1963-11-07 - Bad Luck Betties
Summary: Everyone gets a case of the bad lucks!
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
raven logan domino barney 

Evening in the sticks of New York. Once one gets outside of the City, the landscape becomes more and more rural until winding roads and small patches of houses are the norm. Sod medians become bushed medians become treed before forests happen. And on a clear night, it's actually pleasant. The moon is up, the stars can actually be seen now that they're far enough away from the light pollution.

Barney is on motorcycle, his jacket flapping in the breeze behind him. Gloves are on his hands, and the pack behind him holds his 'tools of the trade', as it were, plus a few extras. As he takes the road, passing the neighborhoods, the schools, the fire departments and such, he keeps his attention forward and focussed. He's been doing research, and everything points to a particular home that is only a couple more miles out.

As the approach is made, the engine is cut and Barney parks the bike a little bit away so as not to alert anyone with strange vehicle sounds. This sure as hell isn't his first time, and everything is lined up. He's done the research, done the aerial maps, and now? He's going in.

Dressed in black, down to his fingergloves, Barney is the essence of professional. He approaches the house from the south; tree cover and there shouldn't be anyone in the back kitchen anymore.. they should all be upstairs in the old colonial-style house, in bedrooms or office.

'Just' a man and his wife…


When considering dating someone new, diving right into the deep end is perhaps not the best move in the world. Domino hasn't had a lot of practice with this stuff and she can be impatient as hell. After just one evening of drinking and hunting down rioters with the man in the woods Logan, she's decided to throw all of her chips onto the table.

Another call is made, this time with a promise of 'something fun' along with her usual run of directions. Where and when to meet. This time it isn't some dive bar, it's a dark and lonely rural road. She's already parked there in a 'not at all shady' dark brown van. There's something different about her, though.

She's -all- white.

Face, clothes, hair, the whole nine yards. Complete blizzard white-out. No more spot on her face. White as freshly fallen snow on the night of a full moon.

Not far away from where she's parked is a driveway leading up to a quiet house all by its lonesome. There's the sound of an engine cutting off in the distance while she waits, too far away to be of concern.


Logan pulls up on his own motorcycle, the Indian's engine rumbling as he drives along. He's wearing gloves (he may not get hurt from the chill, but it doesn't feel good regardless), along with his bomber jacket and jeans. He flares his nostrils as he pulls up, cocking his head at the van and figuring that's about where Domino told him to meet her.

He knocks lightly on the door, keeping his head on a swivel in case they're spotted, "Hey, darlin', if that's you, you prob'ly oughtta let me in 'fore people think I'm a prowler."



Trust is the glue of life.
It's the most essential ingredient in effective communication.
It's the foundational principle that holds all relationships.

And those lines were full of shit.

Any motherfucker could claim trust and promise another motherfucker four motherfuckers the world and another motherfucker to work it. Then, they'd turn around and do something motherfuckerish to another motherfucker, which deems them the motherfucker to not be trusted.

Trust, it's the true motherfucker of all motherfuckers to walk the motherfucking Earth.

If this woman, who used to be blue, black, probably red sometimes, purple once, could in turn trust a motherfucker (or twenty) she'd be swimming in gold bars and harrassing child.. Alright. Nevermind that! But this was about 'trust'. Every once in a while, a girl/guy has to keep tabs on whom she's working with. That's why.. or perhaps why she was there, hiding away in the woods like that one motherfucker who stole the Lindbergh baby.. maybe. There's a story to tell about that. But that'll be sometime later.

(EDITORS NOTE: There really isn't. No ones going to touch that story with a ten foot pole.)

Though for the purpose of this current mission that Raven put herself on, she wasn't the same true blue woman she was. She wasn't the stalwart black woman who had an ass for days, nor her usual blonde haired, blue eyed visage that most of her closest people would know her by. Nope.

She was a man baby, full with fruits and dangles and dressed down in a plain jacket and a gray sweater. There was a little scruff upon his chin; brown skin and oddly colored eyes with a low cut that was slightly smoothed back with tiny texturized curls. There would be no light. Just a watching of the gathering nearby the house. Perched just a little high upon the horizon. High as in, settling upon a branch with a crouch, manly fingers grasping the tree branch that was thick enough to hold his weight even though not all was what it seemed.

Just what in the world was Logan doing with Domino? And who was that man who rolled up upon the motorcycle?

Raven sees all. He doesn't hear all, but goddamn he saw all of that.


Unlike those other clowns, Barney Barton (Yes, that's his name..) is actually out and doing some work! He crosses the yard, having already made sure that any dog is out for the count. No barking tonight, thank you!

Once flat against the house, he's got his shears out, and the electrical box is opened. He's got timers on the street lamps, and with a glance to his watch, cuts the power to the house at the same time as the streetlamps *pop* out. It'll be a job for ConEd, and no one in the house will believe they've been singled out.

The area goes black, giving Barney a little more time to work. Making his way to the side yard, where there are fewer windows, the former FBI, current SHIELD … guy starts to work in earnest. He digs out his accelerant, then the flash to light it all..


Heh. 'Darlin.' It really is sweet how the short, scruffy one talks. Rather than let Logan into the van Domino steps out with a backpack in hand and, very gently, closes the door behind her. "Actually, we're already here."

Motioning to the driveway, she says "There's a house at the end of the trail here. Husband and wife, both in their sixties. I don't know about her but the guy's got a past that could very well be shadier than your own. Tonight I'm going to be playing the part of one of his past demons coming back for him."

"The plan's simple: Truss 'em up, toss 'em into the van, drive 'em somewhere with some proper ambience, then ask 'em a couple of questions in a language which he will understand. He has military training so he might put up a fight. Having you and your claws on hand I figure this'll go real easy, and you just so happen to bring an intimidation factor like few others can."

Here she holds back, making sure she's got proper eye contact with Logan. "This one's important. Not some random hit, not a job from a neighbor because he borrowed a screwdriver and never returned it. He's not nice people. Hurt a lot of good people in his day. Karma takes many forms. Tonight it happens to look a lot like us."

And there's the sales pitch. All or nothing. Logan did say that he ran some shady stuff back in the day. Is he willing to play this one out with a gal he barely knows? And why in the -hell- did the lights just go out?

"That part wasn't supposed to happen," she says in a low tone while slipping a Colt 1908 pistol into her hand. (The gun's still black, anyway.)


Logan listens to the sales pitch for a moment and considers. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing for which Chuck and the others were well-suited. But maybe he needs to keep doing his own thing, too. And his own thing, well, it was a lot more like this than it was getting up in fancy PJs and hoppin' on a jet to go fight some random mutant evil.

When she points out the sudden loss of power, he flares his nostrils, trying to catch any errant scents on the wind. Of course, there's always a chance he might catch a certain scent wafting from the trees as well, his keen senses opening up.

"Guessin' you ain't the only one lookin' to grab this particular package, then," he says to Domino. "We better get movin'."


Lights out.

Raven moves with efficiency as he tilts himself downward, the clear muscle control that the mutant has was uncanny, for each movement was held for a second too long to ensure the quietness, each bend and curl of limp deliberate and unfolded until feet were pointed towards the ground and the branch itself let go of. The landing was light as well, high agility in which there was a quietness that lacked the snapping of a twig. Boots lightly play over the ground before he takes a bend; one knee pressed to the ground as the unzipping is slow.. deliberate.

Yes. She knows Logan. Knows what he could do. There was close to a year stint, followed by a ten year stint of her spending time with the Hound of Baskerville.

Gloved hand parts the sea of fabric, and with a turn to adjust footing, he lays in wait. Nothing was pulled from the bag just yet, there need be some sort of noise.


ROLL: Barney +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 46


Accelerant away, and Barney starts placing it in places around the outside of the house, not drawing lines, but rather hot spots that when it is hit by fire, it'll flame up and burn through. The way it lies, though, the investigators will be looking inside, and not consider the drying vegetation without. All around the house, and it's back to the back door again where there are the most shadows to hide within.

First, the sliding glass door is tried; it's lifted a little so the slide doesn't make noise against the metal footing. It moves, shifts under his hand but it's locked. Easy enough to pick, however, and there's a moment when the figure in black simply stands there before the door comes free and moves silently open. Barney has his bag in hand, and starts to lay out flammibles around the house into small piles, keeping his gaze on the stairs up.


ROLL: Domino +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 39


"Sure looks that way, doesn't it," Domino mutters darkly. There's a lot weighing on this operation, really more than what she's letting in on. She can't risk losing this to some half-rate asshole who happens to stand in her way. "I'm gonna get upstairs, try to find the target. Think you can buy me some time?" Logan should be able to sniff out that accelerant, though it's not something she's yet aware of. She just wants to focus on her main reason for being here tonight!

Right now the front door is looking nice and clear. It should only take her a moment to pick her way through the lock…

Dom's hands drop to her sides head tilting skyward in frustration after breaking one of the picks in the deadbolt. -Okay.- Plan B. She takes a few steps back then combat-marches right for the door, ramming a boot into where the locks are positioned. There's a *Bang!* and splintering of wood inside, pieces of debris still falling into place as she brings her pistol up in both hands and -very quickly- recons the area.


Quick and (relatively) quiet she's taking them two at a time. There's only a few precious seconds before the target and his wife are out of bed and on their feet. She has to be ready for them before they're ready for her.

(Move it, soldier!)


Logan follows along quickly in Domino's wake, but stays outside, "Careful, somebody's got an itch to burn this place," he whispers fiercely before she heads inside, wanting to warn her that the place could go up in flames around her. He starts to stalk the perimeter, tracing the trail of accelerant and popping his claws, the telltale *SNIKT* marking his position.

But that's okay, he's trying to be a distraction after all. Getting the guy's attention (and it's a guy, he can smell that much), "Come on, ya mook, come out an' fight already, I ain't got all night," he mutters.


Time stop motion. That's how Raven moves. Hands sink into the bag as he pauses.

Hands draw out with a high powered, military (in that time) sniper rifle with the scope smacked on right when that foot hits the door. There was a slow shake of his head, the scope lined up with a few clicks, a few slow crouched steps forward as he clears the brush so that he could position himself rightly. A lay flat upon the belly as he draws the kickstands down, resting the butt of the rifle upon his shoulder to scan the area with subtle, quiet turns.

Time to start fucking up peoples shit!


Barney's head whips around the moment he catches the banging on the front door; the lockpicks only made the *click* sound… and he knows that sound. It's the sound of failure! Of course, the sound of door splintering soon after? It's all he can do not to roundly curse. (Everyone outside seems to be doing it for him, after all.)

The figure in white begins to make her way to the stairs and up, and just behind her with near silent footfalls, there's a telltale 'click', the sound of a hammer being pulled back. "Don't do it. My mark," is whispered. "The place is goin' up and I'm taking the broad." The voice should sound somewhat familiar to her… probably not her last firefight, or the one before the last… but in the top five, maybe?


Right, then! Two things learned here:

1 - Logan is not as quick as Domino was counting on, and


With that soft little *click* of a drawn hammer she stops short, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. She DOES know that voice… Instinct suggest a -slow- turn toward Barney would be the right way to handle this situation but she's kind of on the clock here, the two homeowners are going to be here any second, possibly with one of them being armed, and her pale white ass is stuck in the stairwell.

Not cool!

"But I'm already up here, and I'm still not seeing your name anywhere."

Go on. Shoot her in the back! She still has an ace up her sleeve. All she really has to do is keep him distracted long enough for Logan to come up behind him. Right around that point in time, she's back on the move. There's excited movement upstairs, the window's getting -way- damn small!


Logan can hear the voices inside, his enhanced hearing making their dialogue clear as day. He makes his way in, figuring now that stealth -is- called for, heading towards the stairs and starting to make up towards Barney's position, creeping low and with his claws out already, his keen eyes letting him see almots clearly even in the dark.


First.. Raven reaches into his back pocket to pull out a pack of cloves, popping one into his mouth and lighting it. Since they all were inside, he might as well enjoy himself with blasting his lungs with some of that foreign goodness. With a bite upon the butt of the clove, he leans down, grey eye into the scope and.. you know what?

Let's just give it a shot, shall we?


The first bullet shatters the lower window of where Logan had entered. Raven ejects the empty cartridge and quickly loads the next.


Second same window. That'll get someones attention.



Upper window takes a through and through out the other side.

It was almost like childs play, one would even assume that they'd hear a laugh or two but Raven remains silent. Pushing through bullets by the second without a care in the world. And really, if Domino was hit, maybe she shouldn't be in the Brotherhood!


The two homeowners wouldn't have 'been there soon' if the door hadn't been kicked in! And, well.. the idea that the guy may have a shotgun wasn't a concern- UNTIL NOW.

"Don't do it," Barney whispers. Still, she's headed up the stairs, and he's got that damned rule, 'no women, no children', and as she moves, he makes a grab for her legs rather than shooting her in the back. With a grab, all he wants to do is drag her white ass down the stairs and with any luck, pull a zip tie so he can get back on to what he needs to do. With a time-limit now, thank you.

Whether or not he's successful there, the fact that he moves the moment one of the bullets comes whizzing in (after glass shattering!) is one of the few things that has just saved his life.

"What the hell?!"

Okay, Barney's had about enough of it, and while recovery is slow (story of his life!), he's regaining his footing.

There is definitely movement upstairs now, footsteps and the clicking of a phone as a furtive whisper, "Hello, operator? Operator? Hello, operator?" Phone lines are down…


There's a sound which Domino will never, ever forget. Suppression of a high velocity rifle cartridge striking plate glass. It would sure give her a reason to duck low while charging the rest of the way up those stairs (Do Not Kill Her Target Dammit!!) if not for something (some-one-) suddenly latching onto her ANKLE.


This isn't her first rodeo. Palms catch her rapid descent before her face can break her fall, then she's immediately twisting around onto her side to both look down at Barney and to try and line up her boot with his head.

And there's Logan standing there, claws out. It's really inspiring and all, but…

"-Do Something!-" she blurts out at Logan. This place is rigged to burn, someone's -shooting at them from outside,- the targets are both wide the hell awake and she can't even make it up the goddamn stairs!

..Wait a second. Those shots from outside are spaced out and hitting windows. Another distraction, or a really bad shot..? They aren't working with Barney, not with how he reacted to them.

Either way, Dom's getting free of Barney's grasp. Maybe he can't shoot women but SHE can shoot MEN. -He will let go.- Then she will rush right up those stairs and kick the husband -right to the floor.- She's got a pair of handcuffs, too. Taken right from a police station when she had been locked in interrogation. They're only slightly bloody. They still work fine.


Logan snarls at Domino, "Sorry, thought I was workin' with a pro. Didn't realize you'd get the drop on ya ten seconds into the place," he says.

And, with that, he turns and leaves her to it. He'll go chase down the sniper and she and the firefly can wrestle it out amongst themselves. He didn't show up to get shit on for not reading her damn mind.

Anyway, he was curious about just where those bullets came from - and he could take a few shots if he had to as he breaks from the door and sprints in the direction of the shots.


ROLL: Raven +rolls 1d50 for a result of: 6


One shot.
Two shots.
Three shots.

This brings her back, back in the days when she participated in the train robbery of 1922. She took the highest perch in the desert and began to shoot, while her comrades rained down hell upon horses and their own rifles until it was boarded. There was a stand still, not -too- much killing. But a girl totally got messy that day.


Though, the last bullet of the hour was picked and loaded into the chamber, his body swinging with accuracy to aim down Logan through the sights.


It cuts through the air with a whistle, and if the old man still had his wits about him? It'd probably miss. Poor fucker was hard to kill, Raven himself? (Or herself, if anyones slightly keeping track) Just may be even harder.

But he moves swift, rifle discarded (no prints!) and bag picked and hitched up upon his back as he begins to skirt and hop down the side of the mound that was his perch to try to get to the side of the house. Just what in the world were they doing, anyways?


Barney goes get the boot to the face and he whoofs out a bit of air in the impact. It isn't quite as bad to the point of re-breaking his nose, but he's seeing stars regardless. He goes down, but he's doing the four-limbed crawl up and after Domino.

The voice behind Barney, however… that does catch his attention, and he whips his head around in time to see Logan stalking out, leaving his spot from behind him. Someone is watching over him tonight, which is a damned sight different than usual. Now!

Making it to the top of the stair, there's a small explosion from inside the house, the kitchen to be exact. Gas main.

Rigged to blow.

Barney's ready to push past Domino now to make a grab for the wife who is still behind closed doors with the husband, and there comes another damned bullet into the window.

It's going to get damned hot downstairs in the next few seconds…


"I didn'tWAITyou—mother-fucker,-" Domino hisses as Logan up and walks out on her. She wasn't expecting a mind-reader, but not having to gun down Barney before they had their little 'chat' would have been nice!

Ignore the sniper fire, ignore the fact that this place is about to go up in a ball of fire. When she reaches the husband it's so very easy to channel all of her frustration into one nasty left hook, not quite knocking him out cold but stunning the shit out of him long enough to get his arms secured behind him.

Then there's Barney. Right there. Going for the wife. With Logan's sarcasm still ringing true in her ears. To think that the lonely old coot in the woods would suggest that she isn't a goddamn professional…

She could just shoot Barney. Right here, right now. One and done. Instead she stands there, blocking the bedroom doorway. Staring -right at Barney- as one of her arms reaches out at length, at an angle a little ways behind her.


The lady of the manor isn't screaming anymore.

With her best 'fuck you, too' expression she goes to shoulder her way past the newer Agent, at least with the older man in her custody. The one gun stays out, trained on Barney lest he try for another shot at her…


Logan ducks just enough, the bullet creasing his hairline, drawing blood and bouncing off his adamantium skull, enough to rattle him for a moment - but only a moment. He shakes his head clear of cobwebs, hearing the scuffle on the inside and ignoring it for the moment. Chick could handle herself, she said, and it wasn't his fight anyway.

He runs up on Raven's shooter's nest and, while she leaves no prints, she leaves plenty of scent. He smirks and cocks his head, following the scent trail she leaves behind as he goes in hot pursuit, eager to find out just why his old friend decided to take a futile potshot at him tonight.


ROLL: Raven +rolls 1d50 for a result of: 43



The closer he got the more that he could smell it. He takes one more hit of the clove and tosses it far to the side, the burning ember stuck within the fallen leaves upon the grass. Thankfully, the dew put it out, but there was still a chance it would burn either way with what he assumes would happen.

He then takes a knee, swinging the bag from his shoulder to plop down upon the ground. Many small tools of the trades were inside, but Raven was aiming for something smaller. There was a quick dig, and just before Logan had a chance to corner him, he whips upright, both hands coming together to snatch a pin from the grenade that he now carries.

And ever so nonchalantly, tosses it in Logan's direction with pinpoint accuracy. (She aimed to pop him in the chest. Not lethal, just showy.)

"You remember this, right?" He says, wiggling the pinched grenade within his fingers. "I say something snarky, you growl and show your claws. I threaten you, you threaten me, I blow up something and get away. But, before we do all that. Answer me just this -one- thing."

He pauses, taking a slight step aside, if there were to be a blast, he'd want to be out of the way of flying debris. Though, he'd have to run just to do that. And there was no time.

"What are you doing with Domino?"


Barney would laugh at the situation, more in relief that he wasn't shot in the back by the guy who just left, but he doesn't laugh during a mission. He's deadly earnest, and keeping his head down, he's ready to take the wife with him… when she's shot and killed even as he's dragging her out.

Barney had seen the pistol rise, and blue eyes stare down at the albino, and when the trigger is pulled, his own gun reports, getting a headshot in on the guy. Sheer and unadulterated SPITE. "Why the hell did you do that!?" The pistol wheels around to point at Domino when,





There is an explosion that comes from the kitchen, up through the back bedroom, sending Barney flying towards the stairwell and tumbling down.


Unfortunately, Dom can't say that this is going according to plan. It isn't even going -well.- There are reasons why she likes to work alone, dammitall! It was supposed to be a stupidly simple op, a way to test Logan out, see if he would stick around for the ride, maybe even become somebody that she could rely on down the road…

Too many goddamn wildcards. Like the one that just SHOT..HER..TARGET.

The man instantly becomes dead weight at her side. Dead weight which is promptly shoved aside, landing in a bloodied heap upon the floor. What follows is a look she used to reserve for none other than her commanding officer, a look of such -absolute- rage and hatred that it should come as no surprise to Barney that after one tenth of a second..she shoots him next.

She's about to empty the mag on the guy when an explosion blasts the two away from one another. Barney probably got lucky being thrown down the stairs. She doesn't have a shot anymore.

With the bedroom window already shattered (thank you, Raven!) she leaps toward it and shoulders her way through, rolling out across the shingled roof then springing down into the cool wet lawn with a forward roll. She can curse Barney's name until she's as blue as an unmorphed Raven later, now all she has time to do is run the hell away from the burning house!

She just might happen to come across Logan and morphed Raven mid-chat, too.


Logan doesn't even flinch at the explosion in the distance. He'd expected as much, hearing the scuffling and the gunshots. Fired guns and accelerants don't mix.

"I really ain't in the mood tonight, darlin'. She's just an acquaintance. Think she might've been sweet on me. Doubt she is now," he shrugs.

"What's your beef with her? Or you just in the habit o' shootin' at random folks for shits an' giggles?"


ROLL: Raven +rolls 1d50 for a result of: 50


Yeah, the blast doesn't do much for Logan but it does something for Raven. His ears were already ringing, arm lifting to shield himself from the blast that cuts into his coat and right into the side of him. And shockingly enough. There was no flinch. Only a reach down and a tug outward, which could be a horribly bad thing, but this was Raven. She survived two years in the Hellmouth, ate slugs and possibly did shit that she wouldn't dare recount with a soul.

"Hm." The man grunts out, still holding the grenade high, gaze looking up towards it and with a shrug, he turns. Once.. twice.. and a -clear- chuck in the direction of the manor that was already on fire. Why waste a good thing, amirite?


As if it were the answer to all of the things that Raven does. As if it were the answers to the universe. Raven kicks up what little bit of waning strength that he does have to turn down into the foresty cover to get upon his own bike to speed away if he wasn't stopped. Maybe pick up some hot chick while he's at it.

Those muscles hadn't been flexed in a very, very long time.


There is that hesitation, the proof in the pudding as it were that he simply has a hard time killing women. He can't do it. If he shoots, he does it to kill, and that puts him at a distinct disadvantage at this moment. Domino gets her shot off and it throws him backwards, only to have the explosion send him flying forward and down the stairs. He can feel the heat coming from the kitchen, and there he is in the entryway, lying on his back, bleeding from the -right- side of his chest. Suddenly breathing is just a little harder, and he's seeing stars.

There is a secondary explosion now, and the place roars into flames, the back engulfed, and trailing around the sides, thanks to Barney's careful ministrations outside. Smoke is starting, black and sooty as it curls up, ready to do as much damage as the heat and the fire itself.

With a groan, Barney rolls over and gets to hands and knees, coughing, and having blood come up again.. this time from his lungs rather than his sinusses. He has to grab onto a front table, and there… there on an envelope, the electric bill, is the address: 142 Woodmere.

Oh… crap.


Blowing up a house by burning it to the ground is something Domino understands. The physics behind it, the cause and effect, even what's considered a safe distance from the blast radius. She had plenty of time and plenty of distance. No problems at all.

A grenade is another story. She never saw it, never knew it was there, and never even knew that's what the last bang was until she's feeling a pinpoint red hot burn from several points across the left side of her body. Shrapnel pass-through.

There's nothing voluntary of the grunt which immediately follows being peppered with slivers of glowing hot steel. She stumbles, sets her jaw, keeps pushing forward. Find the van. Get to the van. And Logan…

What the hell is she going to do about Logan? She kept him in the dark with half of the details of this op, bossed around someone she's never worked with before, and probably made a complete fool of herself tonight. Somehow yelling out 'I'll call you later!' doesn't seem like the right way to handle this one. Knowing who -else- lives at the cabin with him, showing up at the front door is also probably not the right course of action.

If she's going to find him, now's the time. One last chance to try and salvage what could have been ..hell. Could have been -something.- She's not even sure what. Just—if she doesn't try, just this once, she may never forgive herself.

Then again, maybe she's just blindly reaching out for something after having lost all of her carefully laid out plans because a fucking lockpick broke.


Logan doesn't chase after Raven - he can find her again easily enough and she doesn't seem to be in much of a mood to provide answers tonight. She was like that sometimes. Maybe it came with being a shapeshifter, that cat-like urge to be vague and mysterious.


He turns back in time to see Domino stumbling and obviously wounded, running up to her and slipping his shoulder under her arm, "C'mon, darlin', let's get you to a medic," he says. "I hear there's a free clinic down Hell's Kitchen, no questions asked," he said.

"Next time, maybe you should gimme a plan, rather'n just have us run in blind, huh?" he says, getting her to the van and sliding open the backdoor, getting her inside before he gets behind the wheel. If there's no key evident, he'll just hotwire the thing. He quickly opens up the back and tosses his motorcycle in, too, before they take off.


"Goddammit.. motherfucking son of a bitch!" Barney wheezes. He manages to pull himself out side, and clear, mostly, of the burning house. He'll have the moral equivalent of sunburn after this. And, in a few minutes, he's sure that he'll be able to catch the sounds of sirens. Or it could be his ears ringing with the sounds of noisy flames.

Regardless, Barney has to pick himself up and stagger towards the roadway and down in order to get at his motorcycle. Exactly how far does he think he'll make it? Who knows… but he sure as hell isn't going to wait around for the police and the fire department!


Maybe it's another divine act which gives the albino a second chance tonight. Logan's there, even willing to help Domino out after this big mess. There's actually a sense of relief in the battered white killer, though she keeps that a secret as well. Habits like this, they're not easily broken. Just ask Raven!

Free hospital… "Yeah, I know the one," she says through her teeth while settling into the passenger seat. "They're coming to know me pretty well around there."

Now the question in her mind is whether she's going to have to spill the beans and completely level with Logan over this if they're going to stay drinking pals or not. Though, rather than outright ask him whether that's the case or not she spies something then reaches over to quickly roll the window down. "Hang on just a sec."

From the side of the van one very -white- arm comes out. At the end of it is one very -black- gun.


The front end of Barney's bike sinks a few inches closer to the ground, the front tire completely shot out.

She leans her head out of the window long enough to yell out "Walk THAT one off, fucker!" Then she's back inside, rolling up the window as if nothing were amiss. "Take a left two blocks down, it'll get us right to the highway."


Logan laughs at the petty act of vengeance and peels out, "C'mon, we'll get you patched up and see if you can pound down a few brews without springing any leaks. Then maybe, just maybe, you can explain to me what this whole meshugga was all about. Don't fudge too many details, neither - I got a good sniffer for pickin' up a fib," he says.



Some bluesy backwater joint is playing the jams! Guitars, a drummer beating his drums to the tune of the beat. Saxaphones and trumpets are all ago. And there was Raven. A little pale, worse for wear, still wearing that nice little man-skin she's cooked up for herself with a glass of whiskey in front of her on the rocks. He was all bandaged up, the rapid-fire healing in effect, though slowed just a touch due to his current drink. He takes a sip, letting out a little hiss that shows bright white teeth in a grimace. The glass was soon put down and discarded upon the table, as a nice pair of legs soon come into view to stand in front of him, holding a tray.

'Ready for seconds, shug?' The nice lookin' woman asks, and for a clear moment, Raven looked as if he were about to take her up on the offer, and then some. But instead, the back of the head of a man became his primary focus.

"Excuse me." He says, rising from the chair with a grunt, hand pressed against the wound that he fixed himself. With a straighten and roll of his shoulders, he approaches the man, slipping to his side just to make sure he is.. who he was.

'You got a problem, asshole?' The man snaps out.

"I did." With a snap out of his arm, he curls it around the mans neck, bending him back far enough to..


-That- one was going to sting. And the Brotherhood is going to pay.. (eventually!)


Barney struggles down the side of the road, walking into the woods along the side when he catches sight of headlights or emergency lights. He's got a hand covering his wound over the right-hand side of his chest, and he can hear the slightest sound of bubbling..

Relief floods his manner as he moves to take hold of his bike until he realizes… and he stares at it, uncomprehendingly. One blink.. two.. before his shoulders sink and he has to start walking again. It's a long trip to NYC… and he looks and feels like hell. (Maybe a truck will run him over and he'll feel better?)


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