MacDonald Gargan

“You’re not just about the poison, otherwise, why the suit? I know a Gotham boy who runs around in an old suit and a burlap sack and gases people for fun. He doesn’t need some mech suit for that.” Maybe he needed one to break bones and hold prey down, but Mac could easily gain the upper hand with the element of surprise. That’s usually how Peter did it. Mac could be infinitely scarier if he used the shadows to his advantage instead of parading around in a giant green suit. 

“Aww.. I was the first one you came to visit? That’s so sweet!” Peter returned and feigned a blush, “I had no idea we were that close.” Messing with them was really half the fun - letting out his frustration on the ones who could take it was the other half. They went hand in hand. The teasing riled them up, made taking them down all the better. “Pretty? Oh come on, I’m blushing here. You know I’m taken, right? Sorry, I’m really flattered, but there are plenty of other superfish in the sea.”

“Aaaaaand now I’m uncomfortable. You really know how to make a guy feel welcome.” Of course he caught it - and without even looking, just to make it a point. Peter gave it a glance before he looked back to Mac, his brow furrowed though hidden behind the mask. “You think you’ll get me this time? Alright, I like a challenge. This can’t be the only reason you’re here, though?”

-

He chuckled, “You’re referring to Dr. Jonathan Crane, I’m an admirer of his work, very high quality work. But he and I are a little different.” Showing no sign of fear he rose from the bed and stepped up to Peter, looking down at the suited up hero, “I like to get up close and personal. It’s all well and good to frighten from afar but you don’t get to see it. I like people to know it’s me. That I’m the one making their nightmares come true. That my tail’s poised to finish it whenever I want.”

He stared for a moment more after his macabre speech and, like an actor finishing a monologue, laughed and stepped back, not longer seeming as large, as frightening, it was an impressive skill, a PI needed to be friendly, approachable if needed. “Oh I know, Johnny Storm, brother of Sue Storm, Fantastic Four Member, mediocre actor.” he rattled off the information easily, “It could be fun to pay him a visit, see the man who caught the spider in his own web.”

“Until they get overly arrogant about it. I spent enough time in Academia to know that intelligence and competence can’t make up for everything.” The first time she’d ever used her plug-ins for direct harm had been on one of the most brilliant men she’d ever known at the time, after all. There were exceptions to every rule.         

“Fine.” She didn’t negotiate the price. Between what she’d made with NOVA and the absurd amount Adrian Veidt was paying out to her, she didn’t feel like wasting her own time by trying to barter. “I’ll have it transferred within the hour.” She closed the case again for safe-keeping. It may yet be awhile before she used the venom for anything at all, but she could analyze it and add it to the proverbial pile she’d collected. “I have another offer for you.” 

-

“Never had the chance, wanted to something fierce but when you’re a poor Mexican kid America there’s not a bunch of people lining up to hand you scholarships.” he smirked. Mac had long since stopped caring but at the time it’d been a dream shattered. “Just cause I haven’t got it written on a piece of paper doesn’t mean I can’t dissect a poison as good as any toxicologist.”

“I am not nervous.” Issac remarked sharply at the stranger’s accusation. At that moment, he was thankful for his helmet and the way it could hide any visible indication from his expressions that would give him away. It did little for his tonal cues, however, despite its modulation. He let out a loud scoffing sound as Mac continued speaking.

“Forget it. I am getting rather sick and tired of other criminals trying to hijack my hard work instead of going out and getting the information and data them-damned-selves…” He remarked sourly. “Scorpion. Petrified, really.” He added sarcastically. His body, however, reacted quite oppositely and he took a single step backwards from the figure. “My suit’s made from kevlar mesh… it’s about as annoying to deal with as anything the Bat and his boys run around in…” Issac explained as if it was a proper warning of sorts.

-

“Yes you are.” he smirked, showing a little too much teeth, “I’ve been in this game a while kid, even before I went full arachnid. Doesn’t matter how covered up you are, I can always tell when somethings feeling,” his tail jerked forward a little, “Twitchy.” It was almost too easy. Whoever this one was he was younger, that he could tell.

Ever the annoyingly curious one. Mac had his moments when he pressed Daken’s buttons in the past. This time around was no exception. He exasperated an exhale when addressing the other. An absent-minded stare shifted to his painted black nails on his right hand.

“Don’t waste your chemically induced bullshit. You know I’m immune,” said Daken. “I have family here, specifically my two half-sisters. Simple as that. For once, I have someone other than myself to think about.”

Soon enough, an evident smirk fell past his lips, thinking back to what his sisters were capable of. Being members of the X-Men served them great benefits but they had prowess far beyond their years. The smirk remained intact but there was a feeling of pride in his tone while speaking about them.

“I’d tell you not to hurt them but they’re more than capable of kicking your ass just as much as I can,” he chuckled, crossing his arms with a content sigh.

-

“I do,” he conceded, voice a lower growl; it was a strange thing, in his suit he was violent and vicious, it even came through in his voice. But take him out of it and he’d be quieter, softer and overall more pleasant. He tried not to look into it much.

“But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy sticking it in you one more time.” he added with a smirk. “As I recall, you enjoyed it quite a bit the last time around.” Not that he was looking for another go, but it was fun to bring it up.

“Sisters?” he let the final ‘s’ sound carry on for a few beats, “That’s interesting. Didn’t know you had family, save your old man.” Wolverine, but that was pretty common knowledge by this point. “Now now, I’m not looking for any trouble unless I get paid for it.” he chuckled, “And no one’s paying me to be here.”

Joker watched the strange behavior as the other took the drink. But how he went about his life was of no interest or concern to the Joker. He shrugged, listening to him before holding up a finger. “All in good time, Scorpio,” he responded with a grin. “We’re breaking bread right now. Sharing a drink.” He had work for him, but he wouldn’t be rushed. Joker set the paced. He killed the bats, he decided when the bombs went off, right? He’d earned his name and now he had to wear the mantle.

“So, my little buggy friend, I’ve heard your name through the grapevine. What do you do best?” Because he had the location and the set up in mind. Just had to know where to stick his heavy hitter.

-

“Most employers prefer to just set me to work. But if you insist,” he said lowly. The suit hadn’t detected anything awry in the shot so he threw it back with ease, resting an ankle across his other knee and managing to look comfortable despite the large tail curled up behind him. “Your last move was quite the play. Not many people I can think of who’d nuke a building for the fun of it.” Other reasons perhaps, money, power, scare tactic, but as far ashe could see Joker already had those things.

Peter didn’t like being the entertainment of the night. There was no ‘quip back and forth with Scorpion’ on the schedule for the day, so this was draining all the energy out of him, especially when there seemed to be no end in sight to this nightmarish merry-go-round he was stuck on. At least he had the suit on and Mac didn’t - that was the one plus side to this interaction. “Oh, yeah, probably. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve been crushed or drowned or electrocuted. Or poisoned.”

“Good. Glad that’s settled then.” There was no security because this wasn’t his apartment anymore, but he figured Mac would figure that out in his own time. No sense in mentioning anything now, not when he was being such a pest - oh, damn. “If you were dropping by, like a normal person, you’d knock on the door to see if I was home. If not, maybe leave a note on my door? Or shoot me a text, since you had no trouble at all in finding out where I live and getting inside. I’m sure you could’ve figured out my phone number.”

“… I don’t know if I should be offended or complimented. I’m.. I’m actually kind of freaked out.” Peter lifted a brow beneath the mask and watched intently as Mac reached into his back pocket. Whatever it was, he was on high alert in case it was anything potentially dangerous. “If it’s so pointless, why give it to me?”

-

“Hey now, be fair. I think we both know you can only attribute one of those to me.” he held up a finger, “And not for almost what... six, seven years now? After you sent me to the stoney lonesome I happened to be picked up by one of those oh-so shady government programmes.” he chuckled. Giving he’d ditched them there was no loyalty, might as well give up their little secrets. “Ever heard of The Thunderbolts? Stupid name but you can’t trust the government to get anything right.” he shrugged.

“Either way, I played good little solider for them for a couple of years but then, no more hero ban and here I am.” he smirked, “Right back where we started, ‘cept I know the pretty face under that spandex. And it was the face I wanted to see. If I just wanted you to know I was in town I could’ve left a note, but I didn’t want that. I wanted to see you face to face. Get a measure of the man behind the spider.” Honestly, he thought he’d be more impressed, oh well, plenty of time to investigate a little more.

God, this guy was disturbing - and that was saying something after having dealt with the likes of the Joker before. Blades extended at his wrists. “I don’t appreciate being threatened….” He remarked lowly as the man proceeded to inch closer along the surface of the wall. He mulled over the stranger’s demands about his quarry for that evening. 

He didn’t know what to make of this guy. He certainly didn’t look like any vigilante he’d ever seen, but the way he demanded to know what he had helped himself to had been more direct than just another random criminal. “Information…” He finally answered. “I specialize in the intangible… information. Data.” He clarified. “I go by Payload. You are?”

-

“But you’re too nervous to do anything about it right now, right?” he knew fear when he saw it. He’d spent years cultivating it, tending to his intimidation. It was the best defence and offence for several arachnids after all. His tail twitched just slightly, the rest of him unnaturally skill, another thing the suit helped him to accomplish.

“Cool. I’m glad we got all of our bases covered, then.” Peter really didn’t have time for this back and forth right now. He came to check up on some things and then head back home. This wasn’t home, but for some weird reason Mac seemed to think so, so he was going to try to keep the gig up a little longer. Though, Mac was no dummy, so Peter had to tread lightly with this one. “It was bound to come out sooner or later, right? I’m good at taking things in stride; this isn’t any different.”

“It’s a crime to break into a man’s home - especially when he’s not even home. It’s one thing for me to defend myself, but this is just plain cowardly.” Nope. He didn’t like that one bit. He didn’t like his name being used by people who only knew the mask. It was jarring, to say the least. “I don’t think you wanna get to know him. Honestly? He’s kind of a dweeb. Not sure you’d like him.”

“Yeah, Big Mac, I think we’re done with this little conversation here. I got somewhere to be, and you have got to leave my apartment. Like, right now.”

-

“Haven’t we just.” he said with a chuckle. This was more entertaining than he’d expected. For almost all their past confrontations the Spider had always had the upper hand, verbally, burrowing under his skin and remaining there was a constant irritation, quipping every two moments as they fought. Now though? He had the younger man on the back foot. He’d lost his edge of anonymity and Mac figured it was only fair to exploit it. “Isn’t that the truth. For all the spider-isms you’re really more like a cockroach. You’d find a way to survive a nuclear blast.”

“Ahh.” he held up a hand, “But I haven’t broken anything. Check the front door if you don’t believe me, it’s quite in tact.” The lack of security meant Parker was confident enough his home wouldn’t be raided (unlikely) or that he’d relocated somewhere else. He’d need to look into that. “Is it? I’m only dropping by to say hello, no need to sound to stung.” he chuckled.

“Competency isn’t a connection,” June informed him, “but at least it makes you tolerable.” For her purposes, anyway. She tended to be less willing to sacrifice people who had usefulness, especially if it was of a niche or rare variety. Certain skill sets took too much time to build or rare natural ability to just throw away. The world was too populated by people rooted in dull morals and lack of imagination already. 

June seemed unaffected by his suit. She’d seen it before, and she wasn’t one to be outwardly intimidated by much of anything. Instead, she balanced the case on one forearm and opened it with the opposite hand. “Harvester ant venom,” she repeated. “I could do something with that.” And even if there was no immediate use, she liked to have the resources. There could never be too many. “What do I owe you?” She had another question, too, but getting the transaction out of the way first was best. 

-

“It is on a mental level.” he chuckled, “I’ve found competent people are easier to bear than dumbasses.” Those ones tended to be on the receiving end of his stinger more often than not. But he appreciated June’s talents as much as he envied her her degree. That could’ve been him if life and money had been just a little different. He knew he had the intelligence for it or he wouldn’t be able to utilise his poisons the way he did.

He looked up, taking the fellow in. Normally, he might have cracked some jokes. He might have made some comments about the get up, the voice, the whole persona. But right now, he just watched the other. Interestingly enough, the Joker’s appearance was… subdued. So unlike the joker. The purple suit had been replaced with black, and the vest and undershirt were less primary. More pastel. Like color was sapping away. And it should be. It was disappearing from everywhere else. Like a reverse Pleasantville. Maybe he should shoot Tobey Maguire and Reese Witherspoon. Normally, he did love his Reese, but that might be fun. No more smiles from Elle Woods.

Waving a gloved hand, one of his goons–one of the ones brave enough to be around Joker right now given the fates of a number of the others when Joker was reminded just how upset he was–came forward with a tray of shots. “Why don’t you have a seat?” he asked. Maybe his suit was strong enough that he wasn’t worried that Joker might blow a hole through it. “Drinks on the house.”

He didn’t know what he had in mind. Not quite yet. Everything was so off the cuff right now. Whatever occurred to him. He was so out of sorts, like his energy had no container. He didn’t have a body and carried only a dull sense of awareness. “If you can even sit down in that thing.”

-

Honestly he was waiting for it. For some random throw away line or even a phrase that had nothing to do with the situation. He’d never been employed by the man before but everyone in their circles knew about him and stories got shared over drinks in seedy bars. It had to be cause the bat was dead. The guy was dressed like he was in mourning and, although his expression gave nothing away it had him on the back foot. Joker was impossible to predict when he was on his usual form but, this version of him? He hadn’t a clue how to interact. Thank God he’d some in the suit. His pointed tail twitched slightly, the suit already filling it ready to sting, just in case.

His eyes narrowed behind his visor and after a moments deliberation he perched on the end of the seat, enough space to quickly move and for his tail to still be mobile. “Thank you.” he said lowly, head turning slightly to take in the goon but never fully taking his gaze off of Joker. He plucked a shot from the tray but didn’t drink it, instead he held it by the rim, finger seeming to accidentally brush the top of the liquid while the tech in his gloves checked for any poison in the drink.

That smirk on the other’s lips were a sight all-too-familiar to the elder. The confidence that carried over was more than enough to entice him the first time.  Daken recalled everything in intimate detail. Oh, how he relished every steamy moment, hot breaths caught in his throat. Alas, that was in the past. A one-time deal.  

Still, he wouldn’t deny Mac’s attractiveness, even underneath the other’s suit. Posture intact, he snorted at the other’s retorts. Perhaps a little too curious, wasn’t he?

“I live in the area, dumbass,” he teased. “No one’s ever around to keep an eye out so it’s my job to keep shit under control, if you know what I mean.”

-

“No.” Mac said simply, “Too easy. You’ll live in a place and not give a shit about it.” He recalled that much. Though, Daken had at least treated those he was with well, or more importantly him for their brief liaison. He expected nothing more of it, of course, it had only been a way to pass the time holed up together.

“You don’t put effort like this into something unless there’s more in it for you.” His tail twitched slightly.

Issac’s feet clattered against the metal of the fire escape as he slid down the ladders and plopped into the alleyway below with a soft grunt. Breaking into a quiet sprint, Issac kept to the alleyways instead of grappling himself to another rooftop. He rounded into a wider alleyway several blocks down the way, where he was just about to remove his helmet when he heard a shuffle against the bricks of the building nearby - looking up mere moments before the man’s voice called out to him. Issac’s helmeted head turned to followed the trail of the tail attached to the man’s suit and he let out a loud scoffing sound.

“I know I’m one to talk, running around looking like some Bat-Brat… but what is with that tail? Early start on Halloween?” He questioned, ignoring the man’s question about his heist. It wasn’t any of his business anyway what he had or hadn’t obtained that evening.

-

Mac smirked, it wasn’t a pleasant look. “Compared to some of the nutcases wondering around this place I’m nothing special, kid. I am, however, very obviously armed and dangerous.” he flexed a hand against the wall, ready to pounce while his tail twitched just a little bit. “Now, I’m going to ask again, what exactly did you help yourself to there, hmm? Don’t make me repeat myself again.” The tail jerked once more, now filled with a paralysing concoction he’d mixed up as they were speaking, one of the benefits of his suit post his time with the Thunderbolts, it could mix different compounds on the fly.

June had contacts in certain very specific circles. She was as much a part of that market as they were, not only as a buyer but as a producer. It had been awhile since she’d sold her genetic plug-ins on the “open” market, so to speak, but her services were always available for the people who knew how and where to ask. In the mean time, she continued working either for pay or for her own amusement and curiosity. The particular order she’d placed was mostly the latter.     

Back in her days on Norman’s original “Avengers” team, they’d worked off and on with the Thunderbolts. She and Scorpion had crossed paths. There were too few people in the world that were of any use to her, so she tended to keep in touch (relatively speaking) with the ones who were. 

“I imagine it’s always lovely to see people who are bringing you money, isn’t it?” She crooked her finger, motioning for the case that he held. “Let’s see then. What do you have for me?” 

-

“Aww, you have to make it so coldly financial?” he rasped, his voice always rougher the moment he put on the suit, it was a mental shield as much as a physical one, changing his mannerisms some whenever he wore it. “Here I thought we had a real connection? No one makes poison better than you or me.” he chuckled lowly. Sure they used it for very different reasons and he’d never had the opportunity to put fancy letters in front of his name, but they were both experts in their fields.

His tail twitched just slightly, still up in its threaten curl, and he took a few steps closer before handing the case over, “Some of the finest specimens I could grab on my way here.” he told her with a smirk, “I’ve a few more that’ll be arriving in the next few weeks.”

Chaos || Joker and Mac

Everything around the Joker screamed danger. He was darker, his purples richer, his greens more toxic. After Harley had delivered the news, Joker’s soul had shifted. Like it had fractured. He had been a broken man before, but a shattered one was proving far more terrifying. 

Just this morning, Joker had murdered four of his henchmen at the breakfast table because he has found a fucking raisin in his pancakes. He found out after that it was a chocolate chip, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that they had had the audacity to serve him pancakes. To exist. To even be in the same room as him. But when they were dead on the floor, he wasn’t amused. It was just… empty. What was there to feel and experience when he had thrown his and Batman’s long running chessboard into a fiery death. Joker had destroyed himself. 

But the emptiness… the dullness… He needed to do something about that. Colors weren’t bright anymore without black to contrast. So he had thrown a dart at the dark web and found Scorpion. 

He sat on the couch in his club, a frown etched on his face as they brought the man in. He’d come with a job for him on the spot. No more preplanning. Only chaos.

-

The Hero Ban was gone, government agencies in chaos, NOVA disbanded, it was all rife with potential. He’d left the Thunderbolts at a damn good time. His resources were squirrelled away but there was so much more to pillage and plunder, so many more uppity little shits to put in their place.

Honestly his tail was twitching with excitement at the prospect. He’d been caged too long but now the city was his hunting ground and he had many fun new poisons to wreck havoc with. Getting paid for his work was a nice bonus, so when a very recognisable name had reached out to him he wasn’t about to say no. He also wasn’t about to walk into a meeting in anything less then his full scorpion suit, poison running through every spare inch of it ready to mixed into his tail should things go south. The red visor covering eyes contained a digital setup that clocked the bodies in the room, including the Clown Prince of Crime himself.    

“Wait, you know those, too? Wow, good job, buddy,” Peter returned in jest despite the harsh furrow of his brow. Did he want to throw Mac through a wall? Yeah, maybe. Maybe. But he wouldn’t. He reeled in that small bout of anger and let it pass over him as the next bout of questions rolled in. “Just peachy.”

He had to scoff and dropped his arms limply by his sides, shoulders slumped slightly as he shook his head in exasperation. “You wanted to meet me? By breaking into my apartment and waiting on my bed like a weirdo?” Peter wasn’t about to tell Mac he’d been relocated to a hidden bunker somewhere out in BFE before moving back to Johnny’s. It was likely he already had that information, but better not to put his foot in his own mouth. “Why not just send me a letter or shoot me an email or something?”

-

“I’ve even been known to manage my fractions from time to time.” Mac fired back with a smirk, leaning back a little on the bed and curling his fingers into the covers, “Really?” he asked lightly, “Cause you don’t seem it. Something not so fun about the whole world knowing your dirty little secret?”

Mac’s suit allowed him to easily scale buildings and cling to walls affording him several key vantage points when scoping out a new job. Poison was his expertise, but if his time as a PI had taught him anything, it was that information always promised the biggest payouts, and that building was full of sweet, juicy information. He’d been deciding where best to hit the place from when his suit display spotted a figure fleeing from a third floor window and down a fire escape. 

Interesting.

With a smirk, he changed tactics and followed the figure down several alleyways until they stopped. Like any ambush predator he crept closer, on all fours clinging to the wall above the figure. “Just what did you help yourself too, hmm?” he asked when he was only a few feet above them, his suit’s tail arched dangerously over his back.