3485/A killer is hired

From Heroes Assemble MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
A killer is hired
Date of Scene: 21 September 2020
Location: Warehouses
Synopsis: Bullseye scares little Reggie, and gets a job it's coming up aces.
Cast of Characters: Bullseye, Wilson Fisk




Bullseye has posed:
    Middle of the day in Manhattan, and here -- in the Tenderloin -- a man pulls up to a warehouse in a black Harley. The man in question -- a bald, rough-looking man in this early thirties -- lights up a cigarette and narrows his eyes. His face looks carved from worn leather, and the hard glower on his face looks like it's been etched into granite. He was sent an encrypted text from private number to show up, here, at this exact time, and someone messaging this phone from a private number can never mean anything good.

    "Guess the Hilton was out the question," he mutters to himself with a smirk while taking a hard drag. He examines the door outside for a moment and shakes the handle, keeping one hand by his pocket. He doesn't have a gun on him, not today -- but a man like this? With his reputation? It could be a business card, and whoever's inside might want to watch their tone unless they want their throat cut by some goddamn cardstock paper.

Wilson Fisk has posed:
Reggie, the busy little redheaded nerdy lawyer, is sent once more to a warehouse; he is getting paid. His horn-rimmed glasses are slipping down, as he shoves them up, as he throws his joint down, dusting his nose with a purple hanky, cleaning up the dust of a good time. He arrives right on time, 15 minutes after the scheduled time, of course wanting to keep him a little annoyed.

That lawyer lets out a deep sigh; his right hand is holding that skinned alligator briefcase, inside once again is a tape recorder, and paperwork, and this time one mill in '50s. Reggie comes in looking for the man; he is nervous. His eyes are glowing in the light, as he moves towards Bullseye."Hello, there I'm here to meet with you. I'm the spokesman for the Kingpin."

He sets the table down on a crate, opening it with a loud popping sound, as he places the tape recorder down, his finger hovering over the play button. "Ready for the job?" The greenbacks are glowing in the case, as Reggie looks at it for only the brief of moments, greed flashes in his eyes.

Bullseye has posed:
    Not exactly who he's expecting, but Bullseye gives this little nerdlinger a simple nod for him to play the tape. He knows the score and could recognize a power move when he sees it, but decides to forgo any pleasantries concerning this job. He approaches the lawyer, lights up another cigarette, and obnoxiously blows it in Reggie's direction in a power move of his own. "Let's hear it."

Wilson Fisk has posed:
The nerdy lawyer pushes the button, he does not seem even to wish to share the eye with bullseye.

"Hello, I have work for you. I will have much work for you if you pull off this first job. One million in cash, paid in advance. You will be my go-to hands for violence, murderous intent." The voice is a deep rumble of power, lots of base, friendly, calm the words slowly spill out from the tape into the room, as if to fill it."Hell's Kitchen needs to be cleaned of those that wish to stop crime; I need those do-gooders, to be no more. So, we can take it." The voice stops again; the sound of a match on hardwood."For each dead one, you get another one of those cases, if you take the job, say yes to my man. It is contracted work, simple no paperwork, no trail. Reggie here, will be your point of contact to me."

The tape ends, and Reggie looks freaked out; this is murderous intent, murder pure and simple. Unlike his other meeting, since he took this job this week, those had plausible deniability, but not this one. His eyes are wide, as he gulps down on the air, he is freaking out it is all over his face.

Bullseye has posed:
    A devious smile slowly snakes its way across Bullseye's face. Full-on mayhem against New York's cape-wearing scumbags with absolutely ZERO restrictions on methodology or collateral damage? That, and each notch on the kill count is an invitation for more? Give 'em the ball, coach. The assassin extraordinaire rubs at his chin and responds with a solemn nod. "Count me the fuck in," he replies in his low, raspy voice, taking another hard drag. "Who's the lucky bastard that I get to make famous?"

Wilson Fisk has posed:
Reggie is freaking out, as he looks towards the door, and then Bullseye."I don't know, and I don't want to know." With that, he is handing the man a cellphone, as he gulps down air."That will txt you targets, but if you find your own and prove they are worth money, he will pay. That is all I know. Bye." Reggie runs for the door, full tilt towards the door, leaping into his car, leaving behind in a haze of burning rubber and gas. Of course, he will do the next job, gambling debts, hookers, and drugs don't buy themselves, but for the moment, he has reached his end of the moral rope, but what is excellent power brings them back into the fold.

Bullseye has posed:
    Bullseye arches an eyebrow at Reggie's skittish response, and flicks his cig to the floor upon receiving the burner phone. "Guy like you? Yeah, maybe it's best that way." He pockets it and watches the lawyer dash out as he shakes his head. A snicker soon follows. "Yeah... some people are killers, and some just get killed. Glad you know your place, you fuckin' geek."