Get Cable

February 28, 2014:

Logan and Kurt track down Domino and get her to spill the beans about what she's working on.

A safehouse in NYC

A storage space turned safehouse for the patch-eyed merc.

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

Hours have passed since the Bronx shootout, though not much distance has been put between the scene of the crime, already plastered across the news, and the run-down, unused looking storage area by one of New York's unused harbors. Domino's claimed a couple hours of rest, woke up to the 'kick in the pants' boost of hard liquor, started cleaning her guns -just- so, and is in the process of taking inventory while the solvents cut into the carbon fouling of her favored pistols.

As far as the scenery goes, the single most eye-catching sight in nearly a mile is also safely tucked away within the smaller warehouse. Taking up a fair amount of floorspace is a black '69 Stingray convertible. It's probably best not to think too hard on where it is she found the thing. Stuff like this just sort of accumulates around her, like the machine gun from last night. That's on the cleaning table, too.

Every last detail about this place is organized with an almost obsessive eye for detail, right down to the bullets standing upright next to unloaded magazines and the symmetrical layout of each part. Picture-perfect, like an exploded diagram. Someone might be slightly OCD about her gear.

The harbour. One of Kurt's favourite 'haunts', when not in Central Park, or on the lake in the back of the Mansion back in Westchester. (For an elf born in the mountains of Bavaria with nary a large lake to be found, he's got something for large bodies of water!) Once Cerebro tracked the albino mercenary down to an area, it has to be said that it's a great deal more fun to do the final legwork as 'practice'. Always training, the fuzzy elf is teleporting from wall to wall, window to window, his ability to look in near darkness more than helpful.

So, it's not so much a 'stumble' upon the warehouse, no. It's more canvassing, and whether the Candian needs Kurt's whistle as to contact, what with his own amazing tracking abilities, there it is. "I have never seen such a clean warehouse.. mein Gott… someone should tell her to mess it up a little so it won't draw attention."

With the next *bamf*, there lands a blue teleporter right next to Domino- in her personal space where guns are a touch more difficult to use offensively and Logan is at keen advantage. With the next *bamf*, Kurt appears in the rafters of the warehouse, the sound of the air rushing to fill the void echoing through the room, the scent of sulfur filling the immediate area.

"Surprise, fraulein. We did say that we needed to speak, ja? Only, I'm sure I would have been a little more polite."

It's a little scary sometimes, the resources the X-Men have access to. After letting Neena wander off last night, Logan was all ready to track the pale mercenary down the old fashioned way until Kurt suggested the easy way.

Walking along as the demon-elf bamfs around the harbor checking windows, the old Canadian nods when he hears the whistle, moving to meet Nightcrawler with a dry chuckle at the other mutant's comments, "Maybe you should compliment her on her cleaning. Just think how clean she'd keep a house. Bet she cooks too."

And then BAMF, BAMF, BAMF, and there's a grinning Logan standing at Domino's shoulder, looking down at the guns she's cleaning, "So, about that chaos last night."

Teleporting in right next to a skilled killer isn't generally the best of ideas. Luckily for the Wagner, he's quick on the trigger, himself. By the time he's made his appearance then disappeared to the ceiling Domino's spun about with a throwing knife appearing within each palm, the chair getting shoved aside with more than enough force to topple it onto its side.

First she's facing the bombardment of sulfured smoke and indigo fuzz. Then she's looking up toward the sound of Kurt's voice. In both instances she's positively glaring. "Do I -look- like a polite person to you? Get the hell off my ceiling!"

(Check your corners, Dom…)

Her motions have slowed considerably as she turns in the direction of the smoke once more, now clearing up to reveal a stationary Wolverine. That smokescreen is great for temporarily hiding people-sized objects. She's making a mental note about this discovery right here.

"As thrilled as I am to have my very own fanclub, it doesn't change anything. Not. Your. Business," she declares while pointing the tip of one of those matte black blades towards the underside of Logan's chin.

Yes, she's acutely aware of how bad of an idea this might be.

One of the joys of having deposited Logan right next to Domino is that Kurt is pretty sure that a shot isn't going to get off in his general direction. That, and well, at this point, he's acting as back-up (if not the potential mediator in this, a possible fight in the making) and chauffeur.

"I'm not getting footprints on the ceiling," is called down. "Besides, don't you want to know if we were followed or not? Better vantage up here." Kurt smiles and crouches now, his tail hanging down, looking ever the gargoyle. "We weren't, in case you are wondering."

A soft tsk sounds as Domino turns her attention to Wolverine, the knife coming out ready to tickle the chin of the capable Canadian. "I wouldn't do that," sounds in a German-accented sing-song tone.

Chuckling quietly to himself as he watches the merc, Wolverine shakes his head slowly, "Think we scared her, elf. That was probably mean of us, scarin' a lady like that." And then he's the focus of the pale mutant's attention.

"Now, now, Spot. Calm down," Logan admonishes the patch-eyed merc when she notices him and brandishes the blade his direction. Giving his head a little shake while still grinning, a hand comes up lazily, casually reaching up in an attempt to nudge Domino's hand away and to the side, "Like Kurt says, I wouldn't do that. Be good, or we're going to wind up with a mess here. And nobody wants that, right?"

"We saved your ass in that apartment building, I think that makes it our business. And a mutant running around playing Rambo in the Bronx ain't exactly helping our cause, so it's definitely our business," Logan growls at the dark-haired woman, "Whatever it is you're workin' on, it's clear you ain't makin' much progress on your own. So spill it."

One thing the blue gargoyle's good at? Being a distraction. "That's some kinda creepy," Domino mutters to the sight of Kurt hanging there like a happily grinning inverted gargoyle. It's not much, but it's enough. For someone like her, fractions of a percent make all of the difference.

Back to Logan, she reviles "If you didn't want a mess then you shouldn't have invaded my personal space." All the same, this is a skirmish she's not properly prepared for. The guy shrugs off bullets and has the equivalent of machetes in his forearms, a couple of balanced daggers aren't going to do anything here but land her into trouble.

Logan's able to brush that hand away. Reluctantly, sure, but she knows her odds here.

"I didn't need saving from a bunch of untrained arms dealers," she verbally cuts back. Sheathing the blades with angry motions, she further challenges "Oh, so it's all about the betterment of our species now, is that it?"

This is the moment when the proverbial dominos fall. All of the pieces, so neatly arranged. Collapsing in her favor.

"Does that whole 'curiosity' downfall affect wolverines too, by chance?" she inquires with an upturned brow, first picking her chair off of the floor and getting it back into position before she pulls out her phone. A few screen-taps later, then it's tossed out onto the table, surrounded by field-stripped firearms.

There's a picture of a man on there. Shock of white hair. A peculiar trio of scars running across his right eye. The left one, and the left side of his face, all appear to be cybernetic. Of some fashion.

"You wanna help our cause? Fine. Help me track down this rogue mutant before he does something else to further his reputation as a global terrorist."

She's not so far away from such a label these days, herself. But, who pays attention to those details anymore, right?

"There's a good girl, Dom," Logan offers dryly as he brushes the knife-toting hand aside. "Ain't no reason for us to be fighting beyond your attitude, anyways." The short, muscular man crosses his arms over his chest as the pale-skinned merc backs down and sheathes the blades.

Looking aside to Kurt when the blue fellow joins them on the ground, Logan chuckles at the other X-Man's remark and offers his own, "Stop being prickly and we'll forget about the whole, saving your skinny ass thing. Not trying to put a dent in your pride or anything."

At the question about curiosity, the old Canadian laughs, "I don't do that dying thing very well. Figured that was something you knew, Spot." Lapsing into silence for the moment, the canuck cocks his to take a look at the phone on the table, and the picture on the screen. He grunts at the man therein, "Friendly looking guy, isn't he. That's the mercenary, ain't he, goes by the name Cable?" Looking aside to Kurt, the feral comments, "We could probably help with that…"

Blue eyes shift back to Domino, a smirk curving Logan's lips, "Question is, what'd he do to get you after him? What's this, mercenary competition gone wrong?"

The Canadian's next comment earns him another darkened look. Granted, Dom pulls the 'kiddo' card a lot when talking to other people, but there's something about the way Logan says it which just makes her feel ..damn young. Though, compared to him? She -is.-

Sigh. Her shoulders hang, though she waits for the acrobatic display to come to an end before bothering to respond. "If that looked like a cry for help, you haven't seen a thing yet, 'Elf.'" Then, "Yes, 'rogue.' The man's always had his own agenda. He's made a helluva lot of enemies over the years, caused a helluva lot of damage, and made a helluva name for himself."

Not trying to put a dent in her pride? Slender, armored arms cross together in front of herself, saying nothing this time as she stares at the Snikter. (Uh huh.) As far as the dying thing goes, she mutters a "One can always hope" under her breath, knowing perfectly well that he'll be able to hear every word of it.

"Yeah, that's the name," she confirms, hands now drifting onto her hips and her gaze back to Logan. "What -hasn't- he done? It's all just business. I couldn't care less what foreign economy he wants to trash next, I'm just someone that responded to the call. Send a killer to catch a killer. You're familiar with that reasoning, buster," she verbally jabs while reaching out to slap a hand on the back of Logan's shoulder in a 'friendly' manner.

Kurt bobs his head, and with a shrug, looks to the picture. "We probably cou— oh." He's heard the name, of course- there's a good chance that a good portion of the mutant population has. 'Subtle' isn't a word that could describe that particular mutant. (Then again, he's one to talk? But he hasn't tried to take out small countries!)

"Are you going to kill him, or are you bringing him in for justice?" Kurt's question is aimed directly at Domino, those gleaming, golden, featureless eyes locks onto the pale visage. "Because we won't kill him." Right, Logan?

The old feral snorts to himself as he watches Domino, noting the shifts in her body language and posture. Logan stares right back at the slender woman after she answers Kurt. The mutter earns another snort, "Don't go saying things like that, Dom. I'll start thinking our beautiful friendship went and turned sour."

Glancing aside to Kurt, Logan grunts, "..Right." There's not a whole lot of heart in it, and the canucklehead's attention is back on Domino when she reaches out to clap him on the shoulder, "I'm familiar with that reasoning. And you're good at your job, Domino. We could help find him, I'm sure." There's a pause before the man growls, "But. I've also got a lot of experience being burned over the years by folks wanting work like that done. Who's your contract with? Or you doin' this outta the good of your heart for the safety of the world?" The last bit is added dryly.

The remark about their friendship actually brings a lopsided grin to the albino's darkened lips. There's a small sense of familiarity to an otherwise botched situation.

"It's not a kill order," Domino confirms, very likely reassuring Kurt. There is a look in her eyes that might suggest she wouldn't care if it did turn out that way, however. "Which makes this whole shindig that much more difficult. The man's an Omega level telepath, has resources like I have bullets, and is incredibly difficult to put down, let alone kill. So, yeah, a little help could go a long way."

(Never gonna turn down a free distraction.)

Here she gives Logan another meaningful look, her information 'spilled.' She'll lean forward in order to make eye contact if she has to. In that pause of his, she asks "Happy now?"

(Apparently not.)

"Hell, we're all about making the world a better place, right?" (Don't answer that.) "I'm not all that concerned about who happens to be footing the bill here. Point remains, and if I don't answer the call there'll be another two dozen people with something to prove following up on the job. At least with you guys on the scene, maybe we can do this with a lot less publicity. Maybe even keep some of the collateral damage to more respectable levels."

It's all about proper resource allocation.

Kurt looks between his friend and the newly acquainted Domino, brows rising on that blue, fuzzy face. "You're friends?" Don't mind the theatric incredulity in his voice. A shrug is given again, and his gaze wanders towards the table, all with arms so delicately placed -just so-. Reaching out to touch one, the elf looks back at the pair, "A lot less collateral damage. Like, the Bronx?" He's a little happier to hear that it's not a kill order, but the frown creases when she tells that he's.. an Omega level? A stare is levelled at Domino, and he quirks his head, "This really is the guy we've all pretty much heard of then?" Not some knock off…

A long exhale exits the elf before his attention comes back around to his friend, "This might be painful, mein freund." Not saying he won't do it, nope! Just… yeah.. he's ready to -feel it-, as it were.

The old mutant returns the albino's grin, at ease despite having a knife aimed at his throat a few moments ago. The info draws a grunt, "Omega level telepath? Are you shittin' me? Huh. That'll be fun."

Looking aside to Kurt, Mr. Snikt grins again, "Dom and I've been to a rodeo or two together, elf. Only so many mutant spies and mercenaries 'round, you know." Shaking his head at Dom, he reiterates, "Nope, not happy, Dom. Spill the rest." He grunts at the answer that isn't much of an answer, but doesn't protest it.

"So. Take down an omega level telepath, without killing him. That's gonna take some creativity," the feral man grumbles before nodding at Kurt's observation, "Telepaths are always a headache. Might make it hard to find him the way we found Domino here, too."

Stepping towards the female mutant, Logan reaches to return the shoulder pat, his lips curved into a grin, "Which means we find him the old fashioned way. Either way, guess you can count us in."

('Friends' is kind of a loose term, here.)

"Like the Bronx," Domino confirms while nonchalantly darting one very -fast- hand out to slap the back of Kurt's. The one of his which reaches out toward her stuff, specifically. "Yes. I am actually hunting -that- Cable. I'm a one-woman show, here. Pinning down his location takes proper amounts of vigilance." Among other things.

Might be painful… (Yeah, tell that to the idiots in the Bronx. Or the idiots back in Gotham.) What—! Spill the rest? Dammitall if the Canucklehead knows how her mind works, though that should also mean that he knows it's not going to be so easy. Nothing ever is.

The lone chair is caught by the toe of an armored boot, pulling it over and spinning it around so the albino can flop down onto it with her arms folded over the back. It's not long before one of those fingerless glove-clad hands reaches up to rub the side of her head. "Look. This isn't complicated. The difficult part is getting past his defenses. From there we put him down, 'humanely.' Like tranqing a grizzly. We don't want him going on an Omega-level warpath on our collective asses. I'll come in, check him over, bam, job's done."

Aaand there it is. This army of one is now an army of three. Dom glances between the two then dips her head forward once in an abbreviated nod. "Logan's good at the up close and personal. I can take a shot outward of two miles, easy. 'Crawler here can get me from the roost down to ground level in a foul-smelling flash. Simple."

(Much as I hate being teleported around like that.)

It is true. The mutant pool is pretty shallow, and one may know another who may know yet another. The pool of mutant mercenaries? It's not something Kurt really thinks about; doesn't truly put his friend in that category, even if it's true. While it's not a blind eye, per se, it's simply not the way the elf sees Logan.

Kurt pulls his hand away, but not quite fast enough, and the fuzzy, three-fingered hand gets slapped. "Not going to make any of it disappear," is mumbled, but he does tuck his hands behind his back now. Just to keep temptation away.

"Ja. Someone like him could play with Cerebro… assuming he knows you're looking for him, fraulein?" Which is a valid question. "Does he know someone is out looking for him? Or is he someone who is simply always watching?" Shows one how much about the merc life Kurt actually knows!

"But, I suppose it'll have to be done 'the old fashioned way'." Apart from his bamfing, of course. "I can get in as close, or as far as needed."

Watching Dom claim her seat, Logan folds his arms back over his chest, "Sure. Easy peasy if we can actually work it out like that. What do we do with him once we have him? Tying up a telepath doesn't exactly help much. Keep him drugged?" The old man snorts.

Looking aside to Kurt, Wolverine grunts, "Eh. Figure guy like him always has eyes out. Otherwise somebody would've knocked him off by now." Blue eyes drift back to the albino woman as if waiting for her to agree with his comment.

Drumming fingers against a bicep, "And what's the little bit of info you have pointing at, Dom? He in the States somewhere, or you dunno yet?"

Cerebro..? "What the hell is a 'Cerebro?'" Domino asks, now looking puzzled for a change of pace.

"Safe to assume that he's always watching. Makes sense..considering that he's always being hunted."

Sure enough, she nods in confirmation to Logan. Still, his question is being processed. "If we can get him down and out, I can take care of things from there." As for the info she has… "Narrowed it down to the Tri-City area." Again, details are left out. This is the job that brought her back out to the east coast in the first place. That bit of info isn't useful to this discussion, however.

"Best guess is that he's lurking somewhere within the New York or Metro areas. Probably has himself dug in pretty well, too. Fortunately, the guy's got a real soft spot for pizza," she adds with another lopsided grin. (Yes, I'm aware of my name and the restaurant chain. Don't go there.) "Sooner or later, he'll come out for cheese. What I've rounded up so far is that he's got a taste for Luigi's. Narrow it down to the right area, wait it out. Maybe he's hiding out somewhere else, but I'm willing to bet that he'll be back sooner rather than later."

Kurt gives Domino an appropriately blank look when she asks after Cerebro. If she doesn't know, he's not telling. It is followed up by a smile, however; nothing personal! An exhale sounds, and he takes the liberty to climb onto the chair and -perch- there, rather than sit, his tail up and hanging over the back of the chair. He shakes his head with a hint of sadness, looking to the pair, "It is no fun living like you have to look behind you." He does it too, and he's not even a merc!

Such is a mutant's life.

Now, however, the fuzzy blue elf is more than capable of keeping his mouth shut.. but at the mention of pizza? He certainly lacks the capacity.

"Pizza. Really?" Oh, the joke is there, gleaming in those bright golden eyes. "Does he order delivery, or…"

It's the only comment Kurt makes, however. Whichever way his friend wants to go, he'll be there.

Yeeeeeaaaah. Logan doesn't answer the question about Cerebro either. And he belatedly frowns a bit at Kurt for even mentioning the machine. "Good to hear he's close at least. I wasn't looking forward to catching a jet anywhere."

At Nightcrawler's comment, the feral grunts, "Maybe it'll change someday." Doubtful. But, doesn't hurt to make the comment for somebody else's benefit. As the pizza bit comes up, Logan's brow arches. The joke is definitely there.

And sadly for Dom's sake, Logan is easily amused, "He likes Luigi's, huh? You sure he doesn't have a taste for Domino's?" Grinning, he shakes his head in amusement, "Either way, if he's hanging 'round the tri-city area, can only be a matter of time before a fella like him pops up."

Here, in this moment, Domino could almost feel some amount of sympathy for Kurt. She's peculiar, there's no question there, but her physical differences could all be cosmetic. Hell, the Goth crowd's never once complained. His situation is quite a bit more severe, however. And yet..despite the blue, the hands, the fangs, the tail, the -ears,- the fur (sheesh,) it's not as ..shocking, as some of the others she's personally witnessed. It's a comfortable sum of its parts.

He may be quite different, though it may not be a -bad- sort of different.

"Everyone's got demons, kiddo. At least Logan here can work alongside his."

So she'll just twist the knife a liiiiittle further.

And there it is. From -both- of them. Releasing a slow breath, Dom makes like she's reaching down to scratch an itch when her hand comes back up with another sidearm, this one very likely loaded and ready to roll. All she does is return her forearm to dangling over the back of her chair, the side of the weapon lightly thunking against the wooden frame.

Just enough to be obvious to them all.

"I've never inquired as to his preference of brand.

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