1964-02-14 - Recon in Brooklyn: Part II
Summary: As Domino and Lyn continue their intel gathering efforts, a new enemy comes out to play.
Related: Recon in Brooklyn: Part I, All FoH Logs
Theme Song: None
domino lynette 

Lynette swats away the woman's hand, mutters under her breath. "S'jus' m'hair. Y'keep pokin' at it, m'gonna poke at dat cute lil spot y'got." She warns, wiggling her fingers toward Domino's face, and that mark that makes her look, well, like a domino piece. With each rung she climbs up, silent as ever, the dark skinned girl's bundle of kinks bobs up and down. On the landing, she waits for her companion and works at the lock of a window. There was something the two shared with one another, and that was the gift of 'luck'. With a good slice of it, the window opens, and doesn't even strain or groan when being pryed up and open.

Slipping in, she waits for Neena, before leaving the window open, but closing it so not to allow heavy amounts of chilly air to follow in after them. The room was something simple, a side bedroom with a single bed, the mattress bare, and stained in places. A heady aroma lingers here, of smoke and sour booze. Voices muffle down the hall way, and a yellow light shines from under the door's thing slit.


When you live a life without mirrors it's easy to forget what you look like. When The Spot is pointed out Domino seems to sober up as quickly as if she had been slapped across the face. Maybe Lyn thinks it's cute…

Not another word is said until the two are outside of the window and the Cajun slips it open without an ounce of fanfare. "Someone's done this before," she teases with a crooked grin. It's always good having some pals who have a little breaking and entering under their belt.

The bedroom awaiting the two leaves much to be desired, assaulting a minimum of two of the five senses at any given opportunity. "What a hole," she mutters with an unpleasant look. The upside is that a dirty environment means it hasn't been cleaned. Which means a better chance of finding something useful lurking within the grime. Time to get to work.


"Girl's gotta eat when runnin'. N'not freeze, too." She explains, given her 'done this before' cander. Her nose crunches up at the smells here, and she becomes tight-lipped, keeping her scent-sensative tongue away from the odors of the room. Watching shadows pass across the line of light, she looks toward Domino, and nods, moving across the small area, picking at left behind drawers, finding nothing but lint and dust bunnies for their troubles.

"Just toss him in this one."

"Is it open?"

"Yeah. Fred was just…entertaining with it a few hours before hand." The door opens, but with such carelessness that the pair are given a chance to easily hide themselves away in the darkness. No lights are turned on, and all that's left behind is a human figure, tossed onto the bed, face covered in bandages, and groaning as they bounce and land without the kindess of good bed-side manner. The door shuts once more, leaving the duo of mutants in peace.


Voices, coming nearer. Odds of them randomly picking the same room that the two luck-benders are currently occupying..?

Sucker bet.

Neena passes a quick glance back to Lynette before turning herself into a proper ghost. One might think that the white face would make it difficult to hide in the shadows. Evidently she's had a lot of practice doing just that! Before the door opens she's both made herself scarce and armed herself with a knife. The bandaged guy getting tossed onto the bed may not look like he'd put up much of a fight. She's not convinced yet.

With the door closed and the footsteps subsiding she drifts back out of hiding without a sound and comes over to the side of the bed, slipping the blade around in her hand to reveal the business end of the weapon. Just so that anyone who looks at her knows that it's there.

Is this man a human, or a mutant..? One of their own, or one of the 'Friends?' Honestly, sometimes it can be hard to tell! The best way to figure it out is to wait for their reaction to those who are obviously not plain old humans.

One more glance is offered to Lynette, as if silently asking for the other lady's thoughts. Actually -wanting- to know what Lyn thinks of the situation. It's right there in her eyes. Maybe not full-on trust… But something's there.


Lynette had slipped under the bed. The shadows were darker there, hugging to her tiny form. Their business done, a body left behind, the girl slips out from her spot and now stands on the other side of the bed. Her head tilts, eyes looking over the figure and their weak, tired state. Her tongue presses at her upper lip, drinking in his scent, before eyeing over toward her pale companion.

She nods her way, digging a knife out of her own pocket and flicking her wrist, forcing it to set with a metallic 'click' of blade to hilt. Her fingers rest down, pressing against the man's throat, feeling his pulse. The blade rests on her cheek, blunt top of course, and she drags it downward, suggesting they remove the bandages. "Sleepin'." Lyn informs Domino. "I c'n smell de drugs on'm. Blood, too. N'…s'mt'ing anticeptic."


It never fails. Every time Domino's hanging around Lynette she goes and does something new that Dom had no idea she -could- do. As it turns out, Lyn has an acute sense of smell.

Suddenly Neena feels sorry for her having to hang around the Brotherhood safe houses.

The report is met with a slight incline of the albino's chin. "Then let's unwrap our present. Oh, and…" she trails off, motioning to a spot upon her own head with the blade. Lyn picked up a dust bunny while hiding under the bed.

Following the direction is another rare moment. She turns and walks away from the injured man, going back to her search of the room proper. It isn't a lack of interest so much as trying to maximize their effectiveness. It's proof that she believes Lynette can handle taking care of this on her own.

Those two other people from the hall, the light sounds of shuffling from the adjacent room, she doesn't pay any of those things too much mind. They're elsewhere. They aren't currently a problem for these two. What has her attention is the closet, that dark and out of the way 'catch-all' for things people don't want other people to see. Bedroom closets are where the lockboxes hide. Where the valuables are stored. Where the weapons are stashed.

For once she isn't being completely anonymous about her actions, either. "Now, if I had something that I didn't want people to find…" she quietly thinks while brushing hung-up clothes aside with the tip of her blade.

There's a bit of irony in her commentary. It sums up her entire life quite well.


Lynette blinks, reaching up and into her hair, finding those puffs of dust trapped in her curls. Shaking, it all wobbles free. Well, most of it anyway. Nodding, she follows after Domino with her dark gaze, before pulling at some slack fabric and start to cut it all away. She's careful, at least, not without some form of sympathy. Then again, if it was one of their own, she'd want to make sure they were taken care of.

The closet is mostly bare. Some clothing hangs, pushed around, eaten through by moths ages ago, or so it seems. A shelf rests above the albino, covered in dust, with boxes here and there, as well as as few books worth of paper. Picture albums, or so it looks to be, and some records, ruined by age. A press of her foot would create a noticable protest from a couple of boards of the floor.

"Hey." Lyn whispers out, pulling away strips of bandages, and exposing to swollen, red, fresh face of the man who had a number of stitches keeping his skin in place. "Dey weren' lyin'." She hisses, her nostrils wrinkling up with disgust. The man on the bed had seen better days, but it was obvious that his face was one they had seen before, and Lynette had seen three times now. He was the speaker at one rally, and at the other. She same man who talked a big game, and was taken down by a number of them in different locations. They were 'cloning' their head leader, Graydon Creed, and here is yet another dupe, freshly operated on.


With the 'hey' Domino turns on her heel and looks out from the closet. As soon as she recognizes the face she isn't sure whether to be more surprised or more disgusted. "Christ. If they keep growing more of that asshole then why would they go through the trouble of trying to fix one that's so far gone? Gonna be some bad scars on that one."

Assuming these two let him live long enough to heal the damage.

It's when she turns back to the closet that she finds the creak in the floor, her attention immediately shifting downward. "Well—"

The thought is silenced by what sounds like a muffled explosion, the back wall of the closet exploding outward in fragmented splinters of wood. Except..there's no flash of heat or rush of air which accompanies a detonation. Instead there's something which looks suspiciously like a large pale hand, so pale as to almost seem translucent, locked around Dom's neck. More debris falls from the fresh hole in the wall as her feet suddenly lift away from the floor and start kicking at the air.

Her current thoughts on the ever-evolving situation are summed up quite easily: "Ghhk!"


"Guess dey no rest f'de wicked." Lynette murmurs, moving her blade just so, placing it on the man's temple, and readying herself to drive the mark home; ending him silently. When the silence is broken, the girl can't help but jump in place, knicking the man's skin, causing him to grumble another nose of tired, pained, protest.

"The hell was that?"

"Something outside?"

"No, sounded like it came from Chuck's room."

This was Chuck, and this was his new 'room'. The thumping noises of boots to floor start to close in on the area, all the while, Lynette stares, eyes like saucers, toward the figure of Domino, and that 'grip' around her throat. "Merde!" She curses, rushing forward her companion with one hand in the air. She 'pulls' at the hand, attempting to break it free from the albino's throat, and with her other hand, she 'holds' at the space below her, offering some form of 'stability' in thin air.


So much for a stealth op! The room itself starts to feel restless as the unseen figure attacks the rickety structure. Chuck's going to have a new doorway soon.

As soon as Lynette's hand reaches the larger white one she's going to make a peculiar discovery. It doesn't feel like skin at all… It's more akin to handling cool, softened wax, a point which is further reinforced by the knife in Domino's grasp slicing into, and through, the forearm. No blood. No visible injury. It just closes up around the cut as soon as the steel passes through.

The rest of the wax-like monster marches forward, turning a small hole in the wall into a very large seven foot tall wound. The shape sure looks like a man, just..like a man made purely out of paraffin wax. His other arm winds up and tries to smack Lynette aside as if she's nothing more than an irritating pest. Then he's going to slam Domino straight onto her back against the floor, causing the entire building to shudder.

And creak.

And groan…

There's a muffled popping sound from underfoot as rotten timber gives way beneath the two white forms.


Holding up her companion with her mind, the girl's eyes shift to their 'natural' state once her abilities come into heavier play. As soon as her pupils form into slits, the heavy handed 'smack' connects with her face, sending her petite form rolling. Crashing up against a wall, the girl presses up and shakes her head, some curls falling from their bundle. Spitting out a mass of crimson and saliva, the girl growls and turns back toward the attack, only to see the floor give.

Rushing toward its edge, her dark hand reaches out, trying to hold, to grab at Domino with another 'pull' of her mind. Even if the pair continue to fall, at least the albino will have a bit more of something keeping her steady. As light as she is, the girl's body leans more over the lip of the hole, some objects sent crashing in after them, and more voices sound behind the door.

"The hell is going on in there?"

"I don't know, just open it!"

Groaning, the bed scuffs the floor and starts to move, now pressing against the door as a make shift blockade.


What the hell is Domino stepping on?! There's nothing but air under her feet! Whatever it is, it's helping! When the floor gives way with a thunderous *CRACK!* that unseen support helps even further, the blade falling from numb fingers after the Waxman as, in the last second, Neena catches a splintered piece of lumber in the ruined floor.


"-Jeezus!- Time to go!"

The voices outside are, once again, not paid much mind. There's bigger problems to worry about! With a fair amount of effort she climbs back up into the bedroom then gets a proper look at the unusual attacker in the room below. While he seems impossible to wound there's a downside to that bizarre skin, between the ruined floor and the furniture below he's now looking more like a well-used voodoo doll with all of the huge splinters jutting out of his figure. Completely pincushioned.

Then the stash is noticed. Hanging by a proverbial thread, a mystery box which had been hiding under the floorboards. Before Dom can think about it the box is taken into her hands, all while the Wax figure is trying to peel himself out of the wreckage.

"Lyn!" Neena yells out, eyes wide as she seeks out the fellow mutant. Is she still here, is she okay? "Outside, we need a car!" Something close, with the engine already running!


The pressure and support falls away, now that the strain is no longer on her mind, the girl relaxes, panting raggedly down into the space below her. Hearing her name, she nods and stands, still in the room with the albino, and swiftly heading for the door. No reason to be gentle now, and with a grip of her fingers, the window snaps up and open, allowing the two quick passage out.

With a monster below, loud angry voices roar out behind them, and begin battering the door open, attempting to get inside. Lyn waits, not moving until Domino is with her, and back to the ladder, she slids down, feeling the slick, metal 'sting' of rust and frozen grim digging into her palms. "Fuck!" She swears, but once ground meets her feet, the girl is up and sprinting toward their park job.


With skin that's so naturally pale the angry red marks around Domino's neck look downright exaggerated. Her voice sounds ragged and she's still finding her breath, but goddammit she's moving! Out through the window again she doesn't take the ladder so much as drop right off of the landing, using the building and a nearby dumpster to slow her descent enough that a roll across the alley below isn't going to snap her neck. Speed and efficiency, time is something they don't have!

"Walk it off, girl!"

Neena's car is a couple of blocks away with a cooling engine. With the stolen lockbox tucked under one arm she draws a .380 pistol with the other and simply runs out into traffic, one of the cars locking the brakes and skidding at an angle until the bumper is less than an inch away from her leg. Similarly, her finger is just a hair's width away from pulling the trigger. "Out!"

This is how you call a cab in New York City.

She claims the wheel, tossing the box into the back while waiting oh so impatiently for Lynette to jump in if she isn't already there. "I don't know what the hell is going on but I'm not at all prepared for th—"


A neat little hole suddenly appears in the passenger window, made by the neat little dart now sticking in the side of the albino's neck.


Three rapid heartbeats later and she's down for the count. Survival instinct only kicks in long enough for her to get the car into gear before the tranquilizer leaves the full weight of her foot upon the accelerator.

There's nothing left to take care of the steering wheel.

The massive engine quickly builds up to redline as a rain of slush shoots out from the rear wheels. The car is slow to pick up speed, but it's moving… Considering the pinned creature and an unseen sniper nearby, distance would be a good thing to have!


Lynette rolls off a hood of a car that barely misses her legs. Should it have connected, they would have snapped like twigs against the metal. Ducking in, she waits for them to get rolling, but that sudden crack of glass has her head turning to face Domino once more.

Doll like, she sees the albino slump and roll, foot down, and engine angry with forced, flooding power. Her brain is racing, almost as much as the car was, even as it slips and spins through the slush of the road. Finally, the girl crawls over, resting herself in Domino's lap, and reaching beside their chair to let it fall back, pulling her away from the wheel. Panting, she forces her foot off the gas petal, her feet pushing here and there, trying to regain some control.

The car juts forward, lerching and snapping back to a halt as the gears grind, leaving the youth both frustrated, and dumbfounded, as to what to do exactly. "How d'y'work dis damn t'ing?!" She yells out, just in time for the pair to roll down a small incline, and into the wall of a brick building. The flat of her chest rams into the stirring wheel, but her weight atop Domino at least keeps her down in her seat. They'll both be feeling this in the morning, however. With another shake of her head, the girl clammers out, snakes the box under her own arm, and then the albino next. Dragging her out as best she can, she grits her teeth and slides them into the alley space between two buildings, cursing all the way.


The street behind is left in a bigger mess than the tenement they had just escaped from. Horns from other cars are still sounding out. There's a few soft crunches as vehicles in motion attempt to stop without nearly enough traction.

Okay, so it isn't all that different from a typical day in Brooklyn.

The stunt did buy the two some time, though only just. Moments later there's a pair of large, dark vehicles patrolling the area. A keen eye would notice the key signs of armor plating, well concealed to blend in with normal traffic. There's more weight upon the suspension, more mass for the tires to hold up, a deeper grunt in the sounds of their engines.

The curious thing is how eerily calm everything is. No sirens, no one is running around and yelling. It's as if nothing unusual happened at all. For someone like Lynette it might be more of a sixth sense, a tug of instinct or a feeling in the back of the mind. There are bad people in the area, and they are hunting.

Fortunately for these two, Domino's not the only one being watched over by Lady Luck. However, this round of divine intervention comes at a cost. With the cold February air there's a lot of layers involved. As if waiting for the two to be somewhere well out of sight it's purely by chance that some of the albino's skin would come into direct contact with some of Lynette's darker-hued skin, offering just a spark of a vision.

A metal box. Hot. Dark. In motion, perhaps upon the back of a truck. Narrow vents set high in the walls allow humid air to filter through and just enough sunlight to reveal a couple of soldiers all sitting around inside of this 'box,' all of them looking very stoic in full combat attire.

Then the vision is gone.


Lynette freezes in place, her head resting back as those snake-like eyes round out and stare into nothing. The vision, or link between the pair, causes her body to twitch now and then, up until it's over and done with. The lingering unease rolling up the baby-mambo's back is enough to drive her forward. They were in trouble, they were being tracked, her companion was out like a light, and it was cold. All of these were bad for someone like Lynette.

Thankful for the night, the darkness swells around the pair allowing them to pass into a void between the buildings, and after giving a quick look around, she notices that one of the buildings is unattended. Taking a hint, or the offer, that years of wanderlust and squatting has taught her, she accepts the building's 'invitation'.

Her leg gives a kick, then another, before her fingers move, turning the door's knob to the side and allowing them to slink in. Door shut, she rests Domino down, and starts gathering up anything, everything, she can, to close the bar up the passage. Down, low, on the ground, she sits with the albino and waits.


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