1963-11-13 - Neena Thurman
Summary: Jean, well meaning as she is, tries to understand/help Domino and Logan's relationship.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
domino jean logan 

'Are you really going to do this?' The woman asks. (Phoenix, of course.)
"Well, why not? I'm sure if I bring a guy around, he'll shake him down too."
'You understand what a colossal bad idea this is.'
"Not a bad idea."
'Open the door then, you'll need guidance.'
"Just this once.."

Cosmic conversations!


While Logan was sleeping, Jean pried into the torrential mind of Logan, filled with bad and broken dreams of death and mayhem. It's a wonder how he's able to sleep, but the landscape itself was changed into something a little bit more peaceful so that the job itself could get done.

It was rolling hills with the greenest grass that anyone could ever dream of. Hues of purple, red, and orange litter the sky. The cabin, very much like this one, was filled with laughter. Friends. Friends with no faces all surrounded by a long table with Logan at the helm. Everyone was getting along, telling war stories and their travels, bountiful food. There was nothing but calmness in the air.. and once the dream was settled into realization she moves on and begins to pry. To pick and pry. To pick and pry.

To pick and pry.

It took a long time to sort through the bullshit, and once she was done, she moves towards the phone upon the corner, settling down upon the couch to take her own slumber. She waits. Waits until Gabriel wanders outside to do what he will, waits until she hears the roar of the motorcycle as Logan goes off to do whatever. And once their minds were out of her range, she picks up the phone and dials.

If there was a voice upon the other end, she'd whisper quietly.

"Please.. help! It's.. Logan." She coughs hard into the phone, even goes so far as to pinch herself to the point of bleeding so that she could draw tears. "He's hurt! HELP! SOMEONES HERE!" And then she hangs up. While her range wasn't great, she'd wait until a foreign mind comes into the range of the mansion. And the suggestion would be placed.

Hop the wall.
Avoid the main entrance.
Take the long route to the back.
Avoid being seen.
They're everywhere!

And now, she waits. With nothing to do, and a little bit nervous at the prospect, she gets up and begins to cook. Probably humming some old bluesy song she managed to catch from Logan's mind.


This is a first. A couple of firsts! No one's ever -called- Domino before. Like..on the phone. Like, actually knowing -how to find her.- Is this what normal people do..? Is this what it's like to 'have a life?' Does it also involve having to drop everything to make a long and brisk journey out into the unknown in order to help someone she happens to know?

'Friend' might be a bit of a stretch at this point, but -dammitall- if there isn't something about the situation and the voice on the other end of the phone which sends her packing. (Pun!)

It's an unfamiliar but blessedly uneventful drive. It's strictly a force of habit which causes her to park even further away from the wall in question, though once she manages to scale it the sheer amount of distance left to cover becomes apparent. Even -finding- the cabin is easier said than done, Logan sure liked his privacy and she couldn't really fault him for it.

The part about 'they' being everywhere is cause for concern as well. A lot of distance to cover in an unknown direction to an unknown location while being up against an unknown number of unknown opponents… Oh, and also hurry your ass up before it's too late! All from an unknown person on the phone. To say the albino is stressing out some over this mess would be an understatement, but here she is on school grounds with a Colt 1908 in each hand and two itchy trigger fingers.

What's the threat? WHERE'S the threat? It's too damn quiet…

The third instruction, the long route to the back, is what helps lead her toward the cabin. Jean will probably pick out the troubled mind well before Dom reaches Logan's home, once more avoiding the front entrance and instead trying to get in close enough to catch a glimpse through the windows. STILL no threat. Maybe they're inside?

Something isn't adding up. Like..several somethings.

If she can't see anything from outside then she'll sneak on inside. Through any other route than the front door, given the opportunity.


Eggs! Bacon and eggs! What would happen if she puts cheese on the eggs? Hmm. Oh, and biscuits. Her second time trying to do it didn't work as well as the first, but hey! At least she's eating! And then cleaning. Washing the dishes. Wrapping food up for when the boys get back. Maybe even saving a plate for Domino when she gets here.. depending. Depending..

Alarms were set off in her head, her gaze lifting, her eyes soon closing as she searches out and tries to pinpoint exactly where Domino is. She was close, but not close enough. Jean jumps into action, thankfully with her TK she could clean and mess up the room again as she pleases. Logan's favorite chair was turned over, the bedroll thrown against the wall. Dishes were taken out and upturned upon the floor. Add ketchup! Turn this table over here.. good.

Papers! Throw the papers around! More ketchup! Is that a bowl? Roll it around a bit so that it could fall where it may!

Jean looks around, her hands shaking out of mild panic, pacing the floor quickly as she grips her hair in between her fingers, bouncing.. and..

Close! Domino was here! It was a tiny manipulation. A small tickle right upon the back of Domino's neck!

For when Domino looks into the cabin itself, she'll see a mess! There was blood everywhere (read: Ketchup), clear signs of a struggle, the clawed marks of Logan's blades planted into the wood that made up the wall. Furniture was busted and broken in half, papers were ruined and tossed everywhere, some shredded. Some not. And the most terrible?

Logan himself. On the floor. Face down, a large hole in the middle of his back which was left steaming in the cool, crisp air. His claws were out, yes. And there was a grasp of something in his hand that clearly had Domino's name upon it. Was it a setup? Yes.

But how can anyone ignore this hunk of man meat who was possibly dying upon the floor? She'd see nothing else.

(Meanwhile: Jean was hiding behind a curtain. So dumb. Yet so invisible.)


ROLL: Domino +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 98


Confusion. So many conflicting thoughts and emotions. Couldn't Logan heal..? He had been a soldier, is this his past coming back to haunt him? Is it -her- past catching up to her..? Did they finally track her down? Is it a setup? -How- could it be a setup, she covered her tracks better than that! Even then she -shouldn't care- so much, she doesn't know this guy, there's no real connection between the two, getting attached to ANYone just becomes one giant liability, and—

And she just..can't..turn around and walk the hell away… 'Compromised' is the word. It's not the first time she's placed the label upon herself.

The door quietly unlatches then silently flies open with just a soft 'wuff' of displaced air, barely fluttering the papers strewn about as the monochromed killer sweeps into the room with arms held outward, each questing for a target or a threat. She works quickly and quietly, dancing around the debris while checking out every corner of the cabin—

Feet. Maybe Jean thought she could hide (behind a CURTAN, who DOES that?!) but she thought wrong. She may notice a shadow coming closer. She would definitely feel something solid pressing the curtain closer to her forehead if she doesn't move first. From the other side the albino's attempting to pin the lurker behind the curtain to the wall with the business end of a pistol, not bothering to see who's on the other side. Not really caring, either!

"Would have been better off in the rafters, asshole."

(And why the fuck does it smell like tomato in here?)


Quiet. Domino was quiet. Jean silently wishes she could be that quiet when on a mission. Though she hasn't been on missions that required quiet or many missions at all. But she could see her through the curtain, does that mean Domino can see.. yep. She can see her.

There were many scenarios playing through her mind at that moment. Would she shoot her? Probably. Would she kill her? Maybe! Should she jump out of her hiding spot and 'oogabooga' her to death and get shot? No!

'Now you're just toying with her.' The bird says..

"Well shit." Jean finally murmurs as she feels the cold steel pressed to her head. "I should have thought about that. But I can't fly very well." Her hand slowly curls, her palm upward, her fingers gesturing with the attempt to snatch the gun from her hand. It all was an attempt, she couldn't see -well- but she could feel!


ROLL: Jean +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 1


That's one of the problems about curtains, they make it very difficult to work around. It's heavier than a regular sheet and supported higher up. Trying to quickly grab something -through- a curtain doesn't work so well. As poor Jean is about to discover.

The gun is gone, though not because Little Red managed to grab it. It's gone because Domino is yanking the curtain aside to reveal the person hiding behind. She's seen Jean before. Logan even admitted that they were sharing space together. But what -Dom- saw of Jean that one twisted night did not paint her in favorable colors!

That's why she suddenly grabs the other lady and boldly throws her out into the room. It's already a complete mess in here, it's not like she's going to make it a whole lot worse!

Barely any time is granted for Jean to lose her momentum when the angry ghost is right back on top of her, trying to pin her to the floor with a heavy biker boot while leveling a pistol down at her head again. "You should be -dead,- girl. I don't know what stopped the buckshot before but don't count on being so lucky a second time around. Now what the -hell- happened here?"


Jean -clearly- didn't think this one through completely! Maybe she should have been the one upon the floor, all bloodied and stuff. Though, Domino possibly would have just left her there to rot, judging by the glare that was -now- in her eyes. "Ho—.. EEK!" Jean's hands immediately raise as Domino grabs her, practically flipping her onto the floor which was a mess already. Yes, Jean was now attempting to crab crawl through ketchup and forks, at least for the upturned table so that she could drag herself to her feet.

But no time.


The boot that was planted upon her back was heavy enough to keep her from moving. The click-click of metal as the gun was aimed at her has her hands expanding and held outright as if she were reaching for the sky. Her current position? Wall. Or table.

"Maybe it was my guardian angel! Ever think about that? Huh?" She asks loudly, turning her head -juuust- enough so that she could see Domino's loom. As to what happened here?

"Look around, lady.. absolutely nothing! You fell for my trick!"

So childish! Yet true to form, everything vanishes. The claw marks within the wood, Logan's body upon the floor. The furniture, while not cracked and halved, was still upturned. SO that was a plus. Yet.. once she allows Domino to take a glance of the room, she tries to force a TK blast directly from below to knock her towards the ceiling to disorient.


ROLL: Jean +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 53


ROLL: Domino +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 95


A trick. Of COURSE it was a trick, she should have KNOWN it was a trick, how STUPID of—

There's a sudden upward -shove- from an invisible force. Unexpected! Yet not leading to the same result that Jean had been hoping for. On one hand there's no longer a pissed off biker 'bino holding a gun at the back of her head, so progress on that front. With the TK shove Domino -flips through the air- as if she had been counting on the assist all along, landing a few feet away from the psychic with nary a scratch nor sprain about her.

Physically, at least.

The room is ..perfectly normal. No 'dead' Logan. No damage, not beyond what she's managed to cause since she got here. All fake! All—

Jean was fucking around with Domino's head.

It does't take a psychic to sense the spike of anger which completely overwhelms any sort of logical or rational thought. Her expression snaps into one of a purely murderous rage as a gun is once more brought upon the redhead.

This time she isn't making a threat.



The relief of the weight upon her back has her rising. Her foot slipping against the ketchup has her stumbling head first into the table. With a quick upright jerk, her hands capture upon the wood, twisting and turning herself to catch sight of..


Like a dog just now catching sight of a squirrel and announcing his success in dog language (which, Jean could understand. Sad fact.), the gunshot blast and her poorly timed roll out of the way allows for the bullet itself to smack right into the fleshy part of the arm and avoiding bone and critical arteries in one go. It was through and through.. and more shit that Jean had to clean up to make sure that Logan doesn't know.

There was a loud 'EEK' that draws from her after the blast, her body thumping against the floor and into a roll. This lady means to kill her which.. well, she could -understand-, so subduing her would have to be her next best bet.

'Jean.' The woman says.

But like a cat and mouse game; her hand strikes out to rattle the table, which lifts.. spins hard within the air, and soon hurled towards the ghost woman as a distraction.


ROLL: Domino +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 54


ROLL: Jean +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 56


Some people might consider this a hit (Jean, in particular!) Domino isn't quite so enthusiastic. Jean's still alive, which means she -missed.- Once more she's trying to close the gap, trying to eliminate all outside variable to make absolutely certain she lands that critical shot. No sense in wildly spraying rounds everywhere, that might draw more attention than she wants!

It's when Jean yells out 'I know!' that she finds her much needed distraction. Who the frack is the girl yelling at? The albino never said anything—

Domino, table of one!

Solid wood connects with the gunner gal like a runaway pickup truck. One pistol goes flying off to the right. One pistol goes flying off to the left. The (current) owner of both pistols goes flying back across the cabin and crashes against the wall, momentarily pancaked between a table and a wall. As the flung piece of furniture falls to the ground, so too does she. Knocked the wind, and a fair amount of sense, clean out of her!

It's difficult to train against assault tables. Just so long as Jean doesn't counter that one with the kitchen counter…




The little bird begins to laugh as Jean slowly crawls to her feet, one arm snatching out, both fingers pressed together as she ushers both of the tossed away guns into the air. It was a slow move, summoning them towards her, both of the handles soon turned towards Jean as the barrel of the pistols were aimed in Domino's direction, preparing to shoot if need be.

(No she isn't! She doesn't know how guns -work-!)

Her hand lifts towards her ruined arm, her gaze drawing down sideways as she uses her fingers to pinch it shut. Precise TK, snapping the wound closed and as much as it hurt, it was something that needed to be done. "Look!" She says aloud.

"I'm not trying to kill you or anything." She did a real great job of showing that. "I mean, I don't even think you would have wanted to meet with me after that whole thing in.. whatever.."

Drawers begin to fly open as random bits of silverware that was not tossed upon the ground slowly snaps from their place, each one that could have been threatening were lifted and hovering right into the direction where Domino now lays. Forks! Their threatening prongs! Spoon! The dangerous curvature of their nature! Butter knives! Those little notches -could- hurt if done right.

And there's a wire wisk. A -wire- wisk.

"I.. know.."

That little spout of anger has her tearing the table from atop of Domino. Just so that she could see her.


It's just a little bit of blood (not -ketchup- like some people insisted upon, either!) A harsh cough sounds out just as the table starts to pull away, revealing a ticked off and somewhat hurt Domino as she fights to reinflate her lungs. Badass or not, there's just some tricks to the human body which no one can overcome. Charlie horses! Hangnails! Stubbed toes! Even the mighty fall to the lowly pinkie bend.

When next she looks Jean's way it isn't a pair of blazing eyes she sees, it's the barrels of her own pistols. Just sorta floating there. It's only a small comfort that Jean doesn't know how they work (grip safety on those ones!) but the amassed army of culinary utensils remains a legitimate concern. Those..don't have mechanical safeties to worry about.

Also there's the whole matter of the -entire freaking cabin- suddenly seeming to be working against her. She'd gladly trade those two Colts for some gasoline and a match!

The lone wisk is given a strange stare just as she pulls herself up off of the floor. It's the same look she pins Jean with a second later. Okay, this is really starting to drive her crazy now.

"You know -what?-" she sort of wheezes. Seriously, which is the crazier lady here!


ROLL: Jean +rolls 1d50 for a result of: 28


-Someone- likes fire a lot! Jean likes fire too! She can create it, manipulat—.. oh. Lets avoid the Bubba Gump-esque diatribe, shall we!

But Jean was tired, physically thankfully, not mentally. There was a thought to seriously thinking of doing more cardio, now that Central Park was somewhat safe for her to travel in. But with a slight bend in her posture, she gives Domino the most insufferable look ever.

"I know what? Huh?" She asks, a moment of clear insanity passing over her. (Not really.) "Oh right. I know."

She takes a step forward, the contents of the cabin and those two colts following after, her good hand lifting to gesture towards a chair that soon begins to slide towards Domino's way. See? Jean was nice.


It was like a crawl, fingers on the brain, checking the electrical synapses to shut particulars down to try to make her fall asleep. Or squirrel her brain. Which ever! At least Domino will have a cushy fall when she goes down..


Not sure whether to be pissed off or puzzled… That 'I want to rip your face off' expression tries to stay its course but Domino's finding this more difficult to manage by the second. "That doesn't answer the question."

When the single word of command is given her confusion draws ever closer to the surface of her hardened features. "Fuck that!" she quickly replies, as if it's nothing more than a simple request!

She's still trying to understand why Jean would have said such a ridiculous thing (again) when something..doesn't..quite feel right… The approach is unfamiliar but the result is something she's way too used to, like the hold of a sedative or the velvety touch of anesthesia.

Somehow she only bristles further, the reaction within her mind a swift and powerful one for someone who hasn't had any proper training in anything psychic. It's similar to sweeping an arm across a dresser and boldly throwing everything to the floor as she attempts to rip Jean's hold free, to destroy those feelings of systems being powered down on her. She isn't trained, but her willpower is intense.

Willpower alone is also not enough to keep a psychic out forever. There's one last ditch thought of charging forward, weapons and silverware be damned. Push past it all, go for the throat, silence all life from the redheaded bitc—

The rock-hard edges of her expression suddenly relax, cold blue eyes flickering then rolling backward in tune to her rolling back into the awaiting chair. Maybe if she would have acted sooner? Maybe she never stood a chance.

What's left for Jean to step into is darkness. Not evil, not wickedness, just..nothing. A cold dark place merely because there is nothing there to fill it in. Her memories have all been buried, that willpower trying to forget about the past. They're still lurking, waiting to be uncovered, but she's done a very good job of hiding them from herself.


That was something she wasn't used to. Darkness. But the hot press of a hand upon her shoulder guides her through.

"Domino." Jean calls out, looking through the darkness, one hand drawn up to allow fire to be summoned to provide a little bit of light within the cold space.

"Phoenix?" She calls out, twisting this way and that, the hot press intense upon her shoulder as she finally looks back behind herself. "What would happen if I redesign? If I lighten this, make paths within her mind.."

'The mind is a tricky thing. You could either kill her, or heal her.'

Jean grimaces faintly, then murmurs. "She's clearly blocking something. Not from me.. but.."

'You're doing this for Logan.'

"Yeah, he's our dad. We care."

'You're selfish.'


'Whatever makes you happy.'

Jean ceases conversation then and there, strolling forward into the darkness, her arm lifting higher and higher. "Come out, Domino! I know you're in here! Don't make me come looking!"


Off to the psychic intruder's side is a spoken "I'm here" as Domino's physical representation 'steps forward' out of the deeper shadows. "But you shouldn't be. You and that weird friend of yours. Haven't you all done enough damage to me already?" she asks in an almost casual tone. There has to be something more at play here, Jean and the Phoenix only just got here. No damage has been done so far.

"You want to push me around, subject me to tests, fuck with my perception, beat me down, I can't stop that. God knows I've tried. But now you're going to start poking around into the last piece left for me to call my own?!"

Much like the confusion with Jean speaking to the unseen Phoenix before, now it would seem that the situation has reversed itself. Dom's almost looking right through Jean when the accusations are made. The guards, the defenses, they aren't there because of Jean.

She's hiding from something else. More than that, she's -afraid- of something else. Afraid enough that even the psychic representation of herself would sooner take her own life than have to face it again.


Domino's emergence draws out a protective nature for Jean. Beneath her very feet, where she walks within the darkness, a fiery manifestation Jean appears. A mirror image wrapped in danger. It would follow her every move, mimic every gesture. But it would only act when need be.

"You need to understand something Domino, I'm not doing this to push you around and to bully you. You're a person who is involving themselves with 'someone' that matters to me! Surely this is a fucked up way to go about it but I see no other choice!"

Though naturally she does. There are other choices, but now she was curious. Curious as to what Domino had to hide, curious as to 'why' she reached out to Logan, even though it was her own doing. But maybe, just maybe things didn't add up. Maybe Jean wanted to test herself in the mind of another..

…or maybe Jean was just a redheaded bully in sheeps clothing.

But either way, something inside of her cares. Wanted to fix Domino. Wanted to see what made her tick. So with an approach, calm as ever, her hand reaches out towards the woman as she offers up a warm smile. "Let's let bygones be bygones for now. I hurt you. You hurt me. But here?" She glances around. "I can protect you. Let's do this together."


Jean's voice serves two purposes for Domino. It both helps focus her attention and -keep- it focused, a psychic foundation not all that different from the fiery mirage which Jean creates. It would be easy to write this off as another 'trip,' another delusion sparked by gods know what. Considering this as being -real- and the present reality is a difficult concept to grasp. Like shaking a feeble mind out of an old war flashback Domino sort of flicks her head to the side, blinks, then looks -at- Jean.

"I don't want you here. -I- don't want to be here. My memories aren't your business. You really want to know about Logan then -fine,- let's talk about Logan." Maybe she can deflect Jean's focus, keep her from digging around…

There aren't any visual aids as she starts explaining the situation. "I put the paper on the wall, I threw a dart at it, I hit his ad. The one that -you- published without him knowing about it. So, thanks for helping make an awkward situation even more so. But you know what, he's turning out to be a halfway decent guy! Maybe I want a taste of what it's like to have a normal life. Maybe I just want a drinking pal. I hear that whole 'social bonding' thing isn't so bad."

Naturally she's leaving a lot of details out of her words, but in here they're both a lot closer to the thoughts even if they aren't given words. One of these thoughts is when she had first met Logan, the guy actually called her 'darlin.' It's a silly thing, maybe even stupidly simple. He probably says that to all of the ladies. All the same, it was something entirely new to her. No one's ever said something quite like that to her.

With this one masked thought two more elements can be uncovered. One, it had felt..nice. A pleasant change of pace. Two, she is a -damn- lonely soul.


"Well, I'm here now, and so are you. Deal."

Jean was a pure asshole. But that doesn't stop her from listening, in fact, the way that she actually picked Logan out of a line-up actually made her smile. They were starting off to a good dialogue, but the presence of feelings has her own arms drawn around her. She resonates with her, but yet she still reaches through to grasp her hand, only to tug her along the dark and beaten path that wouldn't be traveled.

"The thing is, there's nothing normal about Logan. Nor you. And, it's something I've really wanted for him ever since I met him."

As they walked, Domino could see the scene played upon the backdrop of black; Jean breaking the doors down in a mental asylum to see Logan bloodied and strapped to a table that he couldn't really get out of. It wasn't quick, but it was there. And there was a lingering feeling of pain and loneliness from the both of them, and a willingness to help each other out of a bad spot. Her focus, kind of diverted. Domino was still the key here.

"Deep down, you and I know, as well as Logan that we're going to meet a hard end. There's nothing pleasant for us over the rainbow."

The fire figure beneath their feet chimes in.

'Or in the stars.'

Jean looks down as she walks, then up towards Dom yet again. "I don't know what's going to happen to you two. I don't even know if you're meant for each other. But he needs someone other than me. Maybe that could be you til both of your very ends. In fact.. its something that I wish for." She looks out into the darkness, suddenly stopping in her spot. "Tell me who you are." Her hand lifts as the world around them begins to tremble. There was a block in front of them, threatening to break.

"Maybe I could love you too before I'm gone."


The snort of response really hints at things being off to a grand start! Though, it takes an asshole to deal with an asshole. Someone who was gentle and careful would never make it through this dark void. They would stay right here alongside Domino until one or both of them had been driven to insanity. Given that she chooses to live like this, her odds would be looking better than that of any softer of a soul's.

Logan may not appreciate having his past put on display here. It's exactly the sort of thing she needs to see. Where she had been (reluctantly) walking alongside Jean she suddenly stops cold, staring at the hazy images of what the man had been put through. Witnessing the scene draws forth a whole new range of long-since buried emotions, like the dead rising from their graves and clawing through so much dirt back to the moon-lit sky.

The end result is summed up in one whispered word, "Jeezus…"

When she next looks to Jean the edge is completely gone, revealing a vulnerability which hadn't been seen by anyone else in a very long time. "You might break me first."

It begins with a hesitant motion onward from a ghostly pale hand, directed at a massive vault door which bleeds its way in from the shadows. Only a giant 'S' marks the surface, though sitting right in front of it is a small bird, alive and alert. Its feathers would have been as white as the clouds, as freshly fallen snow, if not for the bright blood covering much of the animal. The doors are very much grounded in reality, though the bird is just a metaphor which has been twisted by her own psyche.

"If that really did happen to Logan then maybe you'll understand what's inside. I don't know if anyone else would. Just—" she stops short, uncertain of what else to say. Maybe she's just trying to prolong what's coming next.

"This stays between us."


There were happier times. Though the happier times between her and Logan were few and far in between. Jean thinks about this, the display. The frown in which Logan was blasted away from her, clawing away at his own face from the memories that she happened to force to come up when he first met the entity currently beneath Jean's feet. That, too, was put upon display. The effort to comfort him, only to be rebuffed by the sheer fear of hurting Jean. And it was hard to watch.

"So you understand.." Jean murmurs quietly, but the mention of breaking is met with her hand leaving Domino's, her own reaching up to protectively grip her shoulder.

"If I break you, I'll put you back together."

'Better than before.'

Jean looks down again, and then up. Domino was the real person in control here, Jean was just a tourista, a witness to the story of Her. So as the wall that was built, dark as it was, fell. Jean slowly draws her hand away from her shoulder to take a step forward.

"It really happened. That is the only thing that I've seen, I've never thought to look to see how he ended up there or what they've done to him. When he's sleeping, I catch glimpses. Those glimpses are always filled with blood."

She looks to Domino with a frown. "It stays in between us, yes." And for now, Logan was forgotten. For as Jean herself approaches the little bird, she kneels down and offers up a hand. "It's alright, little dove.." She coos towards the bird, a soft whistle enimating from her lips. "I'm here now.."

Should the bird fly away, or should the bird land upon her hand, she'd put it upon her shoulder and stand. The final approach has her reaching the vault, her hand reaching out to press against the metal. Beneath her, the Phoenix stands in front of the darkness, her own hand pressed out, waiting. And with a close and twist of Jean's hand..

..the door trembles..

..and disintegrates with a shattering of glass.


The unspoken truth is that it's not easy to hold a secret forever. The larger the secret, the more it branches out, the more difficult it is to keep hidden. Human nature yearns for it to be free, an experience shared. No one truly wants to be alone, not forever.

"I understand," Domino confirms with an uncharacteristically soft voice. Maybe Jean understands, too. And that ethereal fiery companion of hers.

The bloodied bird seems content enough to settle upon Jean's shoulder. It may have a part left to play in all of this.

Before Dom can open the door herself (or turn around and run away from it) Jean has it removed by force. Hiding behind it is a blast of air which is, curiously, much more hot and humid than chilly. She actually explains the reason for it, thinking that a voiced narrative might help her keep her own emotions in check.

"This is the Snowbird facility, normally it's..very cold inside. What you're feeling is the first experience I had beyond these doors. Summer in the Everglades. Air was so thick I could hardly breathe."

A naked hallway of concrete and steel, progressivly heading deeper underground, eventually gives way to a massive cylindrical room with retractable vents and grungy looking skylights overhead. The room is large enough to hold banks of computers and machinery, equipment storage, even a pair of landing pads complete with helicopters. She doesn't need to mention that it's a military-operated facility.

Around the central room are different doors, locked and barred, each of the twelve having a simple number upon it. "I don't know what any of these led to. They kept projects separate any way they could. You're looking for this one," she says while motioning toward number 12. A gentle sigh is released before she translates the code, "Project December."


Where the door itself was cold, the air there after was hot. Jean's initial reaction was a watering of her eyes and a shielding of the bird that was now upon her shoulders. Her hand lifts, digging into her hair to smooth it out as she takes a deep breath. "The weather is actually kind of torturous." She says kind of quietly. "I'd burn like a fucker out here." She grins and looks back towards the white woman, but continues on this walk down memory lane.

They were like two sets of multicolored ghosts, though there was a bird and a woman made of fire beneath. All of the doors presented looked challenging enough, though as she indicates number twelve, Jean willingly approaches the door with a hand resting upon the handle.

"You're project December." It was common sense really, Domino only knows what she remembers and sees. If she didn't know what they did behind those other doors, picking her brain would be a fallacy.

With a turn of the handle and a push of the door, Jean steps inside…


The first thing beyond the door may not be identical to the way the facility in question is designed, though it is the first thought to be summoned forth. Lined up along an unforgiving wall are six black bags, their actual contents hidden but the medium itself leaving nothing to be questioned. Corpses.

"One of them," Domino quietly corrects. "The files, those associated with the project, labeled me as D-7. I never knew the first six. Maybe they never survived birth. I don't know."

She steps over to a nearby desk, retrieving a thick, worn folder which is marked with the same designation. She doesn't bother opening it up, rather she hands the whole wad of paperwork over to Jean. As soon as her hands are free she wraps her arms tightly about herself, for more than just to battle the cold.

Inside this wing is a mixture of specialized areas.

There's a lab area, complete with a dizzying array of stored chemicals, hypodermics, IV bags, fresh blood spattered upon surgical stainless tools and trays, solid restraints left open and awaiting their next assignment, and nameless doctors, surgeons, and technicians aplenty.

There's a very large training wing, complete with more typical free weights and floor mats to a secured area filled with a crazy amount of weapons for the subject to use, or to be used upon the subject.

The third section is all about containment and exposure, from a somewhat more liveable cell to some truly inhumane setups that look as though they could barely contain a person, and certainly should not be used for such. Additional rooms have been set up to simulate various climates or weather conditions from a January evening in the Arctic circle to summer in the Sahara.

The air grows much more cold upon finding the next wing, though it's less to do with the climate control and more to do with her own feelings on the matter. From the outside looking in it may not look like much. Another cylindrical room made up of nothing but bare grey concrete. There's a solid metal chair directly in the center beneath a blindingly bright light and the glint of reflection off of glass set high up within the far wall, an observation room set too far back within the shadows for the room's lone occupant to see inside of.

Domino avoids looking at any of the rooms, instead bowing her head forward and keeping her eyes closed. "Nineteen thirty-eight. They didn't tell me much but I had all the time in the world to listen. They were trying to create a specialized weapon, an infiltration unit. What they wanted isn't what they wound up getting. When the situation changed they pulled the plug, changed their focus. Every trick in the book. Sleep deprivation, starvation, torture, psychoactives, chemical experimentation, brainwashing, humiliation…" she pauses while firmly setting her jaw.

"I've heard about that 'Weapon X' project on the news. People turned into fighting machines. Those people were made for combat. I was made to be broken. They wanted to see what 'one of theirs' could handle. Test the limits, know at exactly what points their asset would fail and become a liability."


'And this is what you stay in this world for. This is what you had me put away for. Moments like these.'

The fiery hand sweeps along the landscape in front of -her-, while Jean creates the same movement to the scene in front of her. It was a binding effect that they share; where one moves, the other does. Where one takes a step back, the other follows. It was a symbiotic relationship in that regard, though Jean holds the cards forcibly, especially when it comes to picking into peoples minds.

But it was all troubling, Domino could feel that much from Jean. Troubled at the memories, a clear hesitancy at moving forward. But she was here, and the story was being told. There was no question that would be hidden from Domino in this sacred space. Jean was not /that/ skilled.

As the file was handed to Jean, there was no physical way to read it. With her own thoughts plaguing her, the words would contort and jumble into something of her own doing. Instead, the papers themselves press against her chest, and with a faint white glow, it melds right into her body to be consumed. Information travels easier this way.

And yet there was a pull with much reluctance, that she felt, into a solitary room that was meant for watching. While Domino didn't look, Jean did. But she did not force her to display the tortures that were put upon her. No. It was something that Jean herself avoided with Logan, for she herself had went through the same, if not milder act of cruelty.

"I imagine that Logan went through the same. He -is- the epitomy and embodiment of Weapon X."

'Metal in the bone. Metal in the body. And still he survives.' The being said.

"This is your bond." Jean states, her fingers pressed against the observation window, the cracks spidering out, expanding along the surface. Her eyes close, willing the figure of previous Domino into existence. "This is your strength. This is you. All of it." The cracks become louder, starting off as quiet whispers that become near deafening. "Do not be ashamed, Neena. This is your life. Unique as it is. Precious to you, as it is."

'Treasured, as it were. Own it.'

"Even if you break."


Gabriel has left.


Fire… The great cleanser. Domino wouldn't shed a single tear if this facility as a whole were to go up in flames. In fact, it's a goal which she has in mind. Even if it's the only thing she has left to live for. Revenge makes for a fantastic motivator.

She doesn't understand how a psychic link works. Could be that she never will. The pages within the folder, for one. Or how Jean absorbing it would make this experience any easier for her.

"We'll have to trade notes sometime," she says with a thin, humorless smirk. "Not sure how it is that I singled him out from all of the other personals. Maybe it was for a reason."

Plenty of other obstacles will remain. How Logan has managed to travel a path less dark after all that he had been put through, he might be a stronger person than she is. Or, perhaps she stayed this course because deep inside part of her really enjoyed it. Having the chance to spread the cruelty that the world had shown her. Freedom takes many shapes.

Richard and Veronica Garrett.

Delvec Chemical.

Many names and locations remain upon her list, a path of murder and destruction running almost as wide and deep as the facility, itself. Would it be treasuring her torment by reaching the bottom of that list, or simply adding to it..?

As it turns out, names have power. Whether etched upon steel, written upon a list, or given life as words. When Jean speaks the albino's name, the only connection she ever had to her biological mother, the walls within her mind crumble into dust.

This won't break her yet, not today… However, for the moment, Neena cries.


"It could have been fate." Jean offers up.

'It could have been me.'

Jean looks down with a slight little smirk, her head drawing a slight shake. "It's all about probability." She says, turning to lean against the reminants of the observation window. The wall that it was attached to, it provided a support that Jean needed in that moment as she regards Domino in kind. "Maybe in that moment, there was something that turned that probability into possibility. Possibility that there was someone else in the world, in this very city, just like you."

Hint hint. Mutant!


While Jean remains standing, everything else begins to fall apart. The way the cabin was created to lure Domino in, slowly begins to rework and clean itself of all debris that was left. The table, cracked as it were, flipped up upon its feet. The silverware slowly collecting itself to be dumped into the sink for washing. Towels were gathered from their place, wet with running water, scrubbing the ketchup down and from the walls and floors that it remained. Papers. All fluttering against the wind she creates, stacking up into neat little piles where the damaged ones were soon tossed away.


Jean's visage flickers as well as the Phoenix, who managed to breech the veil that she had been put in. For now, they both stand next to each other, both figments moving closer towards Domino as she cries, both of them drawing their arms around her in an epic group hug to end all hugs. Even whilst she still has the birdie upon her shoulders.

"I'm sorry for everything we've tried to do to you."


Logan can hear the tears from outside, as well as identify the scents. Beyond that, he knows nothing. He's been out on a hike, exploring the wilderness primeval around the place and generally getting a little breathing room from all the damn civilization that keeps showing up at his door.

He opens up his cabin and steps inside carefully, looking at the two women in embrace. His hair is tousled, wearing a fleece jacket and carrying a backpack that he sets down with a bit of a grunt.

"I ain't even sure I wanna know. Check that, I'm definitely sure I don't wanna know," he says, heading towards the fridge, "But I do know this: whatever it is, beer's gonna make it at leasts a little bit better."


In the real world Domino might appear to be asleep in a chair (which is -definitely- out of its normal position in the room) but the emotions felt on the inside easily manifest into the physical realm. So..yeah. She's really crying. There's probably the scent of blood in the air, too. And ketchup. Mostly ketchup.


It seems somewhat odd for Jean (and the Phoenix!) to be apologizing. Dom's the one that threw -her- across the room, shot her in the arm, and very nearly killed on a couple of occasions! Now she's the vulnerable one, the scared girl awkwardly trying to hide behind the curtain. Jean now knows enough without knowing -too- much. Many of the specifics remain buried, still undisturbed. It's a small comfort for Neena. No one needs to know everything. Not even herself.

At this point an apology in return might seem a little silly, so instead she sniffs out "I'll try not to shoot you anymore." Certainly not after seeing for herself what Jean and her Firebird can accomplish. Dom would much rather take the physical pain than go through this again! Next time she happens to feel like shooting Jean, she'll probably just shoot herself instead.


Well, the current scenario was something that she really hadn't planned out. All she really wanted to do was figure out the intentions Domino had towards Logan. It wasn't all too planned out, but the basic gist of it was done, even if she happened to make a friend out of the entire ordeal.

But some good things come to an end.

Logan's re-emergence sweeps him up into the torrent of Domino's mind. His bursting through the observation door causes the entire visage to shake. The world around them, some facility far far away begins to crack. Like a hanging picture, broken glass, all falling and shattering one.. by one.. by one.. by two.. by three… by one..

Jean shields Domino from this.. the vast array of wonder and fright. Jean's own memories leaking into the foreground.

A dead child…
..a million stars..
..a war of giants looming over a planet..
..a young girl crying out for help..
..a room with four walls that trembles as that same girl begins to scream…
..a bright flashing light..
..Domino leveling a shotgun towards Jean..
..that white face.. the dark eyes..

Reality suddenly hits and crumbles before them, Jean standing as she was, draws in a gasp. Fire begins to erupt all along her body as she tries to shake it out! It was a hectic movement, patting herself down to the point a sharp pain erupts through her skull, knocking her backward and dragging her towards the wall in which she hits with a force that knocks her out -cold-.

At least the fire stops. Right?


Logan startles as he's suddenly sucked into the impossible landscape, barely able to parse what's happening. He's been in Jean's mindscapes before, but usually when she's asked and never with someone else. He finds himself disoriented, "What the flamin'—?!?" he manages before they're suddenly kicked out again.

"Jean!" he shouts, moving swiftly to try to check on his young charge, "What the hell's goin' on?"


The sudden change of mindscapes comes as suddenly and violently as shifting realities without the clutch. Brief flashes of chaotic imagery followed by a drop-kick back into reality, in a fairly literal sense in Jean's case! By comparison Domino just falls out of the chair, gasping with eyes wide. It's disorienting as hell! Where is she, what's going on, what's even REAL?!

Logan's cabin. An unconscious Jean. And..Logan.


Sleeves are usually pretty decent at mopping up tears. This is assuming, of course, that the sleeves are not made out of leather. It just kinda smears the stuff around and is anything but subtle. She just got something in her eye! BOTH of her eyes, at the exact same moment. What are the odds, right?

"Would you believe me if I told you I didn't have any fucking clue..?" she asks while sitting upright on the floor. "Because I really don't." She pauses then lamely adds "Hi, again. By the way."


Logan looks up at Domino and sighs, "Yeah, I'd believe ya. Jean has a habit o' makin' things…complicated," he says. "I dunno if she's okay or not, it's hard to tell with her," he says. He's been through a lot of ups and downs with this girl, notably the time she literally ripped his face off that one time.

"Guessin' you came out here lookin' for me, came across Jeannie and brain stuff happened?" he says, quickly making sure that Jean isn't injured beyond whatever psychic feedback she had.


Oh, man. With the question asked Dom's thoughts rewind through everything that had led up to this point. The frantic phonecall, the instructions on sneaking onto the grounds, the psychic lure of a dead Logan lying on the floor and so much fake gore and damage strewn about, all set up by Jean..all to call the albino lady out for a little 'chat.'

She scratches at the back of her neck, frowning slightly before answering Logan. "Yeah."

Nevermind the fighting and the shooting that happened in between.

She passes the unconscious Jean a glance, actually a little concerned as well. Is Little Red going to be okay? Is she going to go all Inferno again and psychically crush her? It's hard to tell, Jean's a bit of a wildcard!

"I'm sure she'll be fine." -Sniff.- "So..how..how've you been?"


Logan lifts Jean up and goes to lay her on the couch. He picks up his beer where it fell on the floor, luckily not all spilled, draining what remains and going to get another. And one for Domino while he's at it.

He hands her the bottle, "Ain't nobody blown me up lately. I consider that a win," he says. "Been havin' a lot of unexpected visitors. You're at least a nice surprise compared to the rest, not countin' the cryin' and the havoc an' shit," he says. "How'd you track me down exactly anyways?"


Jean leaves, heading towards Institute - Rear Grounds [O].


Jean has left.


In the time Logan is dealing with Jean Domino's gotten back onto her feet, suddenly feeling all sorts of out of place. Fortunately she doesn't have long to stand there looking awkward. Now she can stand there looking awkward while enjoying a -beer.- Things are looking better all the damn time.

"I hear that," she grunts while taking a long swig. "Yeah, let's..just count that as a fluke and quietly forget about it. Full moon and all. Other visitors? ..Um."

Another glance to Jean lying there gives her an excuse. She points to Jean from around the bottle in her hand. "She told me. She thinks we should be friends, you know. Said we might be good for each other."

Also the cat is out of the proverbial bag now and Jean's ability to keep secrets seems questionable at best, so… "I'm Neena. By the way."

(Own that shit!)


Logan raises an eyebrow. Real name, huh? Of course, he doesn't really understand that Logan isn't his real name. It feels right to him and that's all that matters, "Nice to meet ya again, Neena," he says, gesturing for her to take a seat wherever Jean isn't sprawled.

"Jean's got a habit o' tryin' to fix things, even when they ain't broke. It's a good impulse, but it gets her in trouble a lot. But she saved my hide from some bad shit a few times. Of course, I've done the same for her," he says.

"Don't worry about the other visitors, just…strays. Lookin' fer a place to bunk down," he says. "That school up there houses a lotta young mutants. I'm kinda like the black sheep uncle - they come to me when they wanna sip o' beer an' need somebody to tell the bad shit who ain't gonna judge 'em."


By gods, a seat shall be claimed! It's been turning into one heck of a rough night. Dom's happy to kick back and try to forget about most of it. "Yeah, she's a real firecracker. Throw herself right off a damn bridge if she thought it might do any good."

A soft chuckle follows as she looks his way. "So you're a counselor? That's adorable. Also kind of appropriate," she thinks aloud.

"Listen..about the other night. I'm not real big on sharing life stories, and that op was pretty damn personal. I don't know what that other guy was doing there. Only seen him once before, right before some group calling themselves 'Shield' busted into the joint and knocked his ass out. Considering the trouble that caused, I am highly suspicious that he'd run across me again while on a job. Those guys wouldn't have just let him back out into the wild. Don't trust him."

There's another matter to discuss here. "Any idea who was on the rifle that night? You took off for a while, next thing I know there's a goddamn -grenade- going off inside of the place and no sniper in sight. What the hell happened?"


Logan snorts, "Yeah, I managed to catch up with 'em, at least for a minute. An old ally/enemy of mine. She's got a habit of working on her own agenda. Shapeshifter. Not sure what she was doin' there exactly, but she's got a taste for chaos," he says. "She's also got a habit of throwin' grenades at me cause she knows I can take it."

"Sorry the thing got mucked up, though, if it was that personal. Sorry I lost my temper, too, I can be a bit, uh…ornery, I guess," he says, reaching up to rub the back of his head a bit. "SHIELD's a government op, usually pretty responsible. That guy seems kinda shady to be one o' theirs…" he says.


Neena very nearly spits out a mouthful of beer after those few key words are spoken. 'Own agenda.' 'Shapeshifter.'

No. Fucking. Way.

Once more her eyes start watering up, this time because some of the brew worked its way into her sinuses. She swallows hard then pinches the bridge of her nose, working through the discomfort. "Yeah," she quickly replies. "There seems to be a lot of that going around lately."

She shakes her head, frowning. "Shady as hell, but that begs the question of how he got -away- from them. His ass got beat down -hard.- Same thing with his lady friend, some nervous lookin' chick with blonde hair. I'd bet my last bullet they both got hauled into custody. There's just no way he got himself out only a week later, and if he did he would have been skipping town while keeping as small of a profile as a gnat's ass. Something isn't adding up. Just..be wary of him."

Just like she's going to have to be more wary around Raven, it would seem. This is all quickly turning into one twisted little web.


Logan snorts, "Wouldn't be the first time the government turned an enemy into an asset. YOu'd be surprised how often you hear a Russkie accent around the levers of power. Not to mention quite a few German ones," he says.

"Spies are a bunch of bitchy little girls, deep down. They're only mad at each other long as they're in a fight, but they're just as quick to change over to bein' best friends if it suits their purposes."


An absent nod is given in agreement, then immediately followed by a look of disgust. "-Way- too many damn German ones."

The mood passes easily enough with another soft chuckle. "I had been subjected to some some spy training. Long time ago. You're absolutely right. Glad to have avoided that line of duty, I've got enough reasons to be ornery."

A long sigh passes through her lungs as she looks around the room, checking over at the yet passed out Jean then coming to fall back upon Logan. This time she keeps her expression blank. For a lingering moment she says nothing at all. Instead she quietly stands then makes her way over. Taking a seat closer to Logan.

"You're a bit of a curiosity, Logan. I think I like that."


Logan grins, "We mysterious types got that goin' for us. 'course I'm a mystery to me as much as most. Some o' the shit I been through jumbled my brain enough I'm lucky I can do a crossword puzzle," he says.

He notes the shift in location, keeping his seat as he finishes his beer. "Yer pretty awright yerself, Neena. Most people I found here with Jean on the verge o' unconsciousness - well, let's just say I'd be redecoratin' the place red real fast," he says. "I ain't one who trusts easy or well."


Domino has left.


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