lady department. Taskmaster's sword unseathes.
Jackie grins a bit, "Compensating much?" he quips as he darts in, throwing a high heavy handed punch at Taskmaster's face while keeping his broken wrist in tight against his ribs. As soon as his body rotates and his coat is flaring mid punch however, the broken hand darts out in a short jab aimed at Taskmaster's ribs, Jackie counting on the heavy punch and the flaring coat to hide the motion from the merc. Clutched in his hand, broken wrist or not, is a punch dagger with a wide two inch long leaf shaped blade. He knows he's only got one hit in the broken hand, maybe, before it's completely useless, he tries to make it count. Sadly, this isn't an original move, it's the sort of thing brawlers with capes (aka Batman etc) do on a regular basis. Task's likely seen it before... and you know, Jackie's not what you'd call bringing his A Game here.
Oh sure, it's only a weapon-fight -after- Domino gets impaled. "Tell that to my gut! You started it, you cheap bastard!"
It's a far cry from a proper limb impalement, but cuts to the top of a foot do hurt! Maybe it'll slow his legwork somewhat, she doesn't know. All that crosses her mind (beside the fact that Taskmaster's a jerk) is that this is a great time to put some distance between herself and that sword coming into play. "That's how it's gonna be, huh," she mutters to herself, dropping the bloodied knife with a -clang!- as she unholsters one of her ten millimeters, thumbs back the hammer, rolls out her shoulders, then draws aim upon Taskmaster.
He's moving way too fast to get a clean shot. Him, and the other two.
"Oh to hell with it."
Not looking, not aiming, Dom darts her sights several degrees away from the three and squeezes the trigger.
BAM!-TING!-TWANGGG!-SPAK!-THUNK!
The single round comes in from a completely different trajectory, impacting with Taskmaster's sword with enough force to smack it out of his hand and send it end over end through the air.
Oh good. Fair play's out. Which means... dammit, why _did_ Roy had to do something so foolhardy as to shoot all the guns away...?
And then Domino takes her shots, and Arsenal immediately reacts, dashing towards Domino. Because she had what, one other gun left? Now if he could just get -past- the Taskmaster... which was no easy task, given that he'd be running into gunfire. Unless, of course... well, hey!
Course, getting that sword meant fighting Taskmaster for it -and- staying out of Domino's gunfire. Well he'd just have to hope -her- shooting was -that- good too... because here comes an Arsenal punch trying to clear room to nab that sword!
Jackie's approach is reckless, wild and on someone other than Taskmaster it would work out very nicely. Taskmaster's mastercraft katana flourishes forward deadly tip in and about to cut inwards and up; maybe even completely through Jackie his coat and his hidden blade plus attached limb.
Or at least... that was the plan... if the sword was still in his hand...and not now in Roy's.
Unexpected that there.
Taskmaster's empty hand rises up and he actually pauses to blink at it in examination. "Well, shit." He says before Jackie's weapon makes contact; slamming in to the mercenaries torso; punching through mesh and kevlar to actually embed itself. That bit of surprise from Domino's tricky shot coupled with Roy's snatch 'n' grab having granted that brief window of opportunity. Doubling forward Taskmaster lets out a small sound of mixed emotion. "You dun fucked up now." He can be heard whispering his body slumping forward over Jackie's arm.
The next move is sudden, abrupt and thunderous as the best Captain America shield punch pose in existance is exercised on Jackie's chin. A glowing shield like circle of energy has appeared on the Taskmaster's forearm, enveloping it and sheathing his hand in hard-light courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D. (also supposedly Mr. Stark). What follows is a brutal flurry of attacks that begin with a Li-Chia short hand kung fu palm strike to the sternum, a Kyokushinkai Karate reverse turning kick in to a backflip kick that only the likes of Spider-Man could upstage. All of these stolen moves a gift to Jackie.
Landing Taskmaster draws out an extending club squaring off against Roy, "I really hope you know how to use that."
Jackie hit! He totally hit! He grins, "What?" he says to Taskmaster as he twists the knife slightly, "No kisses?" he shouldn't have stopped to be coy. The sheild's edge smashes Jackie's teeth shut and he bites clean through one of his lips. The palm strike breaks the ribs that were only cracked a moment ago, and sends him on his heels. The kick shatters them and puts him air borne. Jackie blinks as something blooms inside him, pain, so much pain that he actually is surprised... then it fades. Shock. Well that's a bad sign. Jackie's body hits the bridge and he rolls a couple of times, something wet rattles in his chest as he sucks in a breath, and blood and spit dribble from his broken lip. Laying there, cheek agianst the concrete, Jackie finds himself mostly thinking about his car. He loved that Lambo.
Jenny.
I mean, it was such a pretty car, all gleaming and what not. So fast.
Jenny
He should get another one, right? Or maybe this time something heavier, like a Hummer or something. The name would lead to some awesome jokes.
Jenny.
Well one thing is certain, he's not getting a Ferrari. That's for tools and poseurs.
Jenny.
Jackie pushes his good hand against the ground and starts to drag himself up slowly, "What?" he says with a heavy slur, "That all you got?" he spits something red and thick and not good looking to the side, his head raises a bit, his one open eye staring at Taskmaster, "Pussy."
Jenny. So so sorry... I'll make it up to you...
There's the shot, the sword, and the catch. See, it's moments like this that remind Dom of why she keeps Harper around. It's a great distraction, too! She can almost hear Jackie's punch dagger landing into Taskmaster. She can also practically hear the strikes of retaliation as the opposing merc explodes in a flurry of motion, pounding the stuffing out of Jackie.
Y'know. That guy she's trying to keep alive.
Roy already cheated--okay, technically everyone here's cheated, but it's always a valid play in Dom's book. It's just still way too risky for her to take another shot, she's already broken one of Jackie's ribs with her foot. Just think about what the wrong kind of miss might do! Luck could always favor her in a completely different way and kill the guy she's trying to help, he is a mob hitman after all.
Despite the lightheadedness she's feeling from so much loss of blood over the evening, accelerated by another fresh puncture, she holds her ground from a distance and brings her pistol up in both hands. No--make that with one hand. She can do this... Turn the body ninety degrees, present a smaller target. Keep the sights steady.
She can -do- this.
Shoulders tense. Eyes narrow. Jaw sets. Wait for her shot. Fight unconsciousness and wait..for her shot.
BAM!
The slug rockets straight past all three of the dangerously close combatants, sails off into the distance, rebounds against that burning wreckage of a semi, and comes sailing straight on back--
--into the back of Roy's knee.
It doesn't pass through the skin, instead triggering an automatic muscle response that causes his leg to buckle, dropping him -just- so that his head strikes the pavement and knocks him unconscious.
Wince. "That cant be good."
What Dom doesn't realize is that she just saved Roy's life from the hands of Taskmaster.
Taskmaster's somehow entirely changed his approach and style from casual, aggressive and showy to straight up deadly and efficient. Something Roy Harper was about to learn as the man lunges in and swings the club in a neckbreaking arc that could very well cripple the man for life if not outright kill him.
WIFF. Air. He maybe clipped an ear but Taskmaster gets nothing in his swing as Arsenal's body crumples unexpectadly... how lucky for him? "What the shit, Spot!? Friendly fire fail." He snaps out loudly; turning to face Domino and Jackie again. His eye twitching at being called a 'pussy'. Running forward his foot skips out and aims at Mr. Estacado's head treating it like the coolest football ever and he is a punter for the 49'ers. The middle of that run also produced two bladed throwing discs that arc through the air at Domino, not lethal, those are mainly distractive but you know... they're sharp. Like most of his toys.
Jackie was just about to get up! Instead his head snaps to the side in a spray of blood and what may very well have been a tooth, his body rolling twice with the impact and once more coming to rest on the asphalt, his eye turns to the west he watches the flame colored sky... and smiles weakly.
Cripes, was he really going to--and did she really just--holy crap. Harper may not see it for what it is, but Domino sure knows the truth. Luck's a fickle, uncompromising, unforgiving thing, but it's still dropping the pieces into place for her. More or less.
When the throwing discs are cast into the air she smartly pulls the trigger once more, picking one of the objects neatly out of its trajectory with an instant flash of sparks. She's planning on doing the same thing to its buddy when she notices that there aren't any shots left for her to take.
Disc number two tags her right under the arm, catching a thinner patch in her armor that's designed for maximum mobility over some of the extra protection found on the outside.
"Auh!"
This isn't working. She can't well shoot at the guy. He'll see a knife or two flung in his direction before they can land. Rushing an opponent is always a stupid idea. It's careless. It's reckless. It's insane.
It's perfect.
She swaps out for a matte black knife in either hand and sprints right for Taskmaster. Odds of a slip, twisted ankle, distraction from Jackie, equipment hangup, misjudge of speed or distance, -anything at all damnit!- The higher the risks, the crazier the odds, the bigger the increase in danger, the better her power works.
"Why you smile'n you, mook? Creepy dumb bastard." Taskmaster chides Jackie before looking towards Domino running at him. "I gotta hand it to ya, Spot. You're a tenacious sort why not just call 'er a night and I'll give you a decent slice of the pie." His stance shifts as does his footing while he talks; Hwarang-Do a Korean martial arts he picked up from a Vietnamese soldier, the man was a master and an instructor for the Russians. A shame he got his jaw impacted in to his brainplate like he did. Cold Okroshka soup and a bad foreign remix of Dr. Dre's Nuthin' but a "G" thang filtering through that fog that surrounded Taskmaster's memory palace. His posture sideways facing her as she gets close Taskmaster snaps out the shield followed by an quick swing of the club at her knees, face then throat - meticulous, practiced and low-level bullet time speeds. The shield barred in front to act as a barrier for her own weapon.
He's fast. He'll see it coming. Loosen up, Domino. The man knows martial arts, better than you do. Ditch tradition, follow instinct. Don't give him a target--
But I'm..still..faster.
Where there should be a woman that's black, white, and red all over, there isn't. At the last second she comes in at an angle, diving, leaping, downright -vaulting- over and around Taskmaster in a way that's one part acrobatics and nine parts complete and utter random BS. Instinct is her guide. Willpower is her trigger. Her blades shear through clothing and armor, kiss the flesh beneath, taste the blood beneath that. Forearm, shoulder, one that comes dangerously close to his jugular, then a final, parting shot that leaves both of those blades thrown and driven into him from behind. One below the shoulder, the other to a lower leg. Fast, random, curiously clean.
Also too little, too late.
The club catches the side of her thigh mid-jump, numbing the limb in an instant, ruining her landing, killing her ability to stand for several precious seconds. The shield slams into her chest, further aggravating countless wounds suffered over the last several hours, launching her up and away from Taskmaster. His fighting is true, she can't land her own attack and deal with his at the same time. Damage for damage.
"-Huagh!-"
Domino falls in a clumsy tumble across the debris-strewn roadway, her leg failing to take the weight, her chest on fire and her lungs deprived of air. When she lands it's a struggle to peel herself away from the pavement, muscles already shuddering with the effort. Her will is strong, but her body's at its limit.
Taskmaster's grip adjusts to the impact of the club where it hits and vibrates through his limbs on impact. Solid, hard, brutal, she'll walk funny from the hits. That is generally how he likes to leave the ladies anyways. He'd like to claim it was easy but Domino is fast, he's fought faster of course but shes fast and agile. Those are always tricky. His left knee buckles and he's forced to reach back and remove the objects she so politely discarded in to him.
"I guess you don't like pie either." Can't blame her. Shes a professional like him and he'd lose respect for her if she took up on it anyways, it's not like her name is something silly like Deadpool. With a disgruntled flick Taskmaster's forearm snaps out and that hardlight shield slings off of it to careen through the air at Domino's face to collarbone region - she can thank the Star-Spangled-Boyscout for that someday. If she ever meets him.
Jackie tilts his head up off of the ground to eye Taskmaster as he and Domino continue the fight, and then he looks back to the west, laying still, breathing slowly, and feeling it somewhere deep inside as the sun continues to near the horizon. So close. Just a few more seconds....
Hocrap. Incoming..!
Does hard light make that traditional 'ka-wang!' sound of metal striking a skull? Honestly, Domino doesn't know. She's too stunned to hear much of anything.
"Sorry toots, but our dance is over." An uplifted hand and the 'energy' shield slings back in to place on Taskmaster's forearm. Showy and not necessary as it is projected but it looks cool and Taskmaster is all about appearances. Casually the skull sporting mercenary wanders over to Roy's unconscious body and leans down to pick up his sword sheathing it then one of his pistols; ejecting the clip, inspecting it only to re-insert and chamber a round - a whistle sound coming from him. "I hear the train a comin', it's rollin around the bend and I ain't seen sunshine since I don't know when." His shadow casts over Jackie as the gun rises up and takes aim on the man's skull. "Mhrhmm." Humming. "But that train keeps a rollin' on down to San Antone..."
In the aftermath there's a moment of silence, or rather quiet. The distant wail of sirens can be heard faintly over the crackling of flames. Jackie's wheezing breaths are wet and awful sounding, and the last of Domino's shell casings is softly tinkling it's way in a lazy roll over the asphalt. It's a silence disturbed by the sudden soft sound of organ music. "Because," Jackie's head slowly twists as he forces a smile over cracked lips, and the eye that can be seen glows with a soft inner yellow light. "the sun is setting." he slurs as he answers Taskmaster's question, and turns his head to the side to spit out another glob of something this time black and tar like, "Hey Princess, still wanna dance?" The organ music gets louder, cheery and happy it's not creepy at all... except it's coming from thin air.
To the west, where the sun has been setting the sky aflame with scarlet and orange, there's a flare, the last dying blast of light, flashes over the bridge, and in it's wake like a trailing cloak comes the shadows of dusk. Jackie's shadow, cast long and far behind him seems somehow darker then the others around them. The organ music is much louder now, and it's source is obvious. A twenty foot tall organ with pipes made from what appear to be the ribs of some great monster, with twining organic black tendrils coiled around it, pulsing with the music in a wholly unnatural manner, has sprouted from Jackie's shadow. There's a bench, and on it is a little old church lady with a bee hive hair cut, if old ladies were three feet tall with pop bellies, blackish gray corpse skin, and fingers that ended in four inch curved claws (painting a disturbing shade of plum) and wearing an askew pink sundress that shows entirely to much 'skin' for anyone comfort.
Around the back side of Jackie steps another small bloated gray corpsey looking creature, four feet tall with a wide mouth filled with needle fine teeth that gleam yellow in the fading light. It's wearing a crisp white suit with a white Fedora and is clutching a microphone made from a human thigh bone. It's mouth opens and a disproportionately beautiful voice belts out, "That's life!" a chorus of little monsters in choir robes spring to life and echo the first voice, though their singing isn't pretty at all, it's horrid, "That's life!' the little Sinatra slides forward smoothly in a little dance motion, "That's what all the people saaaay!"
Jackie rises to his feet as something thick and black and slimy begins to weep from the gash on his jaw, from his tear ducts of his eyes, from his ears, his mouth, it slides over his skin slowly, gripping and pulling at it as if it were alive and not a liquid at all. "You're ridin' high in April! Shot down in May!" continues the little singer as Jackie's long coat is suddenly shredded to ribbons as long thin spines erupt from his back and his slacks fall away in tatters as razor edged armor flows around his legs. "But I know the boss'll kill that cloooooown!" the tiny Sinatra ab-libs, "When the sun, the sun goes dooooown! I said that's life!"
The Darkness turns to face Taskmaster, his face hidden away now behind an armor plate, his eyes glowing with an unholy yellow light all their own as tentacles made of wet rubbery flesh appear around him by the dozens, open flexing circular mouths like lamprey eels opening and closing in a hungry motion, saliva oozing from their rings of teeth.
"I got all dressed up and everything." says the Darkness, his claw tipped fingers flexing slowly. "This time, I lead."
So... Taskmaster normally only hears the music in his head; played back and used to tether down some fantastic move he stole but right now Sinatra was drowning out his own singing of Johnny Cash. Not something he would normally object to but this... what is this? Where the hell? Darkness? People?
Quickly steeling himself and his nerves that have suddenly decided the gun should tremble to the left he waits for the singing of Sinatra Jr. to hit the right point, "I'm going to roll myself up in a big ball... and die." Gunshot at exactly the point he says die. That bullet aimed right for the space between Jackie's two hellfire glowiing orbs. Theoritically that would kill someone, but the Darkness isn't exactly just a someone anymore is he?
An eel like tentacle the size of Taskmaster's thigh glides forward in front of the bullet, taking the shot for the Darkness without Jackie even having to blink as the wee Sinatra belts out "Myyyyy... Myyyyy....". "Boys." the Darkness says in a soft hissing growl. "Fetch."
People often talk about fighting back the tide, and while the imagery is powerful, few fully understand the actual meaning of the words. Taskmaster no longer fits that select group. A literal wall of creatures erupts from the shadows around the Darkness as the man himself is lifted on a wave of seething living shadows that hurtles towards Taskmaster with the sound of an oncoming freight train. There is no where to run. In the immortal words of some unknown man, you think I'm trapped in here with you? No. You're trapped in here with me. The Darkness reaches out a hand and from the shadows a clawed hand the size of a Honda appears, reaching as if to pluck Taskmaster up by his torso in it's clawed grip, leading the charge.
No gas chamber induction session ever prepared a man for this. Taskmaster's eyes beyond the mask are showing their whites as that gun rises up and plugs off round upon round at the giant hand. His glowing shield re-appears and hurls out in to the Abyssal wave; fight or flight has kicked in and he is still in the fight stages but what does someone do against this? He doesn't even know what is going on anymore nor can he hear anything beyond the overwhelming drum beat and pulse of his heart. It's so loud it's defeaning. Full clip unloaded. Sword re-drawn to swing out in vicious wild accurate slashes. "Alright... someone call a time out!" Shakey voiced even with the metallic distortion of his voice modulator. The time for joking and fun seems to be over.
The Darkness closes in on Taskmaster, and for every arm he cuts off, every head he blows apart, for every blow he lands another creature, monster, nightmare rears up to take it's place. The tide. And then the host is just there, the Darkness himself, and his hand snaps up catching Taskmaster's sword in his gauntleted hand like it was a bat, and he yanks it free. With almost effortless ease he thrusts it down into the bridge's concrete while the other hand simply palms Taskmaster's chest armor and lifts him off of his feet as if he were a child. Task has felt that sort of strength before, it's the sort of effortless strength that the Big Guns have, the kind that makes tossing a car a small effort, and lifting a man hardly noticeable. His claw tips are sunk into the chest plate as if it were butter, and he hauls the skullmasked merc in close, until the shadows block out all the light, and all that remains for him to see are the twin glowing orbs of what was Jackie's eyes casting the faintest of pale yellow light across the man's features, his long hair falling away in whisps. "You shot me." the Darkness says, "In the ass." Some guys. They just don't let things go.
The armor creaks as the clawed hand flexes once... and then Taskmaster just drops out of it as all of the restraining straps that hold it on are simply sliced away. There's a blur of motion as the merc is shoved this way and that in the darkness by things he can't see, and odd scaley wet fleshy things seem to press against him from everywhere before suddenly pulling away. And then there he stands, on the bridge. His mask remains, as does his hood, but he's been stripped of his armor, of his weapons, his clothes. In fact, the only thing Taskmaster is still wearing are his underwear, his hardlight sheild generator, his mask, and the sheath for his sword. Everything else is gone. All of it.
The creatures have slunk away, far enough that only their glowing eyes can be seen in the various shadows they hide in, and instead only the host and Taskmaster stand faceing one another on the bridge. He lifts the plated armor and draws a claw down it's front, the metal that covers the vital regions curls away like an orange peel under that preassure. "You're a pro." The Darkness says simply, "I can respect that. Your contract is over, according to the original message, it lasted until sundown." his head turns to eye the night sky, "So you've missed your window." his glowing eyes then fall back on the mostly naked Taskmaster, "Business, nothing personal... Usually I'd skin you and feed your soft bits to the boys for even trying your hand at me. But you're good. To good to waste. So we're going to make a deal. You get to walk away with your cool toys. You come after me again and I will take your eyes and leave a pair of my friends in the empty sockets to keep you company forever." he pauses, "And you leave me your number. Could be I could use a guy like you in the future. So long as we don't become rivals I think we could learn to coexsist." the armor drops to the bridgetop with a soft clank. He doesn't offer any alternative to the deal, but currently imagination can do all the work needed there.
Nightmares tend to begin like this. Not that Taskmaster remembers dreams anymore than he knows what his name was originally. Physically trembling he tries to remain straightbacked and all but naked except his Scooby Doo boxer-briefs once he's dropped and finished his thrashing about and futile attempts to beat back any thing touching him, futile already mentioned and clearly the keyword.
"Uh... sorry about that..." Nod and nod. Taskmaster's head seems to have gone bobble."I think... you're right." He all but squeaks before clearing his throat, "Yeah, definitely, right. Suns down... contract is over."
Quickly gathering up his things and trying to maintain as much dignity as he can. Seriously he has no clue what is going on, good fun kung-fu party times turned in to a Lovecraftian short story. A fumbling hand fishes out one of his business cards letting it fall where it drops as he backs away - pointing behind himself then looking back at the Darkness, "Just going to be on my way."
One of the Darklings scampers forward and plucks up the card, bringing it back to his master with little mewling noises of subservience. "Shot me in the ass." Darkness repeats for the second time. "Feels wrong to just let him walk away, eh Tex?" a Darkling wearing a giant 10 gallon hat way to big for his head, a pair of aviator sunglasses, cowboy boots, a button down, and jeans with a gold belt buckle large enough to double as armor nods his head, which tips the hat to far forward and forces him to push it back up with a claw, "Ayup baws." he drawls, spitting to the side. The spit sizzles and starts to eat up the concrete. "In that case, maybe he should go for a job. I mean it's a nice night for January in New York, it's almost thirty degrees." Tex turns a toothy smile his bosses way and pulls out a completely ridiculously sized revolver, "No Tex. No guns. Just... play tag." Tex pouts and tosses the piece away then reaches down with clawed hands to jimmy his jeans up to his armpits before yelling "YEEEEE HAWWWWWW!!" and chasing after Taskmaster in his clopping cowboy boots, hat flooping down periodically over his eyes. There's no way the little guy with catch him, but he'll force more then a leisurely stroll on the merc.
"Mmh..did anyone catch the number of the asshole that just hit me..?" Domino blearily mutters while peeling her face off of the paveme--What the Hell is That?! Is that -Jackie?!- And she's still alive?!
"..This means I get paid, right?"
Gathering his things and hopping foot to foot Taskmaster finds himself being assaulted by what appears to be Yosemite Sam's demonic twin. Uncool. Even worse is the thing is sporting a gatlin' gun and firing potshots off at his ass. No time spared and in great haste the mercenary makes a fast running exit... screw this noise and fuck New York, fuck mobsters, fuck Sinatra and fuck running barefoot.
Jackie turns and walks back over to Domino as the shadows peel back off of his face... which is no longer bleeding, but is still smashed to bits beneath the mask. He waits until Taskmaster is out of sight and then slumps down next to Domino, a hand coming up to press against his side, "Oh Jesus Christ." he says, hissing out a breath and spitting blood to the side again, "I'm so glad he left, not sure how much longer I could have kept that up. Hurts... to breath..."
Jackie eyes Dom and nods, "Technically you didn't get me to Jersey... but I'm still alive. So yeah. Paid. Ow." he eyes her again, then the unconscious Roy, "Okay," he says, taking slow shallow breathes, "so this is what's going to happen. I don't want you to freak out. We're going to suddenly appear in Jersey. You're going to vomit because you will see nightmares and unspeakable wrongness that you will forget a second later but that your body will feel the need to expel. Then we will all get medical attention, hot tubs, food, rest, and yes, money. And afterward I," he groans as he slumps down next to her, wincing as he puts pressure on the wound on his ass, "will allow you to make out with me. I think that's fair, what with all the effort you put in. Sound good?" he asks. He doesn't wait for an answer, instead Domino, Roy, and he begin to sink into the shadows cast on the bridge, disappearing into the Darkness and reappearing at the insanely well guarded gates of a certain mob boss in Jersey. "Hey! Gino!" Jackie manages as he stumbles out of the shadows, he's half naked and obviously beaten all to hell, "Little help here?" a large Italian man holding an MP5 blinks and then runs over, "Couple of friends in the bushes, they need some attention too. Pool house outa work." Gino opens his mouth to protest and Jackie snaps him a look that makes his teeth snap together, "Tell Uncle Frankie if he's got an issue with it he can talk to me. They saved my ass, I owe 'em. I pay my debts Gino... you wanna be a debt?" Gino pales considerably and takes Jackie's arm and slings it over his head before he starts barking orders for more guards to come fetch the other two...
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