The High Road Tavern

March 07, 2014:

Cerebro manages to track down another mutant. She'd much rather not be found, thank you. (Language Warning)

The High Road Tavern, Colorado

A cozy little tavern out in the Rocky Mountains.


NPCs: The Bamfs


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Some time has passed since Domino pulled her fast one on three other mutants. She's since changed vehicles several times, taken a virtually random path across America's highway network, fulfilled the contract, gotten her payout, then taken back to the roads yet again. Ultimately it's brought her to the High Road Tavern, tucked away within the snowy mountains of Colorado.

It's another late night. She's beaten out two other truckers at a game or five of Darts, which more than covers the healthy tab that she's been clocking. With darkness overtaking the Rockies and most of the other patrons having long since moved onward, Dom's one of three yet remaining.

The bartender looks anxious to go home, but with the amount of business he's scored from the albino alone he's willing to practice patience for a little while longer.

Spread out before the Luckbender is a crisp new roadmap. Some Jameson whiskey remains within her current glass, never far away from one of her hands as she mentally plots out her next course. Give it another fifteen-odd minutes and she, too, will be on her way into the night.


The search is on. Has been on for the days since they'd been left behind.

Kurt Wagner is more than a little grumpy because of the distinct feeling of being lied to; and when that Elf is on a mission? He's damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

Relentless… and he has resources above and beyond that which even the Institute may offer.

There, at the little bar in the mountains of Colorado, there is a 'hit'. There, in the dimly lit room, there is a little puff of 'smoke', and within that stench of brimstone appears a pudgy little, blue, naked… demon. Cherubic demon. It blinks its little yellow eyes, tilts its head and squeaks, Bamf?.

In the next second, those glowing yellow eyes widen as it homes in on something that is so very, very familiar to it. Reaching out, the blue creature takes hold of the bottle at the neck, and exclaims…


The moment the word is uttered, the little blue bamf disappears in the next second with a quiet bamf!


If not for that little blue demon appearing right in front of Dom, she would have yelled out something along the lines of 'who just beefed?' Instead she nearly falls backward out of her chair when the fuzzy little creature makes its grand entrance, pale blue eyes staring wide at the little creature as it makes its debut announcement…

"Don't you fucking da—"


Domino is out of her chair so quickly that it falls over with a clatter, the loud report accompanied by the clicks of two sidearms coming out of hiding and into her palms, safeties clear. She's already looking for a target.

The other three people in the bar are going bonkers at the sudden display, and of the smell left behind from the teleporting Bamf. They never saw it, they only see the aftermath. The two patrons start to stumble for the exit. The owner dives behind the counter.

Shit just got real in Colorado.



It isn't more than a heartbeat or three before there are several quick reports of *bamf*bamf*bamf*bamf* as those little blue creatures begin to appear all over the bar. 'Whiskey!' Hanging upside down on the mirror behind the bar, one is grabbing a bottle with a chubby, three-fingered hand as another grabs a small bottle with his spade-tipped tail, effectively uncorking it with a suction-cupped finger.


One hangs from the light fixture near Domino by his tail before dropping onto the tabletop in front of her. His head quirks, and with a quizzical 'Bamf?' reaches out for one of her guns and—


"What the hell?!" The bartender is fumbling for his phone in order to call 911. He'd been open late because he had a chance to make a few extra bucks, but this? Now? No way in hell—

"What the hell are those things?!"


And there goes one of Domino's guns. One of her prized Werfel und Reinhardt Zehn Auto-Kampf. Match grade barrel and trigger. Ported compensator. Tritium sights.

Gone in smoke.

"I don't know, but they're valid targets!"

In an instant the albino's got -another- secondary pistol in her hand. This time she's not hesitating. Standing still is one thing which she does not do, twisting, rolling, and lunging about amidst the clouds of deep purple haze as shots go -flying.-

The jukebox skips onto a different track. (Man, I love this song…) A couple of bottles explode into debris and flammable fluid. A hole the size of an index finger magically appears within the center of a dartboard, taking three of her previously thrown darts with it.

It's not easy hitting what you can't see. Even for her. Dozens of tiny, fast moving, and completely unpredictable targets that -also happen to teleport.-

Dom's got enough bullets to keep at this for a while.


The bamfs seem to have found a new playground, to put it mildly. There's whiskey, and light fixtures upon which to swing— until, of course a light is shot out from under it.


As many bullets as Domino may have, those little blue teleporting rats are quick and are drawing her fire. With each *bamf*, the brimstone stench rises in the room. (Too bad it's too cold to open a window, or three!)

Amidst all those little bamfs, there is a larger, more noticible version of that same sound come, landing just at the front door. The moment he lands, Kurt is on the move, onto the ceiling so as not to be shot immediately, the glowing yellow eyes taking in the activity.

"So this is why—"

"Domino!" There she is. Showing his fangs, he pushes off the ceiling and flies through the air rather gracefully before landing and making a grab for the albino merc. "We have to talk, ja?"


We have to talk..? Seriously? Domino's staging another one woman war in a -tavern- and he says 'we have to talk?'

Grabbing at the merc is not the best choice the teleporting mutant could have made. She does stop shooting, if for an instant as she whips around and attempts to slam the weight of a sidearm against the side of his head. If she can stun him then he shouldn't be able to teleport. If he can't teleport, the odds are immediately going to be a helluva lot more in her favor.

Of course, there's another problem. Fast as she is, she's also very highly distracted. The bar owner is not in a good mood. He's also now armed with a Winchester 1300 12 gauge shotgun, which in proper action movie form can be heard with a Ka-Chak! from behind the counter.

"ALL of you, out of my goddamn bar!"


Kurt doesn't necessarily land in front of the merc, no. It's more a push-off after a landing, and flipping backwards while reaching out for a shoulder, is smashed in the head, pushing him slightly off target. He's a little slower in the bamf, yes… but the moment Kurt's moved, so has the smaller versions of him.

"Bamf? Bamf. Bamf.. bamf!"

In a single pop of air, the lot of them appear before Domino, and each takes a little chubby hold of her (with one hanging off of Kurt's tail), and the only answering sound to that - *ka-chak!* is a single, rousing,


The rush of cold mountain air is a jarring one for someone who may not be prepared for the temperature differential. Landing on the top of a mountain, on a ski-slope, the bamfs begin to drop off Domino only to sit on their little be-tailed butts and begin to -slide- down one of the slopes, a few of them still grasping bottles of high-octane amber liquid.



Kurt is a little groggy from the pistol whipping, a touch of blood seeping from his blue-fuzzed cheek. Still, he's got a hold as well, though not as good as he could. Pushing off, he's not ready to go sliding down the side of the mountain like his little compatriots, but instead teleports to perch atop a boulder.


Domino's very quickly learning about a brand new experience which -really really sucks.- She's spent the last few hours drinking. Then the bar got fumigated with sulfur. Then she got teleported, on top of a cold, snowy mountain. Disorientation, system shock, alcohol.


She's deposited above a fresh patch of snow, which completely envelops her as she sinks a couple of feet beneath the surface. Trying to pull herself out isn't working so well. At this point she's just lucky that she didn't throw up on -herself.-

"Leave me..the hell..ALONE already!"

The pale blue hued snow melts around the warmed weapons, though it doesn't do much to help her dig herself out of the powder. She's kinda looking like an overturned turtle, which is not..helping..her mood…

"The only thing we have to discuss is you getting my gun back then your plan on how to keep me from turning your little blue heads inside out first chance I get!"


From places on the mountain, those little *bamfs* can be heard over and over. They sliiiiiiiide down the slopes with the cry of 'Whiskey!', only to find the top once again with the pop of ozone. 'Whiskey!'

Kurt touches his cheek, and his three-fingered hand pulls back some blood that's seeped from the pistol strike. He's not angry, however, and his tones offer a calmer response as his arms wrap around himself as proof against the cold. "You lied to us. Und I think we deserve an explanation." The comment about her gun, well… that could be -anywhere-.

"I am here first, but you know who won't be far behind."


"An -explanation!-" Dom blurts out. Normally she'd be beyond outraged, but the sound of those Bamfs on the side of the mountain… It's just too damn -bizarre- for her to be a little shell of rage and fury.

"Let him come, wouldn't be the first time he didn't see things my way," she snorts while twisting about and getting to her feet. This succeeds in digging herself into an even deeper hole, soon prompting a frustrated sigh from her.

You guys -screwed up my evening,- stole my drink -and- my gun, and you've got the nerve to accuse -me- of lying. Have any of you seen the news lately? Cable's alive and well -and- in custody, the situation's been contained, the job's a success. So educate me here, you annoying blue bastard. At what point have I been lying?" she demands, standing in her cold snowy hole with pistols at her sides and an arctic glare cast up to the other mutant.


"Bamf?" A little blue face peers down into the hole, it's beady yellow eyes gleaming as just two more stars in the Colorado night's sky. Kurt exhales in a lingering sigh before he gets up off his boulder and takes a couple of steps forward to join the bamf. Crouching, he quirks his head to the side.

"You didn't say your job was to bring him to justice, fraulein. So, you shot him in the back of the head, he went down— und he looked dead." And there wasn't a lot they could do before the big guys came, much to Kurt's chagrin. (There's more than a little guilt there.) "Und then, you ran. I find that those that run have the most to hide. Und omission is just like lying."


When that little blue head comes into sight Dom's got both of her pistols aimed at it. If it actually stays put then there will be one barrel on him and one barrel on Kurt once he's within sight. If he takes off again, Kurt's going to get both of the barrels all for himself. Lucky him!

Here there's a forced laugh from the woman. -Running!- A dark looking smirk takes shape upon her monochromed features. "Let's not forget which one of us decided to run first, Blue."

Explosion, 'dead' mutie on the sidewalk, and three of them. Two of which decided to teleport elsewhere. She had planned on them bailing first, it was all part of her plan! They did just that, too. This means that she can jab at them for it, all the same. Funny how things all fall into place sometimes.

"Now, here I am, trying to enjoy a little downtime between jobs when you and your army of pint-sized clones drop in and fuck up my evening. I was starting to like that little hole in the wall, too."


Little yellow eyes widen before the fangs show in the next second. Kurt shakes his head, and the bamf looks to the larger version of itself. "Bamf?"

"No.. not yet."

Kurt is used to having guns pointed at him; like blue fuzz and tail, it sort of comes with the job, so to speak. That's not to say that he -likes- it- not by any stretch of the imagination. And that jab doesn't do much to make him feel any better- he's got a much bigger conscience than most mutants put together.

A frown settles across his face, but his tones are still even. Calm. "You still haven't said what it was, und I think because we 'helped' you," two of three fingers pull on the air-quotes. "There deserves an answer, ja?"


('Not yet..?' Not yet for what?)

Despite the situation, Domino can't help but grin. There's not any humor to be found in the expression, however. "Careful, you keep talking like that you're going to turn yourself into a merc before you know it."

She will lower the guns, at least. For now. The balance is all wrong, she's got a ten millimeter combat custom in one hand and a nine millimeter 'backup' in the other. It's hardly the first time she's had mismatched firepower, but..she's supposed to still have her other Ten, dammit!

"The job was to contain the guy, Furball. Mission accomplished. I helped those SRD idiots do what they couldn't do on their own. The man's alive and in custody. And for the record? I -don't- run."

From her problems. Except when she does. That's for her to know and him to hopefully never find out.


Mini-blue fuzzy demon looks to the larger again, and once more, "Bamf?"

Kurt exhales once again in a sigh and shakes his head slowly. "I don't believe you, fraulein. I didn't then und I still don't. I did this because of Wolverine, und now I'm trying to find the bottom of this story." Though one thing is for certain? The mutant is in custody with the SRD. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing, he's not entirely certain, or rather, whether the mutant deserves it or not is not entirely certain. But, if there is one thing he does know is that once in, most mutants aren't seen again.

And for that sort of 'death sentence'? He needs to be sure.

"Ja.." Kurt looks to the little teleporter and nods. "Go. Und do not go back to the bar. I'll know."

In the next breath, the bamf is gone, and in the distance can be heard multiple *bamfs* to announce their departures as well.

"Would you like help from that hole?"


He doesn't believe her. (Not going to fault him there.)

Throughout all of this, Dom says nothing. Pistols are holstered then arms are crossed, falling silent as she watches Kurt with the wind tossing her heavy trench and spiky black locks about her person.

(Should have pegged him as the sort to want every last sliver of information before getting his hands dirty. Well, either figure out a way to wrap this up nice and tidy or figure out how you're going to put him down for good, this isn't the sort of person you want stepping on your toes at every turn.)

When the offer for help is given, all she does is hold out a hand, palm upturned, her expression expectant.

"And I'd like my gun back now."

He's not going to get a lot of useful information out of this woman.


"I don't know where it is at the moment." Kurt sounds honest, a shrug causing his shoulders to rise, and his tail swishes in the gesture; though there's a bit of him that could very well be holding out. Something he might be able to use later on. Where the bamfs store things, he hasn't yet learned. Of course, there is a very real possibility that the gun is currently being used to help build some contraption or another that the large elf doesn't know about, or rather, doesn't know he needs yet.

"I will be back when I learn what more is going on here." It's honestly not a threat, nor does he try to make it sound one. "I will tell Wolverine I found you und where." That way, well.. they can 'discuss' it a little more, perhaps at greater length at a later time. "Und we'll be watching the news, too."

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