Coming home
After a long day of tracking a target all over NYC, Taskmaster was finally ready to head home. It was only 4:05 in the afternoon, but admittedly, Taskmaster felt a little bit spent. The job he just finished was for a long- time client. The job wasn’t particularly difficult, but more like an annoying chase. All Taskmaster had to do was follow his client’s business partner around and shoot him in the leg at exactly four o’ clock. Taskmaster’s client didn’t want his business partner dead, he just wanted payback in the form of extreme leg pain. The client’s business partner canceled their meeting at the very last moment, which happened to be at four o’ clock. Very petty Taskmaster thought, but the client seemed to think the punishment was quite fitting. After a little bit of idle thought, Taskmaster snapped back to reality and immediately checked his watch. It was only 5 minutes ago that he shot that guy’s leg from the roof he was on. Staying in the same place after a shooting is a dangerous game to play in the merc business. Heroes are always on patrol, and the roof tops are the first place they check when looking for criminals. Keeping this in his mind, Taskmaster made his way to the side of the roof and found a drain pipe. He gripped onto it and slid his way down making a quiet tap as his boots reached the concrete. Now in an ally-way, shrouded by the shade between two buildings, he slipped into a mint green hoody and a pair of grey sweatpants. Looking inconspicuous, he slung his duffle bag full of gear over his shoulder. Disguised like a civilian, Taskmaster turned a corner through the ally, and began to near his NYC condo. He could easily afford something classier, but no one would ever suspect a top tier merc like himself living in some generic apartment building. Besides, there’s no point in frivolous spending like that, after all, he spent more time out working then he ever did at home. Upon casually entering his building, he opted to take the stairs to the 15th floor. He was tired already, but figured he’d sleep better with a couple flights of stairs under his belt for the day. After the climb that seemed longer than it should have, he finally reached his floor and walked up to his apartment. As he approached, he pulled out his keys and let himself inside. He plopped his bag on the couch and headed straight to his computer. Now he could do what he was waiting for all day… cashing in from his last job. As the money entered his bank account, one end of his mouth curled up a bit. Now that the job was officially done and paid for. This meant that it was time to look for new prospects. But first, a nap.
…
After a restful nap that lasted from mid-day till morning, Taskmaster was feeling rather refreshed. He sat down to breakfast, which consisted of a protein shake, a couple of steamed broccoli trees, and two chicken breasts. Now ready to start the day, Taskmaster headed for his computer and opened the Hench app. Yup, this handy software * is like Uber, but for mercenary super villains (Ant-Man #3). As Taskmaster was going through his list of prospective clients, a new job ping came through. Curious, Taskmaster opened the offer. Immediately, his eyes widened. This job paid $5,000,000! Though no one was around, Taskmaster exclaimed “WHAT!” He looked the offer over and found that the more he did, the more intriguing it became and yet, it was vague. All it stated under the objective description was: “To act as client’s escort and bodyguard.” And to make things more gripping, under the contact description there were longitude and latitude coordinates with the time, 13:00 instead of an address and phone number. Though the info was peculiar, Taskmaster didn’t think it was enough of a reason to sway away from taking this job. He would just have to be extra cautious on this one. He clicked the “accept job” box on the offer, and a green checkmark with the words “ACCEPTED” filled the screen. Then, the first thing Taskmaster did was to calculate where the longitude and latitude coordinates would lead him. After a quick Google search, he found that he would be meeting the client at a place in the New York suburbs. He wondered why the client didn’t just supply the address. After all, it was only a Google search away. He paused to think about it: this is either a sophisticated trick that was disguised as tomfoolery, or this was just glaring inexperience. If the contact was in the wilderness somewhere then coordinates are understandable, but the suburbs??? Taskmaster mumbled to himself, “If this is a sign of working for a Johnny-come-lately, I regret this job already”.
…
Deciding that his motor cycle needed as a spin and that his bike was the best option for this job, he rode an hour to his destination. Motorcycles make great get-away vehicles if you are operating a one man show. This cycle was custom built by Tony Stark as a gift for Hawkeye. Taskmaster had managed to pick it up amongst all of the confusion when the arrow-shooting shit disturber crashed a party at the Bar with No Name. Taskmaster couldn’t resist the thought of seeing Clint’s mouth drop when he realized his ride was stolen, so he hid in a nearby ally with a terrific view of Clint’s priceless surprise. The reaction was totally worth the risk of hanging around and getting caught. After five more minutes of twisting and turning down quiet roads in the suburbs, Taskmaster finally caught eye of his client’s house, which was better described as a mansion. He was curious to see who he would be working for. All the indistinct and unprofessional information on the job offer had definitely piqued his interest. It was almost as if this mystery client was trying (and failing) to look cool or something. Taskmaster slid off his bike and made his way towards the client’s front door. It was made of solid oak, and much like the house itself, it was huge. He knocked three times and then rang the doorbell once. A few seconds later, a deep voice which was clearly masked using some kind of voice editor came through a speaker next to the doorbell which spoke, “One moment.” Just like that, there was a clicking sound at the door as the person behind it unlocked it. Taskmaster was a little surprised at how someone was able to make it to the door so fast. Suddenly, the gigantic door swung open in such a swift manner that Taskmaster supposed it wasn’t made of solid oak after all. Behind the door stood a boy with fair skin and shiny blonde hair. He looked to be around fifteen years old and stood around 5’2”. Somehow, he looked familiar. It was a good thing Taskmaster was wearing a mask because he was staring at this kid with awkward disbelief. The boy at the door promptly said, “Hello Taskmaster, my name is Roland. Come with me, I’ll show you to my office”. Taskmaster, still a little surprised by the age of his client decided it would be best not to respond to the greeting of this Roland kid. He could tell that this kid was mega spoiled, and that once he got comfortable enough around him, this kid would be a real pain in the ass to deal with. The two walked through the mansion in silence, passing through a cavernous foyer with a marble floor made up of a checker board pattern. They made their way up a large staircase with a velvet carpet runner and railings with a gold finishing. Upon the landing, they then walked down a long hallway with many rooms on both sides. About halfway down, Roland slowed down and turned to the right. He opened a door made of glass. “Here we are,” he said. “Welcome to my office.” Roland walked in and gestured for Taskmaster to take a seat.
Roland’s office was an open space with large windows with light grey frames which displayed a view of the front lawn. Taskmaster could see where he parked his bike, “Convenient,” he thought. The floor was carpeted with an expensive rug that looked like it was purchased at an antique auction. Stretched against the back wall was a book case that reached the ceiling, and in front of it was a large wooden desk. Once Taskmaster sat down, Roland walked behind the desk across from taskmaster and took a seat as well. After a moment of silence, Roland cleared his throat and spoke, “As I’m sure you read in my job description, I’m hiring you to preform as my body guard and escort. Escort to what? I’m sure you’re wondering. Well, I’m on a mission to find my parent’s secret hoard of wealth.” Upon hearing the mission objective, Taskmaster was taken by surprise again. Ever since he saw this spoiled rich kid there was an air of familiarity about him, but Roland’s talk of his wealthy parents triggered Taskmaster’s memory. About a year prior, Taskmaster, had watched live news coverage of Spiderman fighting the wrecking crew. As the fight developed, Thunderball’s wrecking ball hit the news van which cut the news stream. Left with nothing to do, Taskmaster started flipping through channels and stopped on another news site broadcasting the election results for the new president. At that moment, the vice president, Norman Keene, was featured in an interview with his wife Martha, the head government scientist, with their son, Roland. Remembering this Taskmaster asked, “Your parents have high ranking government jobs, but do they really make enough money for you to want to steal it?” Roland smirked and responded, “Let’s just say that my parents take a lot of bribes. So much so that it’s only a matter of time before they get caught. If I act as an unknown third party and get to it before the feds find their paper trail, I can keep the money and no one would suspect a thing.” On hearing this Taskmaster gave a single nod of his head. Roland put his fingers together and spoke again, “I have a couple leads as to where my parents are keeping their dirty money. I hired someone to do some snooping on my parents’ computer. They didn’t find any thing remotely useful excluding a blueprint map of New York. On it is a condo building with a yellow scribbled star beside it with the word “Boiler”. I’m not sure where this will lead. That’s where you come in. I’ll contact you tomorrow morning with further details. For now, get some rest”. Taskmaster stood up and said, “Great, we will be in touch.” Roland replied, “Good”, and shut his office door behind Taskmaster. “Guess I’ll see myself out”, he thought. Taskmaster left the mansion and hopped on his bike once again. On the drive back home, only one thing was on his mind- Roland’s parting words. They rattled in his head, “Get some rest.” Taskmaster shook his head trying to shake it out. There was something just so cringy about a boy giving advice to a pro merc.