2019-04-28 - This Isn't Your Life


Deadpool and Ravager make good on a contract.

Log Info:

Storyteller: Betty
Date: April 28th, 2019
Location: Brooklyn Slums, NYC

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Theme Song



The groups name was unknown to most. They were small fish but their pond was wide enough to keep them stable. They were low-rung, thugs in fancy suits and kings of their territories. Their dealings were in a number of things: drugs, papers, protection, more than illegal amounts of porn, and even toes dipping into the pool of arms dealing. It had been ages since Blackie Gaxton held the crown to his men, having died years ago due to complications with diabetes. His death, however, didn't cease the gangs' functions. Instead, a disgruntled son took his place and kept the ball rolling.

Two locations were found as their HQ; one still in Philly and the other in a slum located in Brooklyn.

There was one request from Wade's client - Bring the leader to me alive. Perhaps said client just needed closure.

It only took a few calls for Wade Wilson to suss out the right targets. Just as he told his client; you don't go after the small timers, more the middle management types, maybe burn down a jewelry store or something. The part about bringing the leader to her alive, however, well… that wasn't sitting well with him.

So, he'd called up Ravager. This was gonna get messy, and he's got a gut feeling she's got the stomach for it.

There are three targets selected for the evening. The first is a place called Candy & 'More', a candy shop that sells junk candy and soda pop at a bargain. Oh, and coke, meth, heroin, too, not to mention the illicit weapons operation in the back room. It's one of those places that have been under NYPD surveillance for more than six months, which is exactly why it's the first target.

Deadpool is seated in a taxi cab across the street from the shop, his eyes fixed to a pair of binoculars. "Three smalldicks up front, and I'm guessing three to four boners in the back room," he tells Rose. "I've got two getaway bikes hidden in the alley out back. Let's make this one noisy so the assholes freak." He lowers the binoculars and stows them on his belt. "I want them sweating before we get to the next spot."

"Remember. I get half." Rose clearly does not have Deadpool's humorous demeanor. But, she seems to be on point with the plan of action. "Don't worry about me." Her Ravager costume is on. A pair of energy katanas are at her sides, along with a pair of automatic pistols. A pair of real katanas are on her back, along with a collapsable bo-staff.

"Let's go."

Rose stuffs the disposable cell into her belt, and jumps down to the ground from where she'd been crouched on the second floor fire escape.

"Hey," she calls to them, matter-of-factly. "Is it true you guys are just a bunch of small dicks? See, I think you're just both a really small pair of shrinking testicles. Or, are you -really- going to try and fight Ravager?"

In a city full of heroes, it was honestly an odd notion that made men /want/ to be badguys. Even less so on the mook paygrade. Anything could happen at anytime, but greed is perhaps an even more powerful thing. The question is…startling, as is seeing the woman in her full gear. A few men are moving boxes, eyeing each other before turning to Rose. They chuckle, one gives a low whistle. "Could find out," one offers, his hand moving down, openly palming his crotch and giving it a squeeze. "I think we have a treat tonight, Gus."

"Damn right we do." Gus leers.

Deadpool's humorous demeanor seems more subdued than when they first ran into each other. He's still vulgar and still cracking jokes, but it seems to lack the jovial, goofball baseline. "Half," he agrees without complaint, before climbing out of the cab and reaching for the shotgun slung over his back in place of the twin katanas.

A resounding *BANG!* preceded a bullet passing right trough one crotch grabbing hand, not to mention the cock and balls it's attached to.

"I got this one from the Punisher," he announces, while cocking another round into the beastly weapon.

Ravager doesn't even wince. Instead, she assassinates the other frontman with fluid motion of drawing her pistol and putting a bullet through the dead-center of his skull without another word before Gus can even cry out at how his friend had been shot. Lucky Gus. Then, she proceeds to move forwards into the area they were protecting.

The pisol is drawn, and with each hand she picks up the hilts of her energy-katana's. They sizzle, crack as she engages them, and then dual-wields them to open the way in with a fast criss-cross of pattern slashes, and a kick to set everything she's just sliced open into motion.

A cry wasn't needed. The barking and crashes of gunfire was enough to alarm anyone within the area. That, and sans-junk man is now set on the ground, writhing in agony as his one good hand, and the ground around him, flood with crimson. There's no doubt he would bleed out soon, but for now, he was going to suffer with molten shot peppering his body.

The front of house shatters and cracks, allowing the pair access. Some candy has melted, tossing up a sickly-sweet aroma into the air, mingling with copper, iron, and the hissing fizz of carbon from destroyed soda containers. The pair can hear a commotion coming from a back room and some scrambling below. There are more here, but the exact number is questionable. 10? 15?

"I smell a party," Deadpool remarks, and levels the shotgun at the locked door to the back room. A loud *BANG* and the locked doorknob is blown to pieces, allowing them access.

Rather than reloading, Deadpool slings the shotgun over his back and retrieves both pistols that are mounted at his waist. He kicks the door open, then levels the pistols and opens fire, perched right at the edge of the doorframe. Cover fire for Ravager.

Rose has rarely worked with a partner. Even with her father, she generally went out on solo runs, Slade only teaching her lessons 'after the fact'. But she recognizes cover fire when she sees it. The energy blades are holstered, and her pistols are drawn, one in each hand.

With cold precision, Rose Wilson moves into the fray, making each single shot count with the indifference of a cold blooded killer, turned mercenary for hire and the experience of someone trained by the greatest assassin in the world.

Three men go down before she needs to dive for her own cover, which she does, firing off another few shots while she soars through the air sideways, lansing behind the counter.

Bullets rip through flesh, tearing the men apparent. They were not prepared for this. Cops, yes, something heavier hitting? Not at all. The sounds of people moving dies down, a few hints of someone left alive in the bowels of the shop and little else. A few shots fire back to no avail, set off out of fear instead of any type of skill or use of aim.


The moment Rose dives for cover, Deadpool is moving in. He fires at those left upstairs, each shot a double 'chest then head' strategy. One of the bullets rips through his leg, causing him to hiss out, "Shit!" but he keeps moving.

At the shout from downstairs, he lowers the pistols just so. "Then get your ass up here before we come down there and wipe your asses with your own tongues!" A pause, and he looks toward Ravager, admitting, "Okay. That was gross."

Ravager rises from the counter, and moves to sit on it, calmly. The pistols are again holstered, and she waits with a professional sort of indifference that is impressive, crossing one leg over the other.

"Surprised you didn't bring Punisher in on this. He'd get his kicks for sure," she says, conversationally. "Or did you not want to split the kitty three ways?"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" There's disgust in the man's voice at the very idea DP was throwing his way. "OK! JUST DON'T SHOOT ME! A-ALRIGHT?!" More movement, the squishing of having to step over bodies and through puddles of god knows what, the man starts inching his way up the steps. Pool is the first to see him. A larger man, stout with probably more strength hidden under the flub. Hands up, no weapon in sight, painted in sprays of red, with wide eyes he looks between the pair. "W-what the hell do you two want?"

"I didn't want to split it at all," Deadpool answers Ravager. "I have my reasons."

As soon as the fellow appears, Deadpool holsters his pistols and walks forward, hands on his hips. "Hi!" he says, brightly. "Sorry about the mess." A brief wince as he realizes he just quoted Han Solo. "Easy answer. Get out your phone, call up the big boss man, and tell him to stop fucking with the Brant family. After that? We're done! I promise we won't shoot you."

"I want half your bounty," Ravager says, mildly. She gestures at Deadpool, "But he's the one with the client. So." She shrugs, looking at Deadpool, expectantly, letting him call the shot, it'd seem.

The man blinks, looking between the pair and then back to Pool specifically. "Wh-Brant family?" Hand still up, trembling like a leaf, he moves it down to his pocket. "Ju-just getting my phone." He promises before producing the old NOKIA brick model. He calls, with the press of a button, and then starts stuttering over the line. "B-boss? Um…so-so, two masks are here. W-we're suppose t-to stop with the Brants." He swallows and nods. "Y-yeah. Bennett's mom and s-sister." Frowning, he whimpers and eyes Ravager, then Pool. They could both hear laughing over the phone.

Deadpool's hand comes up, holding the hilt of a throwing knife. It's sent soaring across the room and strikes the man right in his throat.

"Figures," he remarks, and crosses the room only to pull the knife free with a spurt of blood. "Let's move," he tells Ravager.

The next target is a tax preparation place, ten to twelve blocks away. Deadpool rushes to the back door, which leads them into an alleyway. Behind a dumpster there are two motorcycles ready and waiting. He leaps upon one and fires the engine, gunning it down the alley. Before reaching the main drag, he quickly bends down another, even narrower alleyway, speeding along to avoid the cops that are arriving on the scene.

Ravager seems to have no trouble keepking up with Deadpool, mirroring his movements with insane precision. Almost as if she were copying him, muscle-movement for muscle-movement. She says nothing on the ride, either. Because for now, she -is- Ravager. And Ravager, for now, is merely a deadly mercenary for hire. who hasn't fully committed to that lifestyle, just yet. But it's a familiar one. Comfortable.

Far grander in scale (or at least in looks) is the office building they come across. The men here are a grade higher than the mooks from before. With a word out, but no specifics, the men are prepping with higher quality weapons. They're not to be ambushed, or so they think.

A pair of men stand outfront of the door, giving it away at something more important than it should be in this part of town, as others are inside, scampering about.

Reloading happens along the way. Deadpool, apparently, is to be on guard duty. As they approach the office building, he comes out with two throwing knives, one in each hand. The bike is suddenly yanked toward the front door, then jerked back around and to the ground. He leaps off, letting momentum carry him toward the guards. The first one finds his neck cut open by a left handed knife; he's spinning about upon striking the ground and slashing with the other toward the second guard's neck, carving room for Ravager to make her entry.

There's a squeal of tires as Ravager turns the bike sharply, before stopping. Deadpool has already taken care of the initial guards, and she has no misnomers they might meet some additional resistance.

She keeps her pistols holstered, and draws out her energy blades. But this time, she kicks the doors in with brute strength, and with each hand points the katanas towards one of the men likely aiming - and now shooting at her. She doesn't say a word. But, they KNOW she's marked them in her mind, as she starts running. Fast, towards the first one. Looks like it's her turn to draw the fire for Daedpool?

They though they were bettery prepared, but the dropping of guards and sudden charge of a woman with swords isn't something they experience on a daily basis. Scarlet gurgles out from the throast of the men Pool handled, and the space inside the building is lit up by the repetative explosions of bullet fire. Did they hit her? Did they miss? At least for now she's the only target. The man in her sights fumbles with a clip, eyes wide and doe like as Rose advances.

Suddenly, in comes Deadpool. He's charging forward, without any attention paid to ducking or dodging. His pistols are out, and even as he takes fire, he's shooting. The bullets only manage to slow him down a little, but even as his costume is torn up and his flesh rend, it heals almost as quickly.

Pausing to reload, one lucky gunman nails him with a shot in the side of his head. Some of his brain and skull are splattered on the wall, but rather than die, he merely slams against that wall, seeming loopy.

"Oh, hi mommy," he says. "Just a little cowboys and Indians with Scoutmaster Kevin!"

THat's new. But, Rose doesn't have time to watch Deadpool. If he lives, he ilves. And, he hasn't died yet.

She simply does a hip-check takedown of the guy she was charging, disarming him in the process. As the body lands in front of her, she makes several quick successive slashes in the floor with her energy blades - letting the man then fall -through- the floor, and land haphazardly into the pit below.

Energy blades are sheathed, pistols come out, and she shoots one man aiming for her now that Deadpool's brains are splattered.

It's chaos. There are few jobs revolving around Pool these days that are less chaotic and more to the point. Perhaps it was a vast difference between him and Ravager's MO. Regardless, the pair are doing a fine job at gutting out the building's top base floor. Bodies fall, cries call out, bullets fly and burn and cut and graze. One floor down, done and dusted. More men running down from an upper level an some from below.

After a moment of honest to goodness giggling, Deadpool seems to come to his senses. He steps away from the wall, shakes his head roughly, and takes a moment to observe what's happening.

"God, I hate head shots," he remarks while reloading, then charges along after Ravager. There's a brief break in the action, during which he sighs. "Sorry about that." He finishes reloading and looks toward the stairwell. "Let's make some noise."

As soon as the doors open, Deadpool is opening fire. "Wait," he says, "this is dumb, they're gonna make a wall of fucking corpses! Can you, like, carve through them with your fancy magic swords?"

"No." Rose doesn't offer any further insight than that, instead dropping to the floor below, landing squarely on the chest of her sucker who acted as a decoy for her.

Pistol shots ring out in the New York night, enter Rose Wilson from the upper flight, she paints the lower floor in a pool of blood, shouts "Okay I got them all!" Here comes the story of the Ravager, the name that criminals will come to fear, for all the savagery she's done, she's Deathstroke's kid but maybe one day she'll be the top mercenary of the world.

Of course, they weren't expecting a flanking attack, and that means Deadpool is only dealing with the upper crowd coming down, even as Rose runs back up the flight of stairs, peppering a few final shots up the flight to distract them, and give Deadpool a better line of fire and cover as he mows the rest of them down.

"Well that's clever," Deadpool remarks, and finishes dealing with the guys coming down from above. As soon as he finds an opening, he's moving in, this time stashing the pistols in favor of the freshly reloaded shotgun. He'd much prefer the katanas, but this type of job required something a bit more brutal, to leave the right message.

Once inside the stairwell, he eyeballs the wall, looking for the fire department standpipe. Next to it, buried in the wall, is the main gas line. Thanks to some research at the good old public library, he was able to consult some blueprints. The shotgun is aimed and fired, blowing a hole in the wall that also exposes a hissing sound from the broken gas-line.

"Never get sideways with the IRS!" he remarks, and plants a small explosive device on the broken gas-line, setting the timer for 30 seconds.

"Time to go!" he tells Rose, and spins about, headed for the front door and their discarded bikes. "Final target's waiting!"

There's a countdown in place and a warning. Following lead and knowing it's time to bail is always good, especially when a crackling explosion crashes out and destroys the building completely. Bricks and wood fly out, dusting the space around it in debris. A tower of smoke curls up and twists into the sky. A point is being made and more people can see it. People are already scrambling, no doubt emergency personal will be there soon.

Rose is already out the door, and jumping on her bike. This, at least, is an eventful night. No downtime. And, some assholes being taken off the streets. It's something she can get behind, even if some of her more recent contacts in the cape-world might not approve.

"Let's finish this," she agrees with Deadpool, gunning the engine, and waiting for his lead.

"Yeah," he remarks, "and get on with the part of the plan I don't like."

Thirty minutes later, Deadpool is driving a 'borrowed' Mercedes, with Ravager riding shotgun. Blackie Gaxton is in the back seat, his hands and feet zip tied and a ball gag shoved into his mouth. Don't ask where Wade was hiding the ballgag; just be thankful it's in Gaxton's mouth and no one else's.

A phone call is placed to Betty, instructing her to meet them at a specific location. An abandoned bar in Harlem, the windows boarded up, the place more than discreet.

Betty Brant looks at her phone when the call comes in. Answering, she stalls, but eventually agrees. By the time they were in Harlem, the new 'Blackie Gaxton' was trying his best to not vomit through his nostrils. He was struggling, angry, and marked with red from the slaughter having happened at his last house of opperations.

At the meeting place was Betty, dressed normally, pacing the floor and trying to calm her breathing.

By the time they arrive, Rose had more or less had it with Gaxton's mouth-breathing, and muffled pleading through the ball-gag. So, if the man flinches as she reaches for her chest? He can't -really- be blamed, as she'd slammed her fist into his sternum earlier to knock the wind out of him and told him to shutup.

Calmly, methodically, the young girl with the singular white eye lens in her mask, the other shrouded over completely, drags Gaxton out of the vehicle, pitches him to the ground.

She asseses Betty, then, but says nothing. This is Deadpool's client. Not hers.

Deadpool drags Gaxton into the building. The whole 'two people roughing him up' thing is effective, but Wade still doesn't like it. He deposits the man on the floor in front of Betty, then turns to look her square in the eye.

"So, here's the problem with wanting to meet Mister Blackie Butt-licker here," he tells her. "Now he knows who wanted him, and now you're officially in over your head. The only way this ends?" He pulls a pistol. "This way."

The pistol is aimed at Gaxton's head, but he doesn't yet pull the trigger.

Betty Brant looks at the man, her face twisting up briefly before she sighs out and swallows. Watching Rose, then Pool and back again, she licks her lips and takes a step back. "We were already marked. Mom…" she sighs and brushes through her hair nervously. She was tying up her hair, gloves on and space given to the trio. "Thank you," is all she says, digging out a revolver from her purse and leveling it at 'Blackie'. It shakes, she shakes, before readjusting her stance just as she was taught.

Gaxton, struggling to breathe, levels a good eye up toward DP first and then Betty. He was muffling something, words of some sort, growling and swearing perhaps, or just begging for his life.

Ravager's lips twist briefly. She slides her monocular vision to Deadpool, meaningfully. Then, to Blackie. And then, to Betty.

"Let us handle it. It's what we're paid to do." There isn't a plea there. Rose, though, has seen that hesitation before. The data adds up in her mind, and she can see what happens if Betty pulls the trigger.

Deadpool moves fast. He swivels around to put himself between Betty and the mob boss, apparently of the same mindset as Rose. "This isn't your life," he tells Betty. "It's his."

Deadpool levels the gun against the man's head. "Say cheese, fuckface."


Gaxton falls sideways, his brain splattered on the floor behind him.

"I don't care. This is different." Betty yammers, her jaw tightening as those warm eyes flood instantly. Gun set and breath in, her finger moves away from the trigger guard. She's not fast enough, however, as Pool moves between them, agreeing with Rose, and sending Gaxton's brain spraying out across the ground. A loss of breath and a shuddering exhale, she stares at Deadpool in pure shock.

"W-what did you…why did you do that?!" She yells out, arms down and gun dropping to the ground. Hammer set and safe. "You didn't…asshole! Mom's not going to make it and I didn't even get to deal with it myself!"

"Go back to your mother, while she's still here. It's dealt with," Rose says, bluntly, and without any empathy for Betty's position. At least, on the surface.

"Relax," says Deadpool, while holstering the weapon. He looks toward Ravager, then turns around toward Betty. "This isn't your life. Never was, and it especially isn't now. Your family's problems are over." He takes a step toward her, his tone earnest. "You owe us nothing. I've already arranged for our compensation. Go home. Forget this. And remember, none of this is your fault."

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