Lemmings

[ms_tique]

Mystique stares at the HellHouse. This is why she has minions.

No.

This is where she acquires minions. Her current lot need a few more weeks to stew in jail after the bullshit they pulled while she was in Genosha. She'll break them out when she needs some muscle or when they stop whining about paid vacation leave, whichever comes first. Right

Comments

[hellhouse_inc]

Fenway's at the corner of the bar, squinting at the request.

"Ball girl thinks the urinal is the cooler."

[hellhouse_inc]

C.F. shakes his head. "C'mon, Fenway, Heineken ain't so bad."

[hellhouse_inc]

The short guy behind the bar turns around from polishing a glass - a once-in-a-blue-moon event.

"We don't rat out our guys, Mysti," he says, with an assumed air of familiarity, remembering the last time she was in this joint.

"Stick around a while, he'll show up."

[hellhouse_inc]

"I'd drink cup sweat before I'd drink that."

[hellhouse_inc]

Roach comes over with the two requested beers.

"One Bud Light and one bottle of piss."

There's a burst of laughter back at the bar, and C.F. forks over a bill to Fenway.

[la_belette]

Oh, Roach, you moron...

[ms_tique]

She smiles and hands Roach an empty beer bottle. "Fill this with piss and bring it back. I don't care who's."

[hellhouse_inc]

Roach blinks.

"Um... your beer doesn't really have piss in it, y'know. They just made me say that."

He holds the bottle, but blinks at her.

"That skull on your forehead is hot."

[wadewilson]

Suddenly, the door is kicked in.

Only one guy kicks the door in.

"WEAZ! WEAZ! WEAZ! WEAZ! WEAZ!" comes the call of Weasel's non-friend.

[la_belette]

"...Shit."

Weasel slumps down in his seat as low as he can go. Of ALL the nights...

Sometimes? He swears he can hear God laughing at him.

[ms_tique]

Mystique flips her cellphone shut. "Well. That should certainly save time."

She kicks a pyramid of empties off a nearby crate and nods for Deadpool to join them. A fingertip territorially grazes Weasel's ear.

[wadewilson]

He knows that "...Shit." well!

In two seconds, all the gun parts he was working on are scattered to the wind, and he's grabbed Weasel by the collar, landing in a squat on the offered crate.

"SWEET GEORGIA PEACH BREEZE, WEAZ! VICTORY IS MINE!"

He sounds positively giddy. And he hasn't registered Raven's presence at all.

[hellhouse_inc]

Finally, in answering Weasel's prayer, the door to the commode swings open, slamming against the wall.

Roach comes out. Staggers out. Sways out.

Drinking from the bottle. Which is now full. Obviously forgetting what he's filled it with.

There's a bulge in his mouth where he's sucking on the little skull Mystique gave him.

"I AM THE GOD OF HELLFIRE! SCOTT BAIO IS THE ANTICHRIST!"

[hellhouse_inc]

C.F. blinks.

"Is it Tuesday already?"

[ms_tique]

Mystique waves Roach over, smiling at the bottle. She's holding an athletic cup. Best not to ask where it came from.

"I recall mention of a taste test. You're sweating nicely. Be a dear. Wear this around for a few, then squeeze as much juice off your nuts as you can before bringing it back." She gives him a dazzling smile.

[wadewilson]

The stunned what-the-fuckery radiates from Wade like a solar flare.

...

...

...

"Did T-Ray take over this joint again?"

[wadewilson]

Wade squints a little at the page stickery. "This your pal Dominique's handiwork, too?"

He glances over to his Nutella.

"You sure about this, Weaz?"

[la_belette]

"Y-Yeah. Pay's good, she's a good customer. S'all good."

...She'll protect me from your psychotic past lays...

"Yeah, I'm sure."

[wadewilson]

His eyebrow cocks.

"You realize you can slip sexual favors as payment into the fine print of the contract, right?"

[la_belette]

Considering what just went down? Weasel doesn't even blink.

"Who's to say I haven't?"

...Please, Mystique, don't blow this...