A Shady Deal (Wicked & Dr. Fate)

The larger part of the Platinum Playhouse would look like whatever it looked like to whoever walked in, but Wicked wasn't there this time. She had some things to try out. The Training Area was to her design of course, and it looked pretty standard aside from some personal touches. It was a fairly empty concrete warehouse with some benches and crates and shelves around. Pretty standard except they were lined with fine china. The corners of the room had blown-out speakers that blasted bass-filled tunes that could almost but not quite drown out the sound of the witch blowing up absolutely fucking EVERYTHING.

BANG

One of the shelves splintered and shattered with broken wood and flatware as it was filled with 12-gauge buckshot, the smoking barrel of a revolver in Patricia's hand as she spun it twice, raised it to her lips and blew the smoke away with a smile. Like... this was the fuckin' BEST. She could just come here, destroy shit and get away with it! FUCK yeah, dude! But like, she was here for a reason other than mindless destruction. Wicked had one of her eyes closed, the other one covered by her eyepatch. It was really trippy but she could see out of it, everything came in waves and echoes and she could just tell where everything was. But she needed to get used to it. The pumping tunes made everything really easy to see as the sound bounced off of it, way better for getting the hang of this crap.


BANG BANG

"Hahahaaaa...! Get FUCKED, yo!"

More sudden explosions of shattered glass and breaking shelves came as she thumbed the trigger. Oh yeah, she was here for another reason. Wicked put out a notice that she was selling some shit she didn't want anymore and checked back to see a reply on the note she left up at the bar, but like she didn't wanna spend ALL her time here drinking so she could kill two birds with one stone this way.

Dr. Fate wasn't sure why he'd even bothered coming to the Playhouse. He had no interest in helping them full time, or even part time, if somebody came up with a better offer, but he had the address. Might as well do something with it, right?...right. Nobody seemed to be around, for the most part. Well, nobody he cared enough to think about too hard. There WAS something that caught his attention, though. That being the loud annoying music and sounds of destruction coming from another room. He was here with a purpose, though, and that was buying some actual equipment for his PT activities...as much as he hated the fact he had to perform them now. Still, these powers seemed like a decent enough way to get some cash...of a sort. He didn't even recognize the currency he made, but it seemed to be...legal soul tender?

At any rate, maybe the person making the noise knew where he could find the person selling the items. So, after straightening his hat a little, and resigning himself to the possibility of being attacked, he followed the sounds of things blowing up, and found himself in...a warehouse? Well, he also found a girl(?) who seemed a little too trigger happy, but...whatever. Part of him wasn't even sure if she could hear him, really. That music was WAY too loud. Eventually, he decided not to do anything stupid, like destroy the speakers. Way too dramatic, and also she was holding a gun. Instead, Dr. Fate made his way over to her.

"Hey! Know where I can find someone selling some used crap?!" He tried speaking over the music.

BANGBANGBANG

The witch put her revolver down to her hip and fanned the trigger, exploding everything in front of her in a rapid succession of shots. Hip-firing didn't really matter when she was shooting buckshot, not like she was going to miss with a wall of lead. The recoil caused her to need to take a step back and it made her wonder....
...just HOW much better would an automatic shotgun be? Duuuuuuuuude that'd be rad as fuck! As much as her reasons for doing it contrasted to everyone else's self-righteous losing battle the outlaw life suited Patricia incredibly well. She liked the action, the violence, the guns and explosions and freakin' nothing was gonna take that away from her as long as she was smart about it.
"BOOM, HEADSHOT! Ahahahahaaaaiiiieeeee...! ...haaaaaaa..."

Patricia raised her revolver barrel-to-ceiling and jerked it to the side to free the cylinder. The spent shells slipped out of her revolver, clattering to the ground with hollow thocks. She really liked that sound, it seriously sent a chill up her spine. If she was fuckin' stupid Patty would probably make shotgun shell windchimes it sounded so nice. But as she thumbed more shotgun shells into her revolver the sound of the music changed. Like, it was an echo chamber, the door opening distorted a lot of that. She turned her patched eye toward the source of the new sound and could make out a shape, could see its footsteps. It was a person for sure but she couldn't exactly tell who, she'd need to practice more. Wicked wasn't worried about it, he didn't look like he was gonna attack her or whatever so everything was still cool.


The witch shouted back to the wizard as she turned to meet him and stopped. Ho. Lee. Fuck! He was dressed just like she was!
"Oh my gawd, you look just like me! Ahahahahaaaaa...!" Wicked gave a friendly laugh, a lot more amused at the coincidence than she probably should of been but seriously that was wicked sweet. In a second she'd drop her hyper-activity and come down off her fun to take care of business. Like, she was selling shit to get paid, y'know?
"Yo seriously you got money right? I don't know who you talked to yet but like, I can't afford to give shit out for free."

"Yeah, I got the paper, obviously. I've been to a yard sale before, I know how this sort of thing works. Well, as long as she knew she was a psycho bitch, he supposed. He was starting to think the Government might not have been as paranoid about the terrorists as he thought, if chicks like this could worm their way into the Playhouse...still, he needed items, and she HAD items, so his choices weren't exactly varied. Plus she wasn't that wannabe Magician. Last thing he needed was another potential sales pitch for this place. Deciding she'd probably want proof first if she was even slightly competent, Rory produced enough VC for the item he wanted. "Yeah, we sure do look similar...I guess. If I could've picked I probably would'a gone for a pimp hat instead, but what can you do, right? What the hell even are 'Velvet Lenses', Glasses made out of fabric, or some shit? Either way I'm buying them."

Well homeboy wasn't stupid, at least he knew how stuff worked. Patty wasn't really worried about him having the money or not as soon as he walked in and spoke up. Like, he was new. That much was obvious. And if he tried to fuck her over she could probably blow'im up super easy but that totally wasn't gonna happen which was good. The witch liked to blow shit up but like, she didn't like to start drama, y'know? Everyone would get on her ass and it'd start some crap she didn't wanna deal with and like... this guy was new so he should get a chance to be shown that this place wasn't full of fanatics or crazies. Well she was kind out there but she could be cool as long as people let her do what she wanted to do and have fun. Seriously, this was THE COOLEST thing in the world and people treated it like a job. It got on her nerves.

"Yooooo, pimp hat! That'd be bomb as fuck, ahaha! Dude, you'd totally have to get a cool name with that, like Mac Daddy Benjamins or some shit!" Wicked giggled some more and snapped her wrist to the right, jolting the chamber back in her revolver as she dug into her coat for the shades she had. The lanky chick produced a pair of blue-tinted round sunglasses, gently used but without a scratch on them. She really liked those glasses, they made her glowing eyes look green and shit and it was REALLY cool. Buuuuuuut she couldn't wear them with her eye patch, the strap got in the way and it looked retarded. Wicked kicked out the frame with her thumb as she handed them over.

"Nah it's 'cause they're blue and shit I think. I don't know how they work but they do make you stronger, like you can take more hits before biting the curb and stuff. It's probably magic or something, I dunno, it doesn't make a lot of sense but nothing really does. Just go with it, dude." If he was interested Patty would take the money and count it to be sure before stuffing it in her coat. She twirled her revolver in her fingers a bit while she talked, idle hands annoyed the hell out of her, she had to keep doing stuff.

"Like, I'm Wicked. Like The Wicked Witch, an' I don't know who you know yet but I'm not like 90% of the people here, I actually know how to have fun." She rolled her eyes as she spoke in a droll tone. Some of the people here were serious buzz kills. They were alright in small doses but she was different and that was pretty clear, so like, a warning was in order. Or an invitation. Depended on if he was cool or not.
"So who are you? Wiz or something? Yoooooo, Lil' Wheezy! That's your pimp name! Haheeheeha!" Patricia dipped her hand a bit to throw her revolver in the air from its spin and catch it.
"Hey, got time? Wanna shoot with me? Like this place looks however you want it to look so I thought I'd shoot some plates for practice, it's way fuckin' better than hitting targets." Screw it, might as well invite him to do something. It was way better than shooting by herself anyway. Besides, she could see how cool he was.

Trade:

Rory handed the cash over, pocketing the shades. They were sure to be useful later.

Action: