The Causeway, Friday [2/1]

[woofbloodywoof.livejournal.com]

Gaspode was sitting under an overhang near the causeway, worrying at a bone. He'd gotten most of the meat off it, but it was a big bone, sure to have plenty of sweet marrow inside, and he was determined to crack it open. The old jaw wasn't what it used to be, though.

Still, it's not like he had anything to do today. He just sat, and gnawed on the bone, and watched the traffic on the causeway.

[OOC: This is totally here just so I can cheat and have an intro/establishy post of my merc coming across the causeway. Anyone else want to do the same, feel free to ping in. Post is open to all.]

Comments

[fivebyfivemerc.livejournal.com]

She walked lightly and elegantly -- sashayed, even -- across the causeway to the island. It had been a long, LONG time since she had played hookie, and she was determined to enjoy every minute of it. Speaking of which...

She turned on all the expensive equipment that she'd kept silent on the long flight, and by the time she pulled the small earpiece out of her pocket and inserted it, an attractive Australian accent was already yelling at her.

"Jennifer! Where have you been?!? You can't just say 'I'm going off the clock for the weekend' and disappear on me!"

"I didn't," she corrected, calmly and professionally. "I also asked you to cover for me."

"This isn't a joke," Fiona told her. "Colonel Garrett's asking for you, and our higher-ups want to know where you are. And MY ass is on the line--" There was a small gasp. The last of Jennifer's equipment had finished warming up and started sending telemetry back to HQ. "What are you doing in WASHINGTON, Jennifer?! You're taking a very large risk -- the Pentagon hasn't been fully briefed on ExOps's involvement."

"Relax, Fiona," Jennifer instructed, almost but not quite chuckling. "I'm not going to the Pentagon. I'm at a convention."

"MercCon. Jennifer, we discussed this--"

"And I accepted the assignment only on the condition that I be allowed to attend."

"And I told you that was a no-go. You don't get to set terms like that; not in this business."

"And yet here I am. It's only for a weekend, Fiona. I was out of the field for four days last week, and no one complained then." Jennifer smirked. She really oughtn't be enjoying this quite so much.

"You fell from an exploding helicopter!" Fiona protested. "You were lucky to only be out of commission for four days!"

Jennifer sighed. "Have you ever known me to be less than professional? Grant me just this once, please. Tell Garrett my helicopter exploded again, and I'll see him on Tuesday."

Over the comm link came a barely-audible thunk that could only have been Fiona's head hitting her desk. "All right. I'll see what I can do."

[bootedpuss.livejournal.com]

It was the slitted green eyes of a trained killer which rested upon the causeway. And they remained there for a solid minute, silently assessing the situation.

Here, we had a bridge. Bridges crossed water. Water was wet. This was a dilemma. But it was one that Puss was able to overlook for the sake of the mercenary convention, which he swore up and down seemed to happen farther and farther away from Far Far Away every year.

Really, they ought to hold these things somewhere a little nearer, now and again.

And perhaps with less water.

Steeling himself for the worst, Puss took a deep breath and strode most courageously across the causeway, never suspecting what possibly rested on the other side.

[crazypilotman.livejournal.com]

It was a well-disguised Murdock making his way down the street. Well-disguised meaning that he stuck out like a sore thumb. Yes, it *was* an island, but the beachcomber look probably didn’t pass for normal around here.

But hey, tourist right? All tourists were obvious and wore dorky hats when on vacation. That plan may have worked, if only Fandom was the kind of place to regularly have tourists in the first place.

He whistled and skipped a little now and then as he made his way to the hotel and the convention. No, the rest of the team didn’t know he was here. He’d asked B.A to come with him, all he got was a ‘not on your life, fool’. But that was okay, he had Billy to keep him company. Poor Billy didn’t get enough time with Murdock because B.A. didn’t really like animals very much. Well -- ok, animals B.A. liked, just not the invisible ones like Billy. He hoped the hotel didn’t have a ‘no pets’ policy.

[thepenetraitor.livejournal.com]

Weasel was wearing a Very Long Trenchcoat on his way onto the island. Partly because he needed to keep his equipment safe (read: his laptop. He may have fired a gun once) and partly because he needed to keep himself hidden in case the rest of the Agency had already shown up.

It wasn't that he was afraid of them (okay, so it was that he was afraid of them) but Tasky had been in a Mood over something to do with an arrest and the Thunderbolts, which meant that Hayden was bound to be in a Mood over getting stabbed a lot, and the whole thing would just end in another orgy of violence.

He vaguely wondered why he'd gotten with the Agency in the first place. It wasn't as if he'd gotten enough of that from Wade way back when.

Still, it was a mildly cheerful, mostly terrified, and very conspicuous Weasel who trudged his way up onto the island. He'd managed to hack into the interdimensional Playboy Channel that morning. Nothing was going to ruin his mood.

Not even MercCon.

[spring-lost.livejournal.com]

With young Tether bounding past his feet and skipping into the causeway for a moment before doubling back, Cable's presence was sufficiently announced.

How he still managed to creep up on Weasel was anyone's guess. "Weasel," he nodded, and pulled Tether's leash tighter.

[thepenetraitor.livejournal.com]

With a lurch, Weasel sprang back, nearly knocking his laptop to the ground as he tripped back over the fringe of his trenchcoat. He impacted on the ground with a thud before muttering a confused and terrified, "...Cable. Hi! Um, good to see you back alive. ...how are you back alive?"

[spring-lost.livejournal.com]

"The clean ocean air does wonders." Cable shot Weasel a faint smirk before heading on his way, his own long coat swinging dramatically along down the road. "Wade'll be happy to see you."

[thepenetraitor.livejournal.com]

Dusting off his knees, Weasel attempted to sit up. "Yeah, probably," he called after Cable, then did a doubletake. "...Wade is here?" So this was where he had the husband and all that stuff. Then he did a triple-take at Cable's receding back. "...He did it again. Codependent."

He finally managed to struggle back onto his feet and resumed his way onto the island.

[omgpanserbjorne.livejournal.com]

Iorek padded along the causeway, armour clanking softly.

He was dubious about this MercCon, this kind of gathering was a human thing, no place for an ice bear. Still, Lee had thought it would be helpful for him, and he was prepared to give it a chance for his sake, especially when he'd all but thrown Iorek out of his balloon to get him to go.

[diet-deadpool.livejournal.com]

Hayden would deny being in a Mood.

If anyone was in a Mood, it was Tasky. Not his fault someone got arrested and had to spend some OZ quality time with Bubba.

"I might have pictured this place being larger." A beat. "And less wholesome CW programing."

[mrt-master.livejournal.com]

"It's big enough," Taskmaster grumbled. He was also very much not in a Mood. Ignore all the grumbling.

Grumbling was for morons like Hayden. "Let's find this hotel and track down wherever Weasel's slithered off to." He eyed Hayden. "You're not gonna leave the hotel and beat the crap outta anyone." Because Hayden would, and the only reason he was here was because Sandi had insisted. The quicker he was rid of the guy, the better.

Not that it'd be that easy.

[diet-deadpool.livejournal.com]

"Why would I do that when I have you right there for a prodigious ass kicking!"

And then couldn't help the small snicker over using 'prodigious'. He loved those movies.

Wilson's fault.

[mrt-master.livejournal.com]

"You're not gonna to try to kick my ass, either," he totally didn't grumble. "We're here to represent Agency X. You're gonna act like a professional just this once. Maybe that way we'll get less animal retrieval."

[diet-deadpool.livejournal.com]

"And underwear," Hayden added faintly, frowning out at the town. "But I kinda grew to like that elephant. The monkey could go and die in a ditch, but the elephant was noble and wise."

[mrt-master.livejournal.com]

"I'm not spending another five months dealing with elephant crap where I eat, Hayden," Taskmaster muttered, recalling the map of town he'd seen once in the leaflet three months back. "That way."

[diet-deadpool.livejournal.com]

Hayden was pretty sure that Tasky was using that photographic memory crap for naughty things too, but he was mostly just thinking about how this place sure as hell better have a decent French restaurant.

"I trained him to do that!" He told Tasky cheerfully.

[mrt-master.livejournal.com]

"Grumble grumble mutter," Taskmaster grumbled and muttered.

That's how it sounded, anyway.

He resisted the urge to take a swing at Hayden -- stay good, stay good, for Sandi's sake -- and stomped down the road.

[diet-deadpool.livejournal.com]

Hayden trailed after him, in a MUCH better mood from before.

"This is going to be the best weekend ever!"

[at-swordspoint.livejournal.com]

Richard walked across the causeway, for all the world looking like a perfectly ordinary (if quite handsome), modestly dressed man with a sword and a walking stick. If he seemed to not actually be looking at anything, well, surely that was the observer's imagination.

[rebelheartalien.livejournal.com]

[ooc: *SHRIEKS IN JOY*]

[jellyfish-head.livejournal.com]

He was hungry.

Lina had taken all the food, since she'd pointed out that her trip to the Sorcerer's Convention would be longer than his trip all the way to another world. He'd thought it sounded a little funny, but she'd threatened not to send him to the convention and his professional responsibilities had won out over his stomach.

...call Guinness. Or Ripley.

As such, Gourry was looking forward to what he might get to learn at this convention, but he was also looking forward towards the town on the island wondering where he could get food at the earliest opportunity. Lina had also tried to con him out of all his money, but he'd kept a stash out of her greedy little paws, so he could eat quite nicely while here.

[thegunsmithcats.livejournal.com]

The screech of the motorcycle as it stopped was horrific. Completely and totally painful. "MAY!"

Leaping off the back of the motorcycle, the taller girl tore off her helmet, dark hair flying everywhere. "This is why I don't let you drive the Shelby (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shelby_Mustang)!" Dropping to her knees, she ran her hands over the bike. "It's okay, baby, she didn't mean it."

"Rally, it's fine." The shorter figure took her helmet off, shaking out a puff of blonde hair. "I didn't break anything!"

"I beg to differ. You blew the tire out, and the engine is really not happy." Sighing, Rally Vincent stood up and dusted off her pants. "Get off, Minnie-May. We're going to have to walk and push the bike to the hotel."

"Raaaaaaaaaaaally!" May scrambled off the bike, sulking. "This bites."

"I'll remind you that this entire trip was your idea," Rally said, starting to walk the motorcycle down the causeway. "The repairs for this are coming out of your share of the next job."

"I'd be a better driver if you let me practice more!"

"To practice, you'd have to drive my cars, and that is NOT happening until you can handle a bike."

Bickering, the two continued along the causeway, sad little motorcycle in-tow.

[apocalypsesoon.livejournal.com]

somewhere out there, a Fandom alum was wincing in pain at motorcycle abuse.

[berserkerminsc.livejournal.com]

Why, yes, that was Minsc talking to the squeaking, slightly moving pouch on his belt as he strode across the causeway in search of the inn, keeping a careful eye out for any marauding bandits. "I hope," he was saying, "that you are not complaining about the weather, Boo! It could have been much worse; we could have gone to Icewind Dale instead!"

[not-mouthy-merc.livejournal.com]

Slade Wilson still wasn't entirely sure why he'd decided to come. It wasn't like he didn't have plenty to do back home after all. Still, he was here. Maybe something useful would come of it.

If he really knew what he was getting into, Deathstroke would be on the lookout for intellectual property lawyers.

[semiprofesional.livejournal.com]

A tall man in a gray peacoat clutching a potted plant in one hand and a large wooden case in the other. Nothing suspicious at all. It's every day that a man of the Italian persuasion walks on to a non-existent island for a mercenary convention.