I want your moves.

Tasky never bothered to take off his mask around this city. Was the point? People didn’t know who he was and, frankly speaking, the guy under the mask was a complete stranger to him anyway. Still, every now and then the fact that a skull man was buying his milk would turn heads - something ridiculous compared to the real freaks in the city anyway.

Still, a man has a limit, and this one was crossed when Tasky had taken a trip on the train circling the city. Some... magical fairy brat had been staring at him all the way. Something had to be done.

Two bottles fell off a wall in a makeshift shooting gallery in a dingy alleyway of Hive. ‘Gallery’ was almost an overstatement. It was a bunch of cans and bottles lined up on a half-broken wall and a spare poster with the unfortunate model on it pin-cushioned by thrown steak knives like a dartboard. Real ‘fun at the fair’ material.

Taskmaster jiggled a few pebbles in his hand and fired off a few more between his thumb and forefinger. Once again they hit dead in the middle of the cans with enough force to knock them right off the wall. Two cans. Three. Now a bottle.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Still got it. 

As he was basking in his own glory the merc noticed someone has slipped into his little training ground. huh, could lead to something. He scooped up some more rocks and walked over to the newcomer, leaning in as his mask’s grin bared all in a mimic of his own smug sense of showmanship.

There was a sight for sore eyes if there ever was one. They fought once, Taskmaster and Thor, but all it did was give the merc a few serious bruises and the right to increase his rate a few fold. They weren’t friends - never would be, but without a contract to get up in his face for there was no reason for Tasky to even think about starting something.