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A Merc's Life is a Jolly Life


Cyrith

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The woman looks up just in time to be blasted back by Badb's radiation. She doesn't get up. Meanwhile, the two jetpack-toting individuals fly up on opposite sides of Badb. There's no way that she could hit the two of them with a single blast without circling around one of them. They open fire on her, but she manages to avoid their shots. It seems like it's some sort of small caliber ammunition. That makes sense, because recoil would make flying that much more difficult.

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Badb is just about to lay into one of the flying adversaries when something in her mind clicks. 'Get the proof into Grant Co. hands.' In her battle frenzy she had almost forgotten that part of the contract. Badb flies to the ground next to the knocked out women, before attempting to hoist her up and use her as a human shield. "You all work from Grant?," Badb asks while looking for a pocket on the womens outfit that she can slip the proof into.

(OOC: I'm assuming the knockback didn't put the women out of my range.)

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Badb quickly discovers from her manhandling of the unconscious woman that she doesn't appear to have any pockets. Women's clothing can be so impractical sometimes. Granted, those times usually aren't "a mercenary needs to plant evidence of a group of supervillains stealing from her company on you", but it certainly is the case here.

There's no question that Grant Conglomerates has something to do with this. The lethal armaments combined with the quick reaction to the call from the spear wielding man could only have come from people with deep pockets and shallow morals. That said, even the men in jetpacks hesitate before they would shoot through the hostage that Badb has taken.

"Coward!" one of them shouts. "Hide behind an unconscious woman." The pair circles around her, hunting for an angle where Badb can't protect herself with the woman.

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"Big words coming from a man what tried to get me in a two on one. Bigger words considering ye obviously planned for more. I think I need to bring back down ta earth." Badb takes aim over the shoulder of her human shield and lets loose a blast. For a moment Badb considers shoving the evidence into the womens mouth, but dismisses the idea as possibly homicidal. Maybe she could toss it in the cab of the truck.

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The man that Badb shoots at is about to make some sort of comment - she can even see him open his mouth - but when he's hit by her radiation, he flies back into the pile of rubble, not moving.

His partner continues to fly around and look for an opening. He's moving defensively after seeing the damage she was able to do to someone in armor similar to his, but more determined now that he sees she's willing to kill them.

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"You have the power to end this. I've got a package to deliver, you have the contacts to get it where it goes. So I'll make you a deal. You come down here, you take the package and you get it just as high up the chain of command as you can get it. Or, I do to you what I did to him. What's it gonna be?" Badb brings her arm up and prepares a shot."Trust me, you don't want to be a hero."

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He hovers in place for a moment, making it that much easier for Badb to target him, then glances around to see what's left of the armaments scrambled against Badb. No one else is out of their transportation - the other van still with its melted back door - and it doesn't look like anyone is watching the two of them.

He speaks in a quiet, strident voice, "Leave it on the ground and go. You can fly faster than I can."

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"You just make sure it gets where it needs to go. Otherwise you and I are going to have problems." Badb, without taking her eyes off the man or dropping her charge, releases her hostage and grabs the proof with her other hand. She puts it on the ground in front of her, nods and looks around for the remote that the women dropped earlier.

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Badb can't spot the remote control. It must have skidded off somewhere when the woman was hit with Badb's blast of radiation. The man in the jet pack doesn't fire at her, even after she releases her hostage, but he looks at her with fear in his eyes.

"Get out!" he whispers stridently. "If they see me letting you go, they'll kill me." He seems to realize that this might not be enough to convince her, and continues, "And then I can't deliver whatever it is you want, and you don't get what you want."

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Badb nods. If she can't spot the remote chances are no one else will see it without having to search for it. And by then she should be long gone. With only a short backward glance Badb takes off at top speed out toward the Arena. She has no intentions of actually going there, but figures it to be a good way to throw off any trackers.

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Badb appears to have shaken any pursuers that have remained. After a half-hour without any sign of Grant Conglomerates' minions (or the police, or other superheroes looking to see who destroyed a building), she can assume that she's as safe as she ever is. Trap-Door hadn't really covered how she was supposed to prove that the information was given to Grant Conglomerates, but she presumably has some way to convince him, and she definitely has ways to contact him.

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Fairly confident that no one is following her, Badb flies back to her car and changes once more into Addie. She drives home, adrenaline pumping through her veins, stereo blasting loud. Addie parks her car in her designated space, clubs it for safety(though in this town she knows it's more for mental security then anything else) and lets herself into her building. Quietly as she can, which is fairly quietly, Addie climbs the stairs to her own flat and unlocks the door. There's a message on the machine, but she ignores it as she picks up her phone and calls her contact number. "It's done. They have the proof, and a diminished fighting capacity."

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Her message goes into a voice mailbox. There's nothing incriminating about it, which is always a plus when hired to be discreet. Addie doesn't hear anything back that night from Trap-Door or anyone else in Larceny, Inc. The next morning, she may have started to think that they intend to stiff her. Her fears are in vain.

When her phone rings around 10 o'clock, Trap-Door is on the other end of the line.

"Sorry love, just got the message. We spent the night in Bali and forgot the time. Now, I'm a trusting soul - and I saw the news about that prematurely collapsed building - but who did you deliver the proof too, and what damage did you do?"

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"One of Grants goons with a jet pack received the package. Don't worry about him not being one of the higher ups. He scared enough that I'll kill him if he doesn't give them the proof. I figured it best not to tell him I don't kill. Not for your price anyhow." Addie pauses for a moment to catch her breath. "As for the damage, I roughed up a couple of thugs without a pair or braincells to rub together, knocked around some sort of human flashlight, brawled with a man who rather amusingly called himself Culchulainn, knocked out what might have been a business professional, and blasted one of the other jet packers into the rubble. I'm fairly certain he survived. I'm sure it's nothing they won't recover from in a few days, but it's enough for them to get the message."

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Trap-Door grunts during the part about how the package was delivered. He doesn't seem too impressed. When she continues, he cuts her off after she mentions who she brawled against.

"Did you say Culchulainn?" he asks, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "What did his weapon look like? Did it touch you?"

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"It was a spear, as one would expect coming from a man using the name of an Irish Folk Hero. And he hit me once. I assume that's significant?" Addie wasn't sure why that mattered, and she further more wasn't sure she cared. Not unless this was something for her to worry about. Or possibly more work.

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"It's not the man that you have to worry about. It's the spear. Gáe Bulg is real, and it possesses men, making them into Cúchulainn. If it touched you and you're not dead, then it hadn't held its host long - or you surprised it," Trap-Door says. "You'll get your money. Knowing that Gáe Bulg is in town - and apparently, under the control of Grant Conglomerates - would be enough for your pay alone."

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  • 3 weeks later...

"You should be careful with such information. Where I another kind of person, I might take that as my cue to ask for more. But as it is, I'm content. If you need any thing else, ye know how to go about contacting me. For the right price, I'll put the hound of Ulster back into his grave. Leave the money on the building where I met you. I'll be there in an hour."

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