1964-02-14 - Recon In Brooklyn: Aftermath
Summary: After hiding out from some new enemies, Domino and Lynette have a talk.
Related: Recon In Brooklyn: Part I, Recon in Brooklyn: Part II
Theme Song: None
domino lynette 

Knowing exactly how long it takes for the drugs to run their course isn't easy to determine without a clock handy. Knowing when the effects have passed enough for Domino to come back around, that's the easy part.

There's a sudden gasp and flurry of motion as the albino sits bolt upright, then she's on her feet in a low (and very unsteady) crouch in the next instant. Pale eyes stare wide and wild as her head darts to and fro, as if searching for a threat for both of her drawn sidearms to draw a bead on.

It's too violent of a motion happening much too quickly for her to keep up. Vertigo catches her one second later, knocking her sideways back to the floor with the same casual ease as someone hip-checking a table where a house of cards resides. She drops like a bag of laundry then immediately starts scrambling for whatever cover she can find, whether it be a couch, a wooden crate, a burnt out car..anything!


Lynette was sitting closer by. She found some old, ratty covers for the items left behind in this building, and draped one over Domino, and the other around herself. The dart was taken out, studied, and set aside for someone else who understood this shadow game way more than she did.

When the albino reactions, the girl jumps slightly, watching her pop up, then down, and skitter away all in a matter of a few seconds. "Hey," she voices gently. "Chere, hey…s'ok. We ain't 'n dangah." She promises, not moving from her spot just yet; who wanted to be shot?

Resting on her knees now, she faces her companion, hands up, palms out, showing she meant no harm. "Chere, listen. Breathe deep, calm down. S'jus' me here."


As soon as Lynette speaks out Domino's popping up from behind her bit of cover, one of her guns trained right at where the poor girl's face would be regardless of whether it could be seen or not. Before anything disastrous can follow through her wide eyes flicker and roll back slightly, the outstretched hand going limp as the other gun comes up to gently rest against her forehead. Back to the ground she goes, sprawling out onto her back with the guns almost gently sliding out of her tired palms.

"I don't..something's..where are we?" she mutters, speech yet slurred from the chemical injection. As an afterthought she blindly reaches to the side of her neck, searching for the dart. Missing.


A curse is muttered while her scrambled thoughts struggle to make order out of chaos. "Did anyone follow us? Are you hit? I'm … Compromised. That's..that's the word I'm … I'm a fucking mess," she concludes in a heavy tone. "Just gonna stare..at the ceiling..if that's okay."


"We in s'm shack on de skirts 'f Brookl'n." Lynette begins, moving to stand and gently pad closer to Domino's side. Folding up the tarp, she makes it into a crappy pillow and gently moves the woman's head up, before sliding it under for some support, and comfort. "Non', we ain't b'n followed. M'fine, jus' sore n'tired. Y'got got wit a dart, chere. S'ova dere, we study it later." Sitting beside her now, she reaches over and touches her brow, before sliding her hand to the side of her throat for her pulse.

"S'fine, jus' breathe. Y'ok, we gon' be ok." She promises gently, looking down at her companion with obvious concern.


Being completely defenseless is not something Neena enjoys. There's an almost desperate look in her glassy-sheened stare, an expression which very few people in the world have ever seen out of her.

Actual fear.

"I don't know how you got us out of there but you get the world's biggest gold star. I was just going for the shifter, and—" she stops short then swallows once. Bone dry throat. With a lingering metallic flavor. For a moment she seems to look right through Lynette, that desperate expression shifting into a frown. Her next thought comes as a whisper; "Sonuvabitch they found me."

Eyes focus back upon Lynette. ..Mostly. "We're not safe here. We need to get out of the state. Right now. They're going to find us again. You're ..you're gonna have to drive," she hesitantly groans while sucker-punching her own sense of pride.

If only she knew that Lynette -couldn't- drive!


"Who's dey?" The girl asks, a hand out, resting on Domino's shoulder to keep her down and calm. "I seen s'mt'ing. A black box on de back 'f a truck. Dey arm'red people in it, n'high vents wit hot air. Could almost feel it on m'face." She explains, her touch still on Domino, giving her something to focus on, and use to steady herself.

"We c'n move, but I ain't leavin' dis city. C'n'. We stick t'dey shadows if we movin', but y'need to be able /t'/ move first. Breathe." She instructs once more. "N'start talkin'."


Dom's next breath stops short in the back of her throat when Lynette raises the obvious question.


Despite all of the reassurances given she turns her head one way then the next as if searching for an escape route. Not just from the peculiar threat but from having to explain what it is!

There isn't long to work out an exit strategy when the vision is mentioned. Neena saw it happen once before, a brief exchange between Lyn and Raven of all people. Without understanding what was happening it hadn't made any sense. It was easily dismissed.

This time around it's sending an icy shiver through her spine. The escaped memory is quickly recalled. "You saw that, huh," she says in a flat tone. It's no longer a question, it's an admission of defeat. "It's where I woke up the last time I was hit by that cocktail."

Breathing's still proving to be a challenge. Now she's at least making an attempt to follow through with the instruction. There's also a drugged hand reaching up, meaning to gently rub at her own forehead. Instead it connects with a completely uncoordinated *smak!*

"..Ow. That's some -really- strong shit in those darts."


"Who are dey, n'why dey comin' afta y'?" Lynette questions one more, her hand reaching over to rub at the woman's face, gently, in a maternal motion. Brushing her hair back, she moves the woman's arm and rests it, flat, on her stomach. She even sets her guns close by, like offering a child their stuffed animals for security.

"Dunno what dat was, in m'head? Seen dat t'ing, dough. De wax-man? N'den while runnin', y'got shot. M'guessin' dey were hidin', but I wasn' 'xactly lookin' f' dem." She confesses, going through the frantic last few hours they had had. Shifting in her spot, she crosses her legs, turning herself into a floofy-topped lotus flower. "I ain't gonna let dem get y', chere." She promises, her voice steady, but genuine. "I kill'm if dey try."


Here the albino closes her eyes, for a time. It's probably as close to relaxing as she's going to get, allowing Lyn to reposition her as she chooses. "I -really- don't want to talk about this, Lynette," Domino grumbles. Doesn't want to..but will. Somewhat.

"Somehow they're associated with the project that made me. They're the only ones that know I exist. They know that the convoy never made it up north to the drop point. I was being relocated. Armed escort..that's what you saw. They tried to keep me doped the entire trip but something went wrong. I came around and found myself in that place. I was hoping that they wouldn't find me, or..fuck, if it would have cost them too much to bother tracking me down. They already lost all of their funding some time ago. Guess I was hoping that ..they'd just forget about me."

She mutters another curse and adds "Knew I shoulda made this a higher priority."


"Made y'?" The story does nothing but create more questions for the Creole. Frowning, though, she watches the woman as she lays there, while she speaks. Her eyes skip about the room, checking to see if anything, anything at all, has changed. For now, it hasn't seemed to.

"Afta dealin' wit dat Hunta guy, dey ones dat, well…I guess, made me, came callin'." She pauses, allowing their similirities, though not completely the same, link up. "Killed dem all, n'de ones I didn' get t'? Vict'r finished dey job." Pausing, she moves back to her knees, and looks down at Domino, her head haloed slightly but her errands curls. "We do dey same t'dem, chere. Don' worry 'bout dat. We keep y'safe, n' ain't n'body takin' y'way."


"Yes…" Dom says through her teeth. What comes next isn't anything that she's prepared for. The looming dread of having to go into more personal details about herself are all shoved aside just as quickly as she picks up on what Lynette is now telling her.

"..Wait. They made -you?- Who's they? What—?" Blink. "-Really?- Okay, you're gonna make it real hard to be all moody and dark over here, girl." But they're already dead. All of them. No wonder she has a fondness for Victor!

"Dammit, we're gonna end up bonding over past experiences before I can get out of here, aren't we."


"Don' gotta." She offers, smirking and shrugging her slender shoudlers toward the albino. "I talk if y'wanna. Y'don' gotta say n't'ing y'don' wanna." She assures her, resting over and close. "I was born wit m'eyes like dis," she begins, pointing toward her serpent peepers. "Dey change latah, but 's omen 'f sorts t'my folks, n'de village. De olda I got, de less safe I felt 'round ev'rybody dere. Den, dey try killin' me in a sacrifice. Dat's when m'powers surged n'I got stronga. So…in a way, dose people? Dey made me."

Explaination over, she thins her lips and sits back slightly, her curls giving a bounce. "Dey gon'. If s'mbody comin' t'claim y', dey gotta go through me, first."


"You got to be the centerpiece of a ritual?" Neena inquires with a look of surprise. "That's pretty hardcore. No wonder you're always looking over your shoulder. Fancy luck on getting the boost when you needed it, though." The idea's given more thought before she asks "Did you care about any of those people, the ones that you killed?"

And just how many -had- she killed? There's a real darkness in this girl…

"Listen..I'm spaced out as shit right now and you did me a real solid back there, so..we can make this one a two-way street. Just this once." Until the next time comes around. "Good on you and Vic for cleaning up that mess but if you really want to help taking on these guys..? They're secretly working under the Government. You'll be kicking Uncle Sam in the jimmies. Just so you know."


"Well, yeah." She frowns, sitting back on her heels, her 'hard' demeanor fading slightly. "M'uncles were dere. N'm'folks, too. 'Course I cared 'bout dem, I jus'…I didn' wanna die." Her full lips pout slightly at that somber realization. Hands on her lap, she nervously, almost timidly, pulls at her finger tips as the memory replays. Comments about Victor have her nodding slightly. Neena had seen her just a day after the whole ordeal; that's when she drove a truck over the guardrail of a bridge.

"Oh, I ain' 'fraid of dat. De gov'ment ain't doin' me n'mine good 'n'way." She confesses, her eyes finding Domino's face once more. "I jus' wanna help y', Neena. I know you don' like it, but I t'ink of y' as m'friend."


"Hey," Neena cuts in with a surprisingly gentle tone. "Don't hate yourself for having a good survival instinct. You did what you had to do. Because of that, you also saved my ass tonight. So it was definitely worth it," she teases with a slight grin.

A friend… No kidding. "I don't have a lot of those," she eventually admits. "There's no love for the people looking for me. They've run me through every experiment in the book. When the intended outcome of the project failed my new purpose was to be broken down. 'Drug therapy' was a real popular one. This," she slowly points to the spot around her eye, "is their mark of rejection. Cut from the facility. I was being pushed into something they used to call Project Artichoke. It's..evolved some from the beginning. Different designation, broader purpose. Nothing good comes out of it. At least at Snowbird they gave me useful training. Quite a lot of it."


"I don', eitha." She admits, even if her list of friends was steadily growing. Another glance at the door she used to get them in, she focuses back on Domino and listens attentively. "Oh…m'sorry I teased 'bout pokin' at it, den." She frowns, her hand up and rubbing nervously at the nape of her neck. "Hey, I c'n tell Vict'r 'bout dis, too. No details, jus' dat y'need help. He ain' 'xactly too keen on de experimentin' suit types, neitha'." She promises with a knowing smirk. "Maybe next time dey, dey in f'a rude 'wakenin'."


Hmmh. It's an awkward situation. Well, no, it isn't really awkward at all, it's simply one which Domino would much rather -not- be in the middle of. "Okay, look. I don't know anything about Victor other than he's a posterchild for the strong and silent type, but if you really trust the guy…" Because right now she's kinda sorta starting to trust Lynette.

"I don't know who Captain Parmesan was back there but if they're bringing in some new toys then having some fire support might not be a bad idea. It's just… Dammit! This is -my- problem. I -don't- like asking for help."

If they can knock her out so easily with just one dart…

"I'd rather have the crazy ritualistic cult. You got lucky there. Now can we get the hell out of here? I'm also not a big fan of time-outs."


"'course I trust'm. I love dat man." She confesses easily enough, and then moves to stand. "Dey got new toys, n'y'got new forms 'f backup." She explains, hand out and down, offering her a way up. "N'y' ain't askin' f' help. M'givin' it." Glancing around, the comment from Domino has her shaking her head, and even giving her a wary glare. "Don' call dat lucky, chere. S'bad form. N'yeah. 'f y' feelin' betta, we c'n get goin'."


Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License