1963-11-25 - Kitchen Recruitment
Summary: Log Summary
Related: None
Theme Song: None
domino gambit lynette 

So much for Texas. It wasn't all that nice while it lasted due to current events, either. It doesn't matter what part of the country she finds herself, when you look different and something major happens to affect the daily lives of so many people the result always comes right back to the same very dead horse:

Mutie freak.

It's fortunate that Domino had a fast car, she's had to head back north with a fair amount of haste. At least in the Big Apple it's a little easier to hide, even if she has to resort to Mutant Town.

City life hadn't been that great to begin with. Over the last few days it's only gotten worse. There's a tension in the air as she walks through the Kitchen. Not from demons, or vampires, or even the damn mob families at one anothers' throats. Anything that's different is automatically marked as a target.

Bleached white skin in a predominantly black neighborhood, very very different. The locals are becoming agitated.


"Lookie what de cat drag in," Gambit says with a smile, from behind her. Keeping pace. He lives in this area, legitimately now but he has, at least tacitly, for months. "Helluva week, DommieDom. Helluva week."


The night before had left the mambo with a number of questions. At first, it was meeting that dark suited figure that spoke with two voices, and after that? It was walking alongside another fellow, who could split into himself a number of times. There was also the fight. Carrying a few bruises, but no worse for wear, the dark skinned girl with floofy hair makes her way down the street and toward the same soup kitchen she had been working at the night prior. The mix of groups here was favorable for one like herself, but the unease from the death of one man hadn't made it better than anywhere else.

At first, she doesn't register that two people she had met before were just a few blocks, and across the street, away from her. Her shoulders are hunching forward, and she curls herself up into her that slack, sweater-jacket as best as she possibly can to battle against the cold.


The accent should have given it away. Domino very nearly jumps before spinning about on her heels, staring back at the man that just spoke out to her. It isn't just the country that's on edge, she's looking a tad bit frazzled. "-Jeezus,- Gambit! The hell did you come from?"

One thing about nervous people, they're usually nervous for a reason. The albino just might have slipped under the radar before simply because no one was paying her any attention. After being startled, eyes are drawn. For some of the locals, they're now looking at a scared white rabbit. The wolves are looking for blood.

Momentum begins slowly, an almost subtle joining of a few random people as they murmur quietly to one another. Others will soon follow, emerging from doors and alleyways.


"Well, ole Remy come from Nawlins, origon-ally," Gambit says with a grin in about the least helpful way possible. "Live a bit o' time in Europe and Argentina, n'est-ce pas?" His grin grows a little bit as he notices how frazzled Domino seems to be.

"Whatchyo problem, missy? You look as doe you just spent de night wit an alleycat. I should know." But as people begin to act weird, Remy raises an eyebrow and looks over his shoulder.


Out of all those that notice, one of them is the girl with black eyes. She pauses, her brows slopping in confusion, and there stand a pair she's met before, both with an odd look about them in one way or another. Stalling outside of the kitchen, she glances down its alley as if looking for something that simply wasn't there. Shrugging, she gives a light jog across the street, her scuffed up, partially laced boots thumping against pavement. "Dom," she greets, before reaching her, offering her a bright smile.

"How y'doin'?" The girl greets, before eyeing Remy and crossing her arms under her chest. "Ah, beau, y'didn' swing by de diner afta all. Tsk, standin' up a girl already? F'shame."


"Oh, really? I had no idea," Domino sarcastically replies. His time spent out of country is noted and filed away for later, who knows if that might come in handy sometime down the road.

"My problem?" she asks with a bit of emphasis and (this time) a mock look of surprise. "Someone iced Kennedy and the bad vibes are flyin' like it's going out of style. If I didn't have a reason to be in this part of the town—"

Ah, frig.

"I'm g-ah, Lyn!" The odds of getting randomly startled by two people she knows within a five minute window… "Is this a secret 'welcome home' party? For real, you guys." Oh hey, and they've already met. Go figure.

It's just that easy, now there's another group. Similar people banding together. With the other two odd looking individuals standing around the white one they've just made themselves targets by proxy.

Another group made up of four dark-skinned men start to move closer.

Then another group of six.


"Dere all sorts of tings y'ave no idea bout, sho nuff. Specially if ya never spen' time down on de Bayou," Remy says in a sing song way, trying to cut the tension. He gives an upwards nod to Lynette, "You believe I found a place 'ere in de kitchen of hell? Roomate said she ain't movin' t'Harlem and I ain't got no choice in de matter." Besides, this area was close to 'work' (if you can call it that. Remy Le Beau hasn't worked a day in his life). It's also closer to one Jessica Jones.

"D'hell do dese guys want?" Remy says with a sigh. 6 packs of cards. One bo staff. A serious need to let out some pent up aggression. He's not looking for a fight, but he sure as hell might finish one.


"Welc'm home? Where'd y'go?" Lyn questions then, her head giving Remy a new nod. When his information is provided, she makes a soft 'ah' noise, and at least smiles. "Well, dat's nice. M'glad y'found a place. Jus' b'careful, non? Dis place bit more sketchy den uptown." Comes her warning. It's only then does she get that well known feeling of being 'watched' fall over her. She turns, looking at those groups gathering with their different numbers. The dark skinned men, however, receive a pouty look from her.

"Com'on now, boys. Get. Y'don' need t'be causin' no trouble, specially dis early in d'mornin'. We ain't doin' not'ing 'nyway. Jus' talkin'." She explains, hands up and palms out. She takes up a side with Domino now, fully showing that she is with the albino and fellow southerner.


Divide and conquer. The three odd looking people are already outnumbered, though a means of putting 'victory' even further within the hands of the others is to pull the three apart.

One group of four and another group of six become one group of ten. First they close in from the street, attempting to block the three mutants between them and the unforgiving brick wall of a building.

"'Ey, donchu think you should be somewhere else, beetch?"

Domino's not feeling quite so patient. She's spent a lot of long hours on the road, already. "Oh fuck this—"

All it takes is the first sign of open hostility. Like a hive mind the ten rush forward, four on Remy and three on each of the ladies. Due to the nature of their banding together they don't pack much in the line of weapons. There's a switchblade or two, and at least one brick kept within a meaty hand. No guns..yet.

Dom gets shoved back against the wall with a blade at her throat, though before the guy holding it can figure out what sort of threatening thing he wants to say next there's the dull *crack!* of a filled terra cotta pot busting open over the top of his head, knocking him out cold. A couple White Daisies fall to the grimy street while the cat that had been startled off of the windowsill now hides under the bed in an apartment several floors above the scene.


"Dis not a good idea—I garoontee it," Remy says with a shake of his head as he's grabbed by the shoulders and smashed against the wall. His hands are in the pockets of his trench, however, and each hand has a lightly pink colored glow to a card he carries between his fingers. He slides the card down the front of his attackers pants. "Dun say Gambit neva got you nuffin' for Christmas!" the Cajun says with a grin as he ducks down between his assailant's legs and rolls on through.


A light explosive erupts in the guy's pants. Not enough to kill, but certainly to maim. Perhaps that shall serve as a lesson to anyone. If you mess with a bull, you get the horns, and if you mess with a ladies man, a ladies man will hit you in what he considers to be the worst place possible. Life is all about choices.


With a hand how pulling at a fist full of the girl's hair, she strambles and kicks, commanding that they let her go. She was not the best of fighters, this girl, she usually used other tricks to win her fights; one of them being not getting into fights at all. But since that has failed, it was time for something else. Another spin around and a slap against her face, the girl reaches up a hand and holds to the fist that clutches a brick.

As it falls, as she knew it would, a soft growl rolls from her throat, as her eyes shift and become something less 'normal' and more 'serpentine.' This action alone gages that rage in the man's face, causing him to move with more force. Thunk, the brick meets her skull, and where it leaves flecks of gravel, the man before her's skin parts, allowing blood to bead and swell at the fresh wound and roll down his face. Dizzy, confused, he starts to stagger back from the girl.


And there's their confirmation! Just as soon as Remy explodes the one guy's pants someone else is all too quick (all too -eager-) to yell out "Muties! Kill 'em!" Three left for Gambit, he's not done yet!

Then there's Lynette, who to everyone else is just hanging on and trying to stop the guy with the brick from hitting her. It's hard to know the truth, they're too busy being all hyped up and off of their collective rockers with the promise of violence. One does notice her eyes, though. He's not sure whether to try and punch her or turn around and run for the hills.

-Eyes are not supposed to do that.-

In Domino's case someone does throw a fist her way and ends up punching the wall with enough force to break a couple of knuckles. He's still howling when she throws him into the third guy coming at her, sending both down to the sidewalk.

"We should get outta here, guys!"

Crap, is Lynette going to be okay?

The guy clutching his groin and writhing around in the street might not be.


Remy's roll turns into a spring jump as the staff comes out from an inner pocket of the trench coat and elongates with the depression of a button. The first poke is to keep people at a distance—proximity can be the biggest problem during a fight with knives. Then as one of them attacks Remy, stupidly, the thug gets a depression all his own. A nice little divot to the skull.

Unfortunately, one of the other two is much bigger than Remy and as the Cajun takes care of the first, the lug wraps his large arms around him, grappling him in a bear hug!


Lynette seems to be just fine. The fellow with the bleeding noggin drops his brick, and soon enough, he, too, slumps onto the street. She knew they should run, but she doesn't voice her agreement with Domino; there's just no time. "If y'give a damn 'bout y'friends, 'd get'em t'de hospital. Now!" She explains as if reason might /might/ favor out during this scuffle.

No chance. Another man swings at the girl with his own knife, biting into the air, and finally, against her skin in the process. The sleeve of her arm rips and starts to flower red, showing that it can be done, and that the little mambo can be hurt when not holding the knife herself. Hissing in a gasp through her teeth, the snake eyed girl rushes forward, slipping around one of the men and pulling his jacket along with him. Somehow, she takes the entire article of clothing, only to toss it back in his face. Wher fingers move, and slitted pupils focus. Its then that the sleeves of the coat start to wiggle and move, before wrapping around the man's head and blinding him to the frey. Without a visual, and muffled sounds of screaming in his ears from the man without his junk, he starts to swing, wildly, at the air.


Twice now Gambit's done something nice for Domino. Granted she still doesn't know that he let that one soldier live back at the Thistle complex but he -did- just give her a fancy new Vette, and it -was- a very lovely roadtrip to Texas and back.

The next cause-and-effect comes in the form of a small, ghostly white fist driving into the side of the bear-hugger guy's head. Remy will be able to breathe again as the downed dude collapses in a heap, leaving Dom shaking her hand out because that shit -hurts.-

Lynette's not in much better shape. There's only a few of these thugs left but the three mutants are still in a bad spot. There are lots more people, and more may be right around the corner. Getting somewhere safe is their best option. The Brotherhood has a safe house not far from here.

Lynette's coming with. It's just the way it's going to be.

Out come the pistols. Dom randomly picks two of the thugs left standing to aim at, ready to put them both down. Fortunately for them, someone finally gets the hint. These three aren't such easy targets, after all!

One of the guys grabs another, stumbling away from the trio. "Shit, we done here! Git gone!"

The guy that's caught up in a jacket ends up tripping over the exploding pants guy. He can't even fight his way out of a coat, he shouldn't be much more trouble to anyone.


Remy gives his shoulders a couple of shakes as gets re-used to life not trapped in a vice. He pauses long enough to re-adjust the collar of his trench coat, before he gives Domino a tilted head, coyest look East of the Mississip'. "Aw, chere. For me? Ya shunt'ave." He gives her a wink of thanks as he reaches down to pick up his bo-staff.

Gambit's shoulders seize as Domino brandishes her guns. "Tink Imma gun need a rubdown after t'day." Then, more seriously, "Feelin' dat we should be gettin' out of de cold right quick, hear?"


Hands still up, the girl glares toward the retreating goons as they finally make the best choice they could today. As the man in the jacket falls, the girl with an achy arm and scalp from her tugged kinks decides to make a point. With hands up, and down again, the jacket flutters up, before slamming against the ground once, twice, three times. Then, she stops. There was pure rage behind those jade eyes, but once her powers cease, the slips of fabric drops, lifelessly, around the man's head.

Her teeth grit, and with a nod, she moves to Gambit's words, she moves closer to the pair, her eyes shifting back to something more natural and obsidian. It was something Domino had seen before. "Where?" She questions, holding onto her arm and giving a worried, concerned, look to the duo. "Are y'ok?" She murmurs gently. Her lips softening into a frown.


"Yeah..you're not alone," Domino grunts as her arms gradually drop to her sides. "Keep playin' your cards right maybe you'll win something else."

Whatever it is that Lynette's doing with her hands and that jacket is kind of freaky. All Dom can do is stand and stare in disbelief. Telekinesis, while eerie as hell, isn't completely unfamiliar to her. This..kind of seems like something different. She doesn't know, though she's glad to not be on the receiving end of it.

Weapons are put away so she can reach out and catch Lynette by the arm. Hopefully this isn't a bad idea. "C'mon. Somewhere you'll be safe." Remy knows where she's referring to.

Lyn's question does cause the albino to pause. "I'm ..just fine," she says with a hint of disbelief. There's a small nick at her throat, a thin red line formed upon the skin, but otherwise the worst of it was her own fault when she hit that guy in the skull. She did see Lynette get cut up, though. "We'll get you taken care of. Gambit, you good?"


"Y'mean like de Cracker Jack? Ole Remy love Cracker Jacks," the Cajun responds with a grin. "Oh, I'm good chere. Remy always good." He skips along, headed towards the safehouse as if the entire world should not be watched warily right now. And it should.

"We got some suppli over at d'house iffen you wan me to look at dat neck of yos. Ain't no funny business or nuffin."

  • * *

It's a blessedly short walk to the tenement. No more trouble finds the three along the way. Reaching 6A there isn't any secret knock or hidden entrance, Domino just unlocks the door with a regular old key and leads the way inside.

"Home is where the Hell is," she declares with a tired sigh. "Mind the perpetual state of mess, we're all very busy people here. You, sit," she orders Lynette while pointing back at the other lady. Dom has two items in mind to collect: A first-aid kit, and a bottle of something strong. Order doesn't matter.

Neither of these retrievals require much thought. With a mind left idle, she calls back to Remy "How can you be so damn cheery all of the time, Gambit?" She's still making a point of using his codename, just in case. "Seriously. Teach me the art of your Zen."


"Well, dere couple of reasons for it. And ain't none of em appropree-at for a child d'age of Lynette over dere," Remy responds with a grin. "You need 'elp wit dat neck of yours or you got it? Don't want mah fingers shot off wit dose guns of y'ose."

Remy goes to the fridge and grabs a beer. He wanted leftover mash potatoes from a few days ago, but thinks Fred may have eaten them. Bastard.

Just kiddin, he loves that guy.


Lynette sits when told to. Her body gives a little bounce and her eyes start to look around the apartment and its 'mess'. She giggles, though, smirking over toward the Cajun and giving him a quirk of her brow. "Gambit? Y'call y'self Gambit?" Shaking her head, she keeps the grip on her arm firm and then slumps back into her seat. "Guess it's fittin', 'specially afta what y'told me in dey diner."

The reason for his 'zen', however, and why he doesn't talk about it, causes her to glare over at the man and even stick her tongue out at him. "I ain't a baby." She grumbles, turning her attention away from him purposefully.


It would be easy to play the tough girl route and say that she's fine. It's not a bad wound, anyway. Like a papercut. Really! No big deal.


And yet when Domino returns she gives Remy a look and says "Knock yourself out." She's still going to take a look at Lynette's injuries, though. If there are any. Some people have super ridiculous healing factors.

"Between the two of us we seem to enjoy playing the odds more than what's healthy." It only dawns on her a moment later that while the other two had met before it must have involved a different naming scheme. Ah well. "Where'd they hit you, Lyn. People around here tend to get grumpy when someone else bleeds on the furniture."


"We'p, aiight," Remy says as he sets the beer down and goes to the first aid kit. From there, he gets something to sterilize the cut on her neck and some clean wipes to clear it. "Gun sting," he says idly.

After he cleanses it with a solvent, which hurts like a bitch, he blows upon her neck with breath that is akin to a mixture of ashtray and pine needles. Ah, the 1960s. "Hits to de jugula' ain't no fun, no fun 'tall, Dommie. You best be workin' dose back muscles t'elp bring you outta de way."


Lynette watches the pair closely. Her brow still up, and pout apparent, she only allows it to linger for a moment. Solemn in expression now, she slowly removes her jacket, and under sweater, to expose the slice on her arm. It was there, and very real indeed. This one didn't have a healing factor, it seems.


Domino could roll her eyes when Remy says it's going to sting. "Well no sh-hhhhit," she starts to say but ends in a hiss through her teeth. Tiny, tiny wound! (Yeah, sure.) It gives Lynette some time to shed a few layers, and Dom a chance to chill out some with the happy helping hand of endorphins.

"Thanks," she grunts through a tensed jaw. "Luck favored you this round, we both got cut on and all they gave you was a hug. I'd wonder if there really was something to that southern charm if Lyn wasn't looking at the inside of her own arm."

And now that she's hurting all the more, she gets to pass on the favor! The second verse is the same as the first. Now hold still, Lynette.

In the next moment she's frowning. "You're gonna have to make a decision here, Lyn," she calmly tells the other femme. "We can stitch this here and now, in which case you'll probably hate me forever. You can suck it up long enough for us to take a drive out to the free clinic in Harlem. Or, we can do a quick and dirty patch job and let you camp out here long enough for Elixir to come around and power away all that's ailin' you. This one's gonna need some help."


Gambit can't help but chuckle at Domino as she chides him for being the only one who isn't hurt. "Dere always sometin to de Southern Charm, ma'am. W'aint got nuffin else."

But then, Lynette's arm. "Sweet Mama Bitreaux, you lookin' like you fought a saberetooth. And de cat won!" Remy looks to the first aid kit, and nods to Domino. They had better get to work quick, if the gettin is good.


"S'funny. I didn' even try m'luck out jus' den. Maybe next time." She smiles, her complextion lightening once she returns to the conversation. Looking at her arm, she pulls her fingers away and then clamps them down once more. "Merde…jus' stitch it now b'fore it all c'ms off n'I'm left lookin' like Marinette."

Moving a bit on the sofa, she sits on its edge and moves her limb to rest on its arm, giving Domino a better view. The idea of stitches causes her to shudder, at least once, before she turns her head and keeps her mind on something else. Brain matter being picked from your curls? Nothing doing. Needles touching her skin? Screw that noise.


"Thought you guys also had a lot of pride in your cooking skills?" Domino asks Remy. There's a thin smile there, too. A chuckle as well with the sabretooth comment.

"Maybe you should have," she deadpans to Lynette while getting everything relocated. "Technically you shouldn't throw alcohol into your system during surgical procedures. Thins the blood. But, it also numbs some pain and steadies the nerves," she states while taking a swig off of the bottle she had found. "Your choice. But, forewarning, I'm not a surgeon. I know the basics. This won't be pretty but your odds of recovery are well within your favor." Glancing back to Remy, she asks "Do we have any painkillers around? Otherwise if she makes too much noise you might need to give her a good thunk on the noggin." Three guesses if she's joking about this part!

Antiseptic. Gauze. Gaping wound. "Rock and roll," she softly announces.


And like a ghost, or a happy memory, the Cajun is gone. Lynette even turns her head to look for him. A blink, or five, she reaches out for the alcohol and swigs. That turns into a few gulps and the bottle lowers with a heavy 'thunk' on the floor. "Go." She keeps her head to the side, her eyes closing gently and her mouth moving. There's a song there, tender and almost sweet as she prepares for the first dig of metal into flesh.

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