16534/Outlaw meets Deadeye

Outlaw meets Deadeye
Date of Scene:	10 December 2023
Location:	New Jersey
Synopsis:	No description
Cast of Characters:	Inez Temple, Floyd Lawton

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Inez Temple has posed:
Nothing good ever happens in New Jersey.

Case in point? The missions that the renown mercenaries Outlaw and Deadshot are currently in the middle of doing. Each has been hired by a rival crime family to take out the other's employer as part of a long-running family vendetta. Think the Hatfields and the McCoys, Joan Crawford and Betty Davis, Coca-Cola and Pepsi... Or two rival comic book publishers. That'd be vicious, wouldn't it?

Inez is currently walking with her employer out of his place of business, a landscaping company calling itself the 'Four Seasons' despite the humble looking storefront. She doesn't look like a bodyguard... If anything, she looks like a paid escort, running around in a pair of denim daisy dukes and a leather vest with cowboy boots and Stetson hat. The only indication that it's a New English winter is a fur coat. That said, the old man she's walking with is most certainly keeping his hands to himself, so who knows.

"Thought you said they'd strike." He mutters to Inez as she glances around under the cover of her cowboy hat, a breeze catching her fur coat and blowing it open to reveal the holstered pistols at her side. She rolls her shoulders, the coat folding closed again. She then tips her hat, glancing around.

"Patience, sir." She says, Texas drawl slow and lazy, "'Reckon' they might be havin' some performance anxiety."

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Nothing good ever happens in Jersey.

But despite Floyd Lawton's dislike of operating in New Jersey, when a certain job slides across his tablet to assassinate the other's employer, Floyd waits for a long moment before sending back a positive response. He'd take the job, if but that he recently watched the show Hatfields and McCoys and was amused that this shit actually happens in real life. Sometimes, you have to throw a wrench in the works.

Don't ask Deadshot to do a job if you don't actually want Deadshot to do the job.

Dressed in his armored red and black suit with the white mask and red monicle, he's checking his weaponry and ammunition, making sure everything is good to go.

Walking with his own employer, Deadshot growls. "Look, I don't like being out in the open. I'll just pull the trigger when we get close enough." He had a long trench coat around his shoulders so he could walk in daylight.

Then, he looks across the way at the person walking out of a wild west film.

...in addition to his target. "Would you look at that. Target sighted."

Was she an escort?

Dunno. He hasn't seen her before. He walks with his client, who also wears a dark suit and a fedorah hat. If that's the target, it's possible...

Nah, let's just assume this'll be easy.

Inez Temple has posed:
Once this mission goes tits up, as is oh so likely, Floyd should check out Ryan Murphy's Feud. Because if there's a take-away from that, it should be that Joan Crawford was more than ready to hire a hitman over some imaginary slight in Hollywood award season.

Feuds, man. Don't underestimate them.

And speaking of tits up and underestimating, Inez is apparently so busy chatting up her employer that she doesn't seem to notice the armed and masked man walking with *her* target. It does indeed look like it'll be easy. They're walking straight towards Floyd!

Floyd Lawton has posed:
It's like two trains coming to meet in the middle because a conductor forgot to change the railway. Deadshot notices Inez looking at his employer, a red monacle briefly shifting to his client for a moment as they draw near, before it quickly settles on his target.

It only takes a heartbeat.

Deadshot lifts his arm, a wrist-mounted submachine gun visible and clearly custom-made for only him in a unique creation, is pointed right at Inez's employer. Judging by his body langauge, he has every intention of putting a hole in his forehead. Yet, Floyd is a somewhat sentimental man. He's trying to keep his eyes on both the employer AND Inez at the same time.

One can only hope he's faster.

Additionally, Deadshot is actually a fan of Ryan Murphy's Feud. Because...holy shit, people be crazy.

Inez Temple has posed:
Deadshot is just a fraction of a second quicker than Inez... Mostly because he doesn't actually have to draw his guns, whereas it takes Inez a second or two longer for the two massive revolvers to be lifted from their holsters at her waist. One is pointed at Deadshot, while the other is on his client.

"I don't think so, partner." She drawls, with a grin that borders on the manic. "Y' standin' 'tween me an' m' payday, big guy." She tells Floyd, calmly and coolly stepping forward and in between him and her client.

Floyd Lawton has posed:
A fraction quicker is all you need.

Floyd is /just/ about to pull the trigger when the woman he thinks is an entourage or pleasurable company pulls a revolver on him. A massive one too. Granted, his equipment was bulletproof, but if she pulls the trigger faster than him, it could mean the death of his client and of course, a searing migraine for him or worse. Deadshot sighs. "Looks like we have ourselves a Mexican standoff."

He meets Inez's eyes with his own behind that mask. "Oh I think so." He returns fire on that. "/I'm/ standing between you and a payday? Clearly you don't get it. I'm here to poke a new set of binoculars in that man's head-" He gestures with his shooting hand at her eomployer. "So I can get my money and go home. You're not part of the equation." He tells her calmly. "Though look down."

And she'll see his other arm pointed at her midsection.

Mexican standoff indeed.

"So how are we going to do this? I shoot first, you shoot first?"

Inez Temple has posed:
"T' only thing Mexican I like is m' coke, buddy." Inez says as she holds both revolvers steady... given their size, it's a sign of superhuman abilities if walking around mostly naked in a New England winter didn't give her away first. "Or m' soda." She adds, before frowning, "An' m' tacos. Some o' m' beer, too..."

The arm pointed at her midsection is noticed with a scowl, and her own gun pointed at him goes lower... and lower... and just when it seems as if she's going to take the gun off of him, she lets it rest just below his belt. Floyd's given a mocking grin. "Y'd make a loverly soprano there, big guy. Hows 'bout we talk?"

She turns to her client, who's sweating bullets. "Give us 5?" She asks polite, pausing as if something just occurred to her. "Oh, hey, y' did set up t' payment, right?" She squints at him. "At least t' deposit?'

Floyd Lawton has posed:
"I get it, Tacos are more my thing. Enchiladas are the shit too."

Floyd watches her gun lower until it's pointing at his nethers and Deadshot just looks down, then back to Inez, then down, and back to Inez. "Really?" Deadshot frowns. "You'd look great in a wheelchair." Is his retort. If his bullet pierced, it's probably aimed for her spinal column at the lumbar region. "We can play this game all day, sweetheart." Though Deadshot finds her eyes and he frowns. "Talk. Sure."

Speaking of cost...

"That reminds me-" He looks at his boss. "You already wired half of the money, right?" His client is sweating buckets. "Well, I mean..."

Inez Temple has posed:
Inez's own client doesn't look too terribly calm either. "I mean, I sent your handler the confirmation..." He looks utterly terrified though as Floyd begins to ask his client about payment.

Inez nods understandingly, and lowers her weapons. "Well. I reckon' the answer t' this is obvious. I weren't paid to ensure survival, just that y' buddy there dies. Same f' you?" She eyes Floyd. "I reckon' I know a really good Mexican restaurant just down t' streets. Endless tequila, an' lots o' empanadas."

Floyd Lawton has posed:
"Well then."

As soon as Inez is pulling her guns away, so does Deadshot. His wrist-mounted guns seem to rotate into a 'rest' position and he hides them under his coat. "Yep." Floyd remarks to Inez about ensuring survival. "Guess they better hash this out between each other. Not making a move without my payment." He looks at his employer and hers. "I'd figure it out if I were you." He looks at Inez directly.

"Well shit, I'm starving."

He walks up to her and offers an arm. "Shall we?" There are very few things Floyd won't do for endless tequila.

Inez Temple has posed:
"Stupid whore!" Inez's client grabs her arm when she moves to take Floyd's arm with a smirk, and the blonde cowgirl is momentarily taken aback by his reaction. "T' fuck I say 'bout touchin'?" She hisses at him, suggesting that he's gotten a little too handsy with her before. She pulls her gun and cold-cocks him between the eyeballs, sniffing in disapproval before turning to Floyd.

She links her arm through his, and he can feel the strength in the slim arm as she flexes to tuck her gun back in. "Honestly. No respect f' a lady. Outlaw." She introduces herself, the free arm lifting to tip her hat in salute to Floyd. "Mighty glad not t' have t' kill y', stranger. Y' like tequila?"

Floyd Lawton has posed:
"Woah. Tough language."

Deadshot proclaims as Inez's client reaches and grabs her by the arm. Floyd looks like he might punch the SOB in the face or just blow his face off and take the payment later. But instead, the blonde cowgirl manages to handle it herself, clocking him right between the eyes with her gun in a classic pistol whip!

Then her arm is slipping through his and he can feel the reminder of a strong grip on his arm. "Fair enough." He chuckles. "Deadshot. Nice to meet you." He compliments. "So how long was he trying to grab the goods? Normally you wine and dine a lady first before asking." He lifts his hand up to reach for his mask, taking it off and stuffing it in his pocket.

"Dunno if I can say the same yet, but at least I have a drinking buddy." He's honest, at least! "Love tequila. I take it your a fan. Think they'll work any of this out by the time we come back out this way?" Of course, Floyd's client looks at Inez's client and he just looks at an absolute loss. "Deadshot, you bastard!" He calls after him, but Floyd is too busy flirting.