1964-02-19 - Spooks, with a side of Cheese
Summary: Domino (in a paranoid, drunken stupor) talks with others of the Brotherhood about a new enemy on the horizon.
Related: Recon in Brooklyn: Part I, Recon in Brooklyn: Part II, Recon in Brooklyn: Aftermath
Theme Song: None
domino hope victor vx lynette 

There are some moments in life where nothing will substitute getting properly shit-faced. Anyone wandering into the Six Alarm safe house today will find an answer to the question of how much alcohol it takes for a certain albino to get drunk.

..Which is quite a lot, as it turns out.

The Brotherhood's local stash, once admirable in its own right, has been ransacked and decimated. Empty bottles, mostly empty bottles, and a handful of empty glasses share some very crowded space upon a central table which is also currently home to a collection of bloodied bandages, pieces of shrapnel, enough weapons to start a militia, and no shortage of extra bullets.

..As is the kitchen counter…

..And the table in the other room…

Domino's gone and moved herself in, and made one hell of a mess in the process. There's no shortage of arrestable offenses surrounding her in this peculiar nest of violence and familiarity.


There's a muffling of voices coming down the hall. This was a horrible place to be, in a horrible section of the city. Sounds pass now and then, but usually, always, keep moving. Only those in the know stop by this apartment on the sixth floor. Reaching for the nob, a slender hand turns it and allows herself in. "I don' know. M'jus' worried, s'all. T'ink she in trouble, n'we got 'nough probl'ms as it is." Lynette speaks to someone behind her.

She's first to enter, floofy hair giving her away, along with her soap paled scarf and blood stained jacket. Face half hidden, her dark eyes seek back to someone following her in, and then they sweep forward. "Merde…de mess." She mutters, strider deeper into the apartment and looking at all the empty bottles, and selective weaponry on display. Sighing, she picks up a few empty vessels, returning to her habitual manners of working at a bar.

"Bonjour? 'nyone here?" She calls out in a sing-song manner.


One of those people who shouldn't be here is. All appearances point to Hope being completely out of her depth, a teenager in an oversized coat of many pockets stalking down a hallway. It's not the sort of place a nice girl lives. Not the sort of place to find a redhead without a shred of connection in the world, anyways. It just so happens that teenager wears a pair of brass knuckles like they're an extension of her, and the slap of her flat-soled sneakers is deliberate only for someone to be able to hear her in the first place. The hunch to her shoulders is meant to completely distract, and it gives the impression of weakness, fading into the background. All the better as an advantage, really, while negotiating the six floors of stairs and moving past someone who smiles a little too sharply her way.

Another turn and there she is, facing a door to a different avenue in life. The moment before she considers going in, following on the footsteps of others. Lynette and her shadow get company plenty soon. Wrinkling her nose at the assortment of junk, she murmurs, "It looks like a burrow. A trash burrow. We have a broom around here?"


A grunt, but it's not one of disagreement. The second figure following Lyn is rather different in form. He'd not disregard Lynette's concern, but he wasn't quite sharing it. Maybe that whole regenerating thing made him more confident, or maybe Victor Creed had other things on his mind. Whatever the case he pauses in the doorway, giving a little sniff and frown and that heady aroma of alchol and gun-powder. The place being a mess, it doesn't bother him so much, but the fact that someone unexpected had crashed the party? Moreso.

The bearded man pauses for a moment, moving forwards with his hands slipping from his pockets before another sniff makes him relax and shake his head. "It's the 'pale-face' girl, getting wasted." Not exactly delicately put, but at least he knew they weren't getting invaded by hobos with automatic weaponry. Or at least not one they didn't already know. Hope's arrival however? That's an unknown face for his eyes to set upon and the large man's scowl returns, a questioning glance shot at Lynette.


"Oh goodie, reinforcements," Domino deadpans from her hunched-forward seat on the couch. Elbows rest on knees, the former as pale as the latter. Mind the slight state of undress, she has a couple of fresh injuries being tended to. In a matter of speaking. At the moment she seems way more interested in the nickel-plated .45 in her hands and the half-drunk Scotch sitting nearby. "C'mon in, just pull up a shooter and make yourself comfy. Never know what's gonna crawl outta the damn woodwork in this godforsaken city."

Case in point, from the corner of her eye she could just swear that a cockroach skittered past. The gun spins about a crooked finger and draws out at arm's length right where she (thinks she) saw the movement, just long enough to make sure there isn't an insect lurking about in need of a high velocity evisceration.

Nope. All clear.

The gun comes to rest against the side of her face, almost as if she's nuzzling the polished and plated steel. It's cool. Solid. Helps her to feel grounded. Because for all of the fun and dangerous distractions littered about the place there's just one item lurking in her front and center which steals the proverbial show. Something which Lynette would easily recognize.

A single tranquilizer dart. Sans chemical payload.

"A broom..? Why would you want a -broom?- You can't shoot a broom. Accuracy's terrible. Long reload." Sniff. "Yeah. There's one'n the closet. ..Weirdo."

To Victor, she calls out "-Already- wasted..thank you. Didn't spend the last four hours killin' my liver for nothin' over here."


Lynette mutters a few curses in French as she moves about, but now and then, when she finds even /more/ of a mess, that French twists into Haitian Creole. The sight of Hope gives her pause, and offering the ginger a nod and smile, she glances Victor's way. Another upnod, she points from one to the other. "Vict'r, dis Hope. Hope, Vict'r." She was one of them, apparently, and that's all that really mattered.

Noting the dart, she sets a few empty bottles aside before removing her scarf, and jacket. With another tie, that floofy hair is pulled back into a ball of a tail, and the petite mambo sets to work cleaning up. Boom found, she passes it to Hope.

"Did dey get y' 'gain?" She questions Domino, pointing idly at her fresh wounds before looking Victor's way. "Vict'r, dat dart. C'n y'smell it f'me? Get a scent off it?" I wanna find de one dat shot it."


"Darts now? That's just rude," the man comments, but he moves forward apparently satisfied with the little introduction and reaching to take the dart for himself, sniffing it a little. Who knows, maybe he could get a scent off the projectile, or at the very least an idea of what was loaded into it. "Only four?" he comments with a sidelong grin at the chance-mutant. "Oh Darlin', y'got no idea trust me." Absently running his tongue over his teeth, he gives the dart yet another sniff before setting it down, crossing his arms as he makes to take a seat for himself. Looks like Victor doesn't intend to help with the cleaning.

"So who y' pissed off enough to have them wanting to take you alive rather then just put you down?"


"Nah..they aren't multiplyin' just yet," Neena answers Lynette with closed eyes. "Just a single..rabbit dart." It takes a little while longer for her to open her eyes and notice Lyn in the room. It's very quickly met with a prolonged snort, then stifled giggles. "The hair, it's back! Better run Lynnie, it's gonna catch ya!"

The bruised and bloodied albino flops back into the shot springs of the sofa, still laughing in an uncontrollable burst, while Victor helps himself to the dart. Even with the injection long gone he can easily pick up the tell-tale signs of a very potent synthetic compound, definitely not the sort of thing you'd find in a hospital. Not even the sort of thing one would drop a charging rhino with. This stuff was made special, intended to take down some of the biggest and most dangerous game on the planet.

'Game' such as Victor, for instance…

"Oh..just the military… Government. CIA-funded flunkies. Buncha people in a lab tryin'a play God. Usual stuff. You know how it is," she trails off while scratching the side of her head with the front edge of the 1911's slide. One bump of the trigger and there would be a much bigger mess to take care of today. At least her finger knows enough to stay clear of the go-switch.

"Hell. Logan knows. From what I've heard. Smallll fuck-in' world…" Pause. "Hair's still chasin' ya, Lyn."


"Don' tol' y'. Don' be mockin' m'hair 'r m'touchin' dat spot." She wiggles her fingers in threat, but keeps herself away from the albino and to her work. It's a slow clean up, but once Victor sits down, she gets him a drink of his own and brushes through his hair in passing. At the talk of government players, she glances between Victor and Domino, and keeps her silence.


That smell? It brings back a memory or two. Memories only brought even more to the forefront at the mention of Logan. "Spooks," Victor growls, dropping the dart back onto the table and shaking his head. "Great. Thought they'd be too busy with that mess across the ocean to bother…" Then again, they were probably tracking Domino for the moment and not him. It wouldn't take them wrong to put two and two together though, his appearence wasn't exactly a common one.

"They shoot that at you then?" he questions the woman, not joining the hair barbs as some thought goes behind the eyes of the man most would take for a savage beast. That he might be, but he wasn't a -stupid- animal. "How'd they come at you? Openly, or sneaky stuff?"


"But it's just..-there!-" Domino voices in protest to Lynette, complete with an exaggerated rolling of her eyes. In another instant she's nicely distracted by a bandaged spot on her leg, to which she slooowly pushes the barrel against the wound until a little more red starts to soak into the gauze. "Peh. Can't feel a damn thing. Awesome."

As Victor gathers his intel she gives one more insignificant snort, muttering "Thought I was supposed to be the spook…" to herself. The matter is immediately forgotten as she leans back, head rolled upward and eyes closed as she lets her mind swim within the poisonous sea which fills her veins. She's found her alcoholic happy place.

"Yyyyep. Just one. Clean through the glass. Out before I knew what happened. Did you know Lynette here can drive..? Because she can't."

The other half of Vic's question causes her to hesitate, trying to put the pieces and broken memories back together. "Mh..not..really sure… There was that," she blindly motions toward the dart with the pistol in her hand, "total sniper shot. High powered, gotta be air. No fouling on the fins. But..there was this other guy, came at me first. Flushed us out. 'Bout your size 'n shape but all..white. Kinda like ..cheese. Mozzarella. An' I -know- he didn't come out of the December wing, I was the last one outta that program and it hasn't been that long ago that some other cheeseball horror coulda been thrown together'n kicked out."

Still not bothering to look she sort of figures out where Lynette is by the sounds of her cleaning, inclining a pale chin her way. "Lynne saw 'm. Didn't have much to say. Or bleed. Like..he didn't -bleed.- At all. Like cutting cheese." Another pause. "..Crap, wait. That sounded wrong."


"S'always dere, chere." Lyn sighs about her hair, but allows the two experiments to talk to one another. She's paying attention, at least, but not interrupting, or intruding. She frowns at the reminder of her piss-poor driving abilities. "M'learnin'! 'r gonna learn." She promises, but when that'll happen? Who knows.

Nodding, she glances Victor's way and breathes. "S'like a big ol' wax doll. Didn' have de time t'deal wit 'm. We had t'move. De whole floor was jus' fallin' unda us." A pause, "We were at dat sugr'y house, I t'ink. Were dey makin' copies of y'boy."


A snerk comes at the mention of Lynette's driving, but nothing more. Some things you didn't make fun of with the person in the room. Besides there were clearly other more important things to speak of. "Right, so you were attacked by some 'cheese man' and then shot through glass with a dart? Definately professional job then." Stating the obvious perhaps, but more then that? He seems to be mulling over internally. "The 'makeover' place isn't going to be using mutants to defend it. Raises more questions then answers. But I think they must have been lookin' for us…or maybe just you, and knew where you were goin' to be. Doesn't exactly make our plans easy if there's someone who might be lookin' over our shoulder while we're tryin' to get things done with a knife at our back."


Something about Lynette talking about the floor giving out reminds Neena, signaling that her slowed thoughts have come to a boil with a snapping of fingers. "There was something -in- the floor there, too. Do we still have that?" she asks while looking around for the Cajun. "Tell me we still have that." With everything that had been going on she never got around to seeing what was inside the box then ran off with!

Next the turns her head, still well buried within the back of the couch cushion, to look at Victor with a bit of sarcasm present within her features. "I killed a dozen of their soldiers, junked two of their trucks, stole and torched the third. They've got a whoooole lotta time and resources dumped into the project. Yeah..sure, maybe they were ready to flush me down the tubes straight into ol' Emm-Kay Ultra but I was still -their- piece of garbage to dispose of."

"Now I'm an unaccounted for asset. Off the fuckin' reservation. A purpose-built weapon without a safety. And look at me now," she sneers while holding both of her arms high and wide. "Another menace to society with a big ol' 'property of the U-S of A Government' stamped on my goddamn face."

She seems to think about this a little further, arms gradually returning to her sides as if they simply weighed too much to keep elevated. "..Well..not exactly an official seal… More of a rejection stamp'n anything. But..still. I mean c'mon, who -wouldn't- want this shit back?" she states while thumping her sternum with the shiny .45. "I'm damaged goods, baby. Made for a failed cause. Fuckin' TV."


It was well passed time for him to check in, and he is just one of those ahead of his time people that really does not trust technology to keep him looped in. So now he is off to one of the few safehouses he has been told about to try and rustle up some trouble. Not that he ever seems to have to rustle very hard to stir up the proverbbial pot.

The roar of his engine can be head a long way off, the Harley not exactly known for being the quietest mode of transportation around. Slowly he steps off his Harley and makes his way inside. He quickly makes his way through the apartment building, he may not be the size of somebbody like Victor but he looks dangerous enough that most of the riffraff don't pick him as a good target. He stands beside the apartment door and reaches out to knock on it. Standing well clear of the actual doorway as he knocks. At least if they fire through the door the worst that can happen is he loses a hand.


"Join the club," Victor mutters under his breath, reaching out from his seat he'd fallen into to grasp at one of the many bottles scattered around. A quick inspection and a small sniff declares the container empty and he drop it unceremoniously before looking back towards Domino with a few and a scratch of his beard. "That much mess is gonna turn them from interested into outright pissed off. They might not send trucks, guns and humans next time. They'll send…other weapons."

Victor certainly seems to have quite an opinion and apparent knowledge on the subject, huh?

He's about to say more, but Vx's arrival puts the exchange on halt for a couple of seconds as he sniffs the air, recalling that rather identifiable chemical smell. "Come in, 'V'" he calls, without so much as considering standing to check if he's right. Instead he picks up another bottle for inspection before continuing. "Fightin' the FoH crazies and a bunch of state sponsered attack dogs at the same time? Couple of you might walk away with some nasty scratches."


"Wonderin' if they already did," Domino half-slurs in response to Victor. "Mister Cheese showed up at an awfully convenient time, and I don't believe in coincidence. Not like that. Hey..how do -you- know what these guys are gonna do, huh..?" she asks while pinning the bigger guy with her foggy stare. "You didn't come from that facility."

The racket from the approaching Harley isn't missed, just not given much attention. It's a big city, full of lots of people. It shouldn't be much of a surprise that someone out there would still be driving a bike around in the middle of February! The matter is completely written off, right up until there's a knock at the door. This..certainly gets her attention.

Hell, she just about falls off of the couch from spinning around so quickly. Brotherhoodites just wander right on in around here, they don't KNOCK first! When VX opens the door he'll find a badly battered white gal hunkering behind the couch with a shiny 1911 leveled his way, complete with a wild look in her eyes.

Unfortunately for V, her guard isn't going to lower any once she realizes who's about to join their party.

"-You,-" she announces in a loud but flat-toned voice. "You just..stay away from me. I'm not playin.'" Nah, she's just a drunk and injured albino in her underwear. Not playing at all!

She is looking awfully paranoid, though.


"Nice weapon." And from VX's eyeline it is hard to tell just what weapons he might be referring to. He moves slowly as he opens up his knee length leather coat and shows off his own 1911. "I have one of those too." Ok so maybe he was actually talking about the gun, since he clearly is missing a set of her other weapons. "You want to move the barrel of that away from me though? We are all friends here. And even if we weren't the big guy could tear me limb from limbb before my power got to him enough to take him out of the fight. Take it easy."

He lets his coat close around him again making no attempt to go for the gun as he looks around the very messy apartment. He does his absolute best to ignore the gun that could quite easily end him right now, he didn't exactly wear his body armour today. "Did you leave any alcohol? I could really use a drink right about now." He turns again to look at Domino his eyes roving over her a little before his eyes drift over the .45 that could end him. "What is your problem with me anyway?"


"She's worried you'll fart in her direction and she'll drop dead." Victor offers as a suggestion before moving to stand finally. Maybe there was a fridge here wish something alcholic left that Domino hadn't got to yet….Maybe. "She's just a little touchy because the government sent some special operations group down here to NYC to capture her, maybe dead or alive." A shrug. Only that huh? Perhaps it needed to happen to someone a few times before they were relaxed about it enough to match Victor's calmness. That, or being able to regenerate.

"Bit of a mess was made, the 'g-men' might be narrowing in closer on us. Could make dealing with the scum that attacked mutant town messier."


It's kind of like a suspicious cat stalking its next meal. Neena's presenting a comically small profile, regardless if the couch she's hiding behind couldn't stop a single bullet, and every little move that VX makes..she watches. When he asks about the booze she says "Think so. Somewhere. Top left cabinet, maybe."

The next big hint that she's not all herself tonight (and definitely not on a legitimate hunt for VX's head,) comes with his next question. "My -problem??-" she blurts out, suddenly kneeling bolt upright in a way that makes for a much less covered profile complete with an even more humorous expression. "My -problem- is that you're a walking chemical factory, you're my worst freaking nightmare on two legs, and I'm done bein' forced into delusional trips!"

Maybe it isn't as eloquently worded as Victor's approach, but… There's a lot more to it than having 'just' been chased by said government spooks. Her emotions may be running wild at the moment but there's still real fear in her eyes. After that much alcohol she no longer has a mask left to hide behind.


VX nods towards Victor "I have perfect control over my powers, hell most of the time I have to think carefully abbout what I am doing or it won't work." He looks at Victor with a raised eyebrow now, his expression showing how interested he is. "Her specifically or all of us? We haven't bbeen shy with the dropping of bodies lately. It was only a certain amount of time till some kind of task force came after us all."

He hmms and then chuckles as Domino speaks back to him. "Funny most girls I have met tell me I am like something straight out of their dreams, not their nightmares." He is still cautious as he moves to retrieve some booze from the cupboard she indicated. "Relax alright. I won't use my powers on you. And if I did it would be to kill. Not to give you and amazing LSD trip. I'll save that for when we are having a proper party."

He is not an idiot though. He can notice how freaked out the normally ice cold woman is. He knows that look in her eyes and he knows what it is like to bbe on the run, even if she has a more extreme case of it than he does. He pours a couple of measures of whiskey into seperate glasses and carries them back across the room. He hands one to the Albino. "I really don't think this is the best descision. But here drink this. Just promise you won't shoot me or pass out." He moves to sitdown, giving Domino her space. "So what are we going to do?"


"Probably just her to start with, but they're the greedy sort. Anythin' they think will make a good toy to throw at the other kids? They'll try and snatch up, mess around with." Victor can't help but sneer a little at the memory and return with a drink of his own since he hasn't been offered one by the chemical mutant. "We all got our tricks man, and I'm fairly sure they'd be happy to poke and prod someone who's a walking chemistry set. Probably without askin' y'nicely too."


Having some distance between Neena and VX seems to help. Having already gotten herself thoroughly trashed also seems to help. While VX is pouring the drinks she slowly wilts back against the couch, hand and gun flopping onto the cushion beside her as a united pair. "M'tired…" Being that wound up takes considerable energy even when sober!

"They're not after you guys," she confirms after a lengthy pause to sort what's left of her thoughts. "Completely ignored Lynnie. One shot, precise. That," she guestures to the empty tranq dart on the table with her non-gun hand.

Then she's being offered another drink. That's..unexpected. She looks from the glass then to VX then finally to Victor, her expression shifting from surprised to suspicious to inquiring with each change of focal point. Then she takes the glass, because booze.

"I don't care how 'amazing' you think it is, I'd sooner kill myself," she declares in a low growl. Then onto the real matter at hand: "I don't know..but I'd -love- to see Raven's face when she sees what I did with her armory," Dom thinks aloud with the start of a wicked grin setting into place. Not all of these guns belong to her!

Oh yeah, there's still the matter of Victor! Neena reaches up to the side of her face and over-estimates the distance, smacking herself instead of giving her head something to lean against. As nonchalantly as can be she then points to Victor, stating more than asking "You've been through this before." There's her suspicious look making a return. "You've been through this before..and you aren't the least bit worried."


"They may not be after us now. But I am sure that if you give me the chance that they will be." VX grins. "No one likes someone when they have killed a bbunch of their men. And if they are looking for weapons…" He looks around the room "Then they have found them. We just have to make them wish they had never stuck their dicks in this anthill."

He grins as Domino starts on about the weapons "Well all for a good cause right?" He chuckles as he takes a sip of his drink, his eyes closing as the alcohol burns down his throat. "And how do you know what face she will be wearing when she walks in here and spots this mess. She bbetter not decide to be me for a day or she might not make it through the doorway."

He struggles to hold ack laughter as Neeena slaps herself, but he can't stop the huge smile from breaking out across his face. But for now he stays quiet as she speaks. Waiting to see howw the huge man responds to her comments. He is more or less completely in the dark.


Victor gets his own grin out of Domino's smacking herself, but he shrugs it off as he downs his drink and is questioned on his calmness. "Darlin," he chuckles, "Might suprise you to know, but I got plenty of patience in me. I'm good at killin' and I'm more stubborn then you'd believe. Those monkeys? They think I'm dead, otherwise they'd want me back in the fold and I'm done livin' like with a leash around my neck. They try and catch me? I'll kill 'em all. They succeed? I'll keep workin' till I break out, then I'll kill 'em all." Another sip of his drink and the large man smirks. "It's their funeral if they come after us. What's a few more graves dug for us?"


'All for a good cause.' Neena blankly looks around the apartment full of shiny dangerous things. "I may have had some sort of crisis back there," she quietly admits. Eh, it was a time to be surrounded by her favorite things.

The solution to having slapped herself is, naturally, to empty another glass full of amber poison. It's that last hit which'll either set a lady's resolve or see her to the floor. Lucky her, she's still sitting upright! More or less. A thoughtful look lingers (because meaningful thought isn't so easy) while Victor explains his situation. His words brings her right back to the same conclusion she had come up with months ago.

"So we kill them all. I'm a fucking idiot. Hunting them down had been the -first item- on my damn agenda. First item!" she repeats while boldly holding an index finger into the air for emphasis. "And I dropped the damn ball! I'm not gonna stand for this bullshit anymore. I've got allies, resources, a room full of big, badass guns..it's time to take the fight to -them.-"

The emptied glass strikes the table with a resounding *Chak!* and she stands bolt upright from the couch, takes one step forward, then collapses to the floor just as swiftly as if she had been hit by another tranq dart. Several items get knocked off of the table and sent out across the room while an empty beer bottle rolls off of the edge and bounces off of her ass.

It would seem that right now she's not going to stand for much of anything.


VX almost makes it in time. Almost. But alas he only has human speed and reflexes. His arms are held out as Domino slams directly into the floor. He looks across at Victor as his arms slowly lower back to his sides "Well she isn't wrong. And you my friend have to decide whether you are going to come out of hiding or not. Because we need to track these insects back to their nest and exterminate them from the source."

His eyes trace the bottle as it rolls away from her very pale booty. He moves foward very cautiously and nudges her with his boot before kicking her a little harder. Yeah if she was still concious she would be kicking his ass right about now. He shakes his head with a smile. Enemies after her specifically and she knocks herself out. Well she is lucky she has allies. He leans down and picks her up with ease. She is not exactly heavy. "Bedroom?" He asks Victor with a raised eyebrow.


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