Roleplaying Log: Overnight
IC Details

Waller has Owen Mercer brought in to ask a few questions… and she doesn't let him go right away.

Other Characters Referenced: Harley Quinn, Bucky Barnes (Not by Name)
IC Date: July 17, 2019
IC Location: New York City, NY & Belle Reve Penitentiary, Louisiana
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 18 Jul 2019 04:06
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 (Language)
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits: Amanda Waller by Ursa
Associated Plots

They very civilly sat at Owen's bar. They even ordered a drink. And then the two men smirked as one turned a piece of paper and slid it Owen's direction. 'Wall is calling. Time to go.'

Then the other man jerked a thumb in the direction of one wall, indicating the outside alley.

Then they settled a few bills upon the table, and left. …in a sense. They really went to go and sit on the other side of the alley's wall, smoke a cigarette, and wait for Owen to make a sensible decision.

…They may be waiting a while.

"You think he's coming on his own this time?" one asks.

"Gawd, I fucking hope so. I'm really not in the mood to go running after him."

The bar has barely re-opened! Owen's not even had time to change the order sheets back to reflect his own personal supply additions. He is just reconnecting with the other staff and trying to get things running smoothly again when he sees the goons walk in. It's possible they are with another government agency, but they are absolutely government goons there is no mistaking that. Owen lets out a long annoyed sigh as they slide him a piece of paper.

It's twenty minutes later and Owen has already kicked everyone out of the bar and closed up early. Business is slow enough that it hardly even matters anyway. Back in the office he looks at the note and mocks the text in grousing grumble, "Wall is calling." He places it down on the desk for the sole purpose of being able to flip it off with both hands, as if one middle fingered salute is not sufficient.

He considers running, or at least leading them on a merry little chase first but he feels the hairs on the back of his neck standup and survival instinct kicks in. And so he'll go quietly. And nakedly.

He strips off all his clothes and puts a cigarette in his mouth, grabs a lighter and heads out to the street. He lights the smoke and calls out, "I'm all yours boys!!" making a gyrating motion with his hips to get a proper helicopter going.

"For fuck's sake," one groans as his head flops backwards, clearly not paid enough for this.

The other is at least indoctrinated into the weird world of Task Force X as he doesn't even blink. He simply moves to grab Owen by his bare upper arm. "You wanna ride like that all the way to Louisiana? That's your choice. Ain't my ass sittin' on a metal bench for hours."

Owen probably hasn't thought this 'plan' out beyond the street but he's committed now. He doesn't stop the guard from grabbing his arm, though he does put a hand over it and say "Aw, I was hoping I could sit on your lap big guy." He blows smoke over his shoulder, as if he cares about not blowing it in their faces. Yes even in NY people stop to gawk at scenes like this, not because they are so outlandish or uncommon but because they often want to see what happens next.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Owen, the team that has been sent to collect him has perhaps done this once or twice. A minivan with tinted windows shows up near the mouth of the alley with only a few muttered words into a radio, and the horrified half of the duo trots ahead to slide the door open while keeping his head down to try to avoid anyone getting a good look at him."

"Not unless you buy me dinner first, convict."

Assuming all goes well, it's from there to a small private airfield. Because of course, its a private field and a puddle jumper sent to fetch Owen back to Belle Reve.

"I'd buy you a dinner and couple rails of coke if I thought it would get you to change your mind about our flight path."

Owen doesn't sound all the hopeful though and he doesn't put up a big fight to go into the van, or the eventual plane. He does enjoy the bit of extra space that going au natural affords him. "Are there snacks on this plane?" Owen asks, loudly, even though he knows that the answer is no. There are never snacks on the plane. "Ya know even semi reformed villains indentured to the US government by sub-cutaneous bombs in their skulls need to eat?" He eventually harumphs and settles in for the duration of the flight, singing sweet nineties pop tunes pass the time.

There's really not much to say back, especially once it becomes abundantly clear that responding just encourages him. From minivan to small plane. From small plane to Belle Reve. At least on the plane, though, (for all of their threatening) they offer him the option of putting on a jumpsuit with the explanation of 'we don't wanna go blind on the way'.

In Belle Reve, he'll be bumped and prodded along the depressing corridors until they end up in a small room that Owen has likely never seen. It has a small table with a few chairs gathered around it inside, no windows save the one in the door, and the most boring beige paint in the history of paint.

And there he'll wait for what might feel like forever… Until Amanda Waller finally makes her way in with footsteps falling heavily. She doesn't speak first, but she does immediately move to settle at the table.

The jumpsuit is accepted but only because it gets chilly on planes sometimes. Owen makes his way into the prison in a carefree strut, calling out "Hey Waaaaallleeer." before breaking into song, his voice actually surprisingly clear and melodic, "You're boyfriend's back and there's gonna be trouble hey laaaa day laaaaa, you're boyfriend's back!" The guards for the most part are used to both Owen's specific brand of weird and the general permeating weirdness in this place so they hardly pay him any mind.

Waiting for Amanda, Owen produces a boomerang which … where the hell did he get a boomerang from? is a very valid question. But he has one and he uses it to scratch AW + OM 4E… And doesn't quite finish the VA, because it takes a really long time to scratch into a table with a boomerang.

Amanda's entrance gets him to look up, and after a few moments of the silence he has to say something so he goes with, "You just had to see me again, didn't you. You saucy minx."

"No, I didn't actually," She looks at the table, and then lifts her gaze to him with her meaning very clear in her ice-cold glare. Buttons? Don't need line of sight.

In her charcoal pantsuit and white blouse, along a choker necklace of double strand pearls, she cuts a very professional figure that stands all the more polar an opposite to the son of Boomerang. "So, cut the shit. You should consider yourself fortunate that I was willing to risk wasting my time. So I'm going to give you an opportunity to make use of it."

She folds her arms onto the table, and leans in. "Is there something that you might want to tell me, Mercer?"

"That's a very fetching pantsuit?" Owen's response comes out more than a little confused. He's either really good at acting, or genuinely clueless about what she's expecting him to spill the beans on. He even punctuates it with a little shrug at the end. Not too much.

And "cut the shit" must be high on her list of phrases that she has to repeat because honestly how many of her 'employees' would ever tell her the honest truth about anything. Even if they did know what she was asking about.

If Waller is moved at all by Owen's 'flattery', it doesn't show on her flat features. She simply continues frowning and eying Mercer down.

"Let me narrow it down for you: we've got men bringing in Quinn, too."

Her head sharply cants a few degrees to one side. "Do you want to try again?"

The mention of Harley just gets Owen to look even more confused. "What are you playing relationship counselor? We broke up. What the fuck do I care if you bring her in?" Owen mistakenly thought that Waller meant that as a threat, to use her as leverage or something over him. If he's stressed out by the interrogation, it doesn't really show. He's his usual kind of clueless, inappropriate self. Just now he's in a jumpsuit.

He looks clueless, and Waller doesn't immediately say anything at all. Instead, she just stares at Owen Mercer in his depressing jumpsuit as he sits in the middle of a depressing room in the middle of a prison that surpasses the meaning of 'depressing' on nearly every metric that could be put to it.

It's not often that she levels the full and boring intensity of her dark gaze on him, but it certainly is there tonight. "We'll have you spend the night," she says as she drops her gaze at last to her hands, straightening and starting to push herself up to her feet.

"See if you can remember anything that you think I might want to know. Maybe you'd rather talk to someone else." She smooths her palms down her jacket front. "That can be arranged."

"I have a life to get back to Waller. So why don't you help us both out and let me know what words you want me to say and I will say them and then get on my merry fucking way?"

Owen's not exactly angry per say about the spending the night but he would much rather get the hell out of Belle Reve. He doesn't want to get into the fact that we was just given a chance to maybe get back on track with somethings, she knows all anyway but he doesn't want to give her any satisfaction in admitting it.


Owen's genuinely confused by that one. Waller is the only contact he's ever had here besides the guards telling him to 'shut up', 'put his clothes back on' and 'stop doing that with the stupid boomerangs.' So he can't help but be naturally curious about the fact that she's offering another person.

"Your new XO."

Amanda lifts her gaze just long enough to let that sink in, and then she turns on her heel. "And thank you for laying out precisely why I can be patient and wait for what you think might interest me."

She raps on the door, and it opens. To the guard on the other side, the instruction is simple: "Find him a cell for the night."

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