2013-01-30 Training and Graduation

Training. 6:00am sharp. Duration: 1 hour, 45 minutes. Template: Terrorist Attack, Chicago, Ill. Difficulty Level: High

The new form of terrorism in this scenario has come on the technological side. A nameless entity, waging war against the United States, has attacked the infrastructure of America's largest cities, and the X-Men have presumably been dispatched to offer their aid in any way they can. The training session is nearly at an end, but it has been grueling for all involved.

"Go! Go! Go!' Shift cries out as loud as he can, though his lungs are strained from use. He stands beneath the mangled remains of a CTA bus that is perched, remarkably, upon his shoulders. While he was not a mutant with natural super strength, in his hardened matter state, he's become something akin to a statue, unable to move his body save for his mouth. A painful grimace is on his face as the bus creaks over his shoulders, and his hardened fingers have clamped down upon its body so fiercely that they have created small dents in the painted frame. The bus had been hit by a semi-truck carrying gasoline, and was nearly thrown over the edge of a bridge before Shift moved into place and captured it. However, it threatens to topple over at any minute. Its passengers climb down one after the other onto ladders provided by the fire department.

Laser bolts burn down from the sky, looking to attack the bus riders with searing rage. They come from the heavens, shrouded in darkness while they leave scorch marks upon the wet pavement.

Taking a place outside the radius of the bus, Cyclops looks back to Shift, "Hold on, Shift. Hold on." Encouragement has never been the X-leader's strongsuit, but he seems eerily calm. Cold almost. Unnerving to some teammates, but a relief to others. "I'll cover."

Indiscriminately, he unleashes his own, red, optic blast toward the enemy.

This, right here? Unlike -any- sort of job that Domino's taken before. How exactly did they go from a large and empty room to the middle of Chicago with a bunch of people blowing the crap out of the place? The mind has trouble piecing things together. Fortunately, instinct still knows what to do. Once trouble started to fly, the rest fell into place on its own.

Now it's a matter of defense. Shift is handling civilian evacuation, but there's a tanker truck full of combustable material sitting close enough that one well-placed shot could cause the whole thing to go up in a most dramatic fashion. One-Eye's got them covered from the air. She can handle ground defenses.

That she's getting all cozy with the back end of a trailer full of gasoline while engaging in a heated firefight isn't lost to her, reflexively flinching as a laser sears the air right between her calves, vaporizing a neat line through most of the tires on her side of the trailer, causing it to loom that much further over her head.

"Screw that!" she yells back to the other mutants amidst staggered pistol fire. "We're on borrowed time!" Assess, line up, -BAM!- One of her shots smacks against a fire hydrant, whizzing off to catch an opponent in the gut even as the broken valve sprays a jet of water and mist across the street.

Some of that water starts to slip down the bus's exterior. Shift looks on with grinding teeth and a fury in his mismatched eyes as the last two people, a businessman and the bus driver, who valiantly let everyone else leave first, start to make their way onto the ladder truck. Beneath the mask covering half his face, the fury is only visible in the way his lips snarl. Maintaining his solidified form takes almost all the anger and rage he can safely muster, and he can feel himself slipping.

Both his fingers against the water, and his soul against his willpower.

The bus slips against him, and he gasps. His head darts over toward the ladder truck operator, who sees it as well. The public servant, keeping his wits about him, begins swinging the ladder out of the way while the businessmen hold on for dear life. And then, with another gasp of release, Shift lets the bus go.

A cacophony of twisted metal and busting glass joins the fray as the bus crashes to the ground, but fortunately, none of the civilians were injured.

Where's Shift? Seemingly gone!

Cyclops' mild concern is quickly put to the side. He knows what Shift is capable of and what ability the mysterious man from Africa has. He is not concerned. Shift is a big boy. He can take care of himself. "Take cover!" Cyclops yells to Domino and uses the pedestrians escape as a reason to take cover now himself; no more need to draw fire.

Cyclops ducks behind an office building and eyes the sky, still looking for combatants.

Every time Dom sees Shift he seems to have learned some fancy new trick. It's almost enough to make her question her own abilities, which matured years ago and seem to have remained level for all of this time. The kid's scary, and getting worse. By comparison, all she can do is play the odds.

Another shot ricochets off of an enemy's visor, shattering the polycarbonate panel before smacking against his buddy's protected skull, then sailing toward the heavens with a sharp -Twang!- where it proceeds to wreak more havoc with one of the flying baddies.

"Oh, -shi--" Dom leaps out from cover as the bus starts to fall, diving and rolling through a hail of incoming laser shots on her way to cover behind an already trashed auto. Another beam melts a streak across the windshield, safety glass fracturing from the intense heat.

As for that 'lost' bullet? A dead soldier suddenly drops from the sky, landing with a crunch upon the pavement on the opposite side of the car. "You'd think these guys held a grudge or something!"

Tendrils of smoke billow out from beneath the crashed bus, and after a few moments, they form a pillar of swirling gas that soon becomes Shift again. There is a momentary pause as he collects himself, chest heaving with exertion, but Scott's command snaps him back into motion.

Taking cover just next to the wrecked bus itself, Shift looks on as the lasers suddenly stop pouring down from above. The sound of powerful jet engines suddenly dies, and all sign of enemy combat disappears.

It's almost as if the war suddenly stopped, only to be replaced by the sound of police sirens, fires burning, and people crying.

"End simulation," speaks an ironically calm, female voice, and then, the holographic cinematics begin to fade.

"Christ," curses the African as he stands up from where the bus is disintegrating into thin air. "I really hope -dat- nevah actually happens."

Cyclops chuckles and gives a lopsided grin as he gives Shift's shoulder a friendly clasp. "Not bad for a guy we haven't put through weight training yet." He gives an upwards nod to Domino. Certainly, he's had his own reservations about her. A mercenary. A killer. But many of the X-men had difficult beginnings and have persevered. Shift. Logan. Colossus. Even Scott. Not many can say that the manifestation of their powers injured and killed and did a few millions of dollars of damage to the Omaha skyline. "How are you settling in?"

From behind the car, Dom's got both of her pistols leveled over the trunk with a new target for each of them. Before she can take the next shots, they're gone. De-rezzed into oblivion, replaced with a blank wall off in the distance. The car disappears too, which she had been leaning against before it pulls its vanishing act.

"Whup--!"

A foot swiftly darts forward to catch her fall, nonchalantly standing upright while giving her pistols a quick forward-backward-holstered roll in perfect synchrony.

"What idiot gave those guys lasers, anyway?" she asks no one in particular, followed with a muttered "I hate energy guns."

With the question voiced, she stretches and pops a few joints along her spine, grimacing slightly as the feeling of relief comes in a brief rush. "You guys have got some killer toys." So far, no one's berated her for being a killer. Or for having weapons upon the institute's grounds. Or for using them in this Danger Room thingus. No one's left fingerprint smudges on her car, either. That's always a plus.

"Could be worse," she honestly replies. What doesn't get said is that she's still uncertain of Cyclops' ability to lead. Some heavy turbulence on that front is already being expected down the road. Maybe because she's a loner. Maybe because she's rolled with much tougher crowds in the past.

"Ugh." Shift reaches up to pull the mask from his face before nodding his head begrudgingly to Cyclops. He rolls his neck and each shoulder with a painful grimace and offers, "For de record, dat is -not- easy. Not easy at all."

Indeed, by the way the African is moving, seems his little bus-perching trick has taken more than a good chunk of his strength, and caused pain beyond soreness.

"-You- hate energy guns?" remarks Kwabena, now turning his attention upon Domino. "You've see what dey do to -me-." He splits a look between Domino and Cyclops while a less than pleasant grimace forms on his face. "Tend to blow pieces right off of me."

Shift moves over toward one of the walls, leaning up against it with a heavy and painful sigh. However, his attention remains riveted between Domino and Cyclops as the two interact.

Cyclops shakes his head and chuckles as he moves to one of the walls. He fiddles with some controls and a compartment pops open to reveal a couple of cases of cool, bottles of water. He takes a pair and tosses them to Domino and Shift. "When you started here, I don't believe I ever said it would be easy." He pops open a bottle for himself. "I only said it would be worth it."

The albino suddenly starts -laughing- with Shift's response. He does have a point! "I only hate 'em when they have them and I don't. Nice trick with the bus, though. Color me impressed." Heck, it'd be easy to color her anything at all. White works great as a base layer.

The thrown bottle is swiped out of the air, de-capped and up to ebony lips without any thought being exercised toward the motions. It's almost strange, Shift gets along great with her. It had been nice having a proto-merc in training for a time. Domino came to appreciate his company. Yet, she's glad that Scott found him when he did. In the long haul, this is a better place for the Ghandian. Just because a person can handle a life in the underground doesn't mean that they should.

Of course, he's now dabbling in both. Just. Like. Her.

Fudge.

"So do I get a passing grade?" she asks Scott. "I'm going to assume that by now you've got a decent enough grasp of what I'm capable of."

Even though he's worn out, tired, and in a -lot- of pain, Shift can't help but form a wonky smirk at Domino's compliment. He leans off the wall and forms an altogether sarcastic bow of his head, before brushing the dust off his shoulders. "It helps when you have professionals helping to undahstand one's mutation."

Snatching the bottle of water, Shift gestures with it toward Cyclops in an air-toast, having remembered the conversation well. "I couldn't agree with you more."

The bottle goes to his lips and he takes long, measured drinks, remembering not to gulp it down like his body wants him to. In truth, after his experiences with Domino out west, the training session was a welcome change of mental scenery. That prickly feeling of doing something good for victims, even if it was all simulated, still comes as an appreciation to him.

One might say the Danger Room had become something of a healthy therapy to the oft troubled African.

Cyclops doesn't answer Domino at first, but rather gives her a long, hollow look from his visor. He takes another swig of water and shrugs his shoulders.

"Yeah, you did alright," he says deadpan.

A small grin grows on his face.

"So glad to meet your approval," Dom responds with a good-natured sneer. Training isn't something she's about to complain over, it's just another means of keeping her skill sets properly honed. Being -required- to do these sessions might grate against her nerves sooner rather than later, but on her own terms? No problem.

"I know of this awesome place in the city for a massage," she tells Shift. "Give a ring if you want a ride, think I'm about due for another visit."

"I might take you up on dat," answers Shift. There's another momentary popping of his shoulder, along with a grimace. "Soonah, rather dan latah."

The bottle goes to his lips again for another pull.

"Besides." Shift leans away from the wall, looking about the room with a bit of quiet reverie. "Dere ah some few things I wanted to talk with you about." He glances Scott's way momentarily, adding, "Do you still need me to teach de outdoors class tomorrow? I can be back by den, no problem."

Cyclops nods to Shift, "Yeah. I expect the turnout to be pretty big. There's a lot of interest." He looks between Shift and Domino and is reminded of the grading he needs to get done. "Well, once again, guys, great job today. I'll be catching up with you soon."

Domino simply inclines her head in Scott's direction, running fingers through her matted hair before helping herself to another drink. "See ya around, One-Eye."

If he's heading out, that means that she can conclude some other business. Timing is everything. That, and standing outside in the cold feels like a great idea about now. "I've got the time, Shift."

A mock salute is provided to Cyclops as the team leader moves to depart. "See you."

To Domino he turns next, finishing his bottle of water and then tossing it into a hole in the wall, which carries it to a recycling chamber via a long chute. "Come on," he gestures, "Let's go have a smoke."

The smoking, of course, being more of a reference for her to join him. A few moments later, they have left the base via its secret underground entrance. The cold feels good, for Kwabena's X-Men uniform keeps the sweat and heat flicking away from his body while blocking the cold wind, leaving him feeling quite refreshed. A cigarette is produced from one of his uniform's pouches, along with a battered and old zippo. "Miracle I haven't lost dis one yet," he points out, before turning to face her. "So. What do you think?" He gestures around with his eyes, then forms a little sneer. "Bit funny, no? De whole place? Not really my type of bourbon, but it's safe, and dey have a good idea behind dem."

"Just how literal is the translation in your case?" Domino teases Shift. Cigarette, or black mist? Options are nice to have.

Despite the raised core temp she still tosses the trench back around her shoulders, both so it doesn't get misplaced and so she's not brandishing hardware around the joint. The outside is greeted with a sigh of relief, fully enjoying the blast of chilled air. "Must be your lucky charm," she says without missing a beat. "Yeah, 'funny' is a word for it. Still not sure how either of us wound up getting in the middle of this, but everything for a reason, right? I'm wondering how long it's going to take before someone tries to throw me out to the curb." She's only half kidding. Another twitch of her head and she says "C'mon, I'm parked out front."

Waiting for the two is the fully blacked out M3, which she waits to pop the trunk on until the two are standing only a few feet away from it. Inside is another one of those black plastic Pelican cases, locked. She's got the key, which she pops the lock with.

"Time to square away our deal."

Inside the case is the Sig 552 Commando, fitted with a 1.5x ACOG red dot sight, a total of four magazines, loaded, four palm-sized charges of C4, and a total of seventy-five thousand dollars, cash. Everything is laid out with that nice symmetry that only the borderline OCD can manage to make look right.

The key for the case is held out for you between thumb and finger. "I trust this will see us straight."

A narrow eyed smirk is given to Domino when she teases him.

To the grave, indeed.

Given that they agreed -not- to talk about that little incident in Cincinnati, he does not offer any return fire. Instead, he lights the smoke and takes a grateful puff, before eyeing the beat up zippo. "Lucky charm, indeed. Maybe I should paint it green." The zippo is summarily pocketed, and the cigarette perched between two arched, gloved fingers.

He could tell her that this was all her fault. That contacting Logan to help him months ago was what led him here. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow and grins. "One wrong move, perhaps."

He turns to follow you, smoking as he goes. Considering your joke earlier, for the first time he recognizes the irony of the fact that his one true addiction, the one he's held onto, is -smoking-.

The M3 is eyeballed with another perked eyebrow and an almost malicious grin, as if he was silently considering what it would take to get that fancy sucker in a wreck. He glances your way curiously until the case is popped.

At which point, the cigarette gradually droops from his lips until it falls onto the frozen ground. Eyes blink owlishly, but it doesn't really -hit- him until you offer the key.

"Yeah..." He slowly looks back to the case, eyes roaming over the offered gear piece by piece, the stacks of Ben Franklin's strap per strap. "I would say so."

Domino simply nods her head once and leaves the key within your care, stepping aside to give you a moment alone with your new earnings. Your acceptance is acknowledged and that's the end of it. Business as usual. No thank you, no pat on the back, no 'good job out there, kiddo.' Paid up, and done.

"Might wanna keep it hidden from Cyke, he might throw a fit if he knew about it." Hence the lock and key.

She drains the last of her bottle of water then caps it and tosses it into the trunk for later disposal, adjusting the collar of her trench while nonchalantly sweeping her gaze around the Xavier grounds, just to make sure their privacy is still intact. No problems here.

"If you ever need any gear, you know how to find me."

As for that stack of money? Payment for a job well done. And your silence on the matter.

"Speaking of wrong moves," remarks Shift. Your suggestion to keep it away from Cyke is noted.

Reaching into the trunk, Shift closes the case and makes sure it is secure before hefting it out of the trunk and setting it down on the ground. The cigarette is long since forgotten (he wasn't the only mutant who, much to the chagrin of others, smoked on campus).

For an almost uncomfortably long moment, Kwabena turns and stares you down while leaning up against the rear bumper of your brand new car. He even goes so far as to fold his arms. There's quite the obvious question in his eye, and even though he suspects there isn't a chance you'd talk about it, the question is still there.

Flash back to the lab. The spilling of water, the shattering of glass as those rounds tore apart the living embryos.

"I know we did de right thing," he mutters quietly, voice barely above a dark whisper. Lips part as if to say something else.

And then he silences himself.

"Listen," he says abruptly, standing up and moving until his back is facing the mansion. "Something you should know. Dat girl we encountered on the train?" He gestures subtly with his head back toward the institute. "She's here. Visiting de school upstairs."

There's trust felt between the two. Domino has confidence in you. Faith. But when you start talking about Bakersfield there's a dark edge that sets into her pale eyes, the most subtle tensing of muscles all the way into her face. It's a good thing that you stop yourself there, because one more word about it and she would have stopped it for you. No part of the experience is forgotten, as much as she might wish that it could have been.

Mention of Laura is a good interruption, though. "I had heard a rumor about that. Hopefully she hasn't gotten anyone killed yet. Did you talk to Logan?" She's been debating doing the same, but is it worth the truth coming out as to -how- she knows Laura? Getting impaled by retractable metal claws isn't high on her list of things which she's wanting to experience.

Probably best to play that one by ear.

Quiet acceptance is a powerful thing. Shift won't press the issue, because at the end of the day, he's right. They did the right thing, and that's the end of it. Time for the big boy panties.

"I think we'd have heard about -dat-," he points out. "I can talk to him," he offers, arms still folded. "But if I do, I'll need to know what you and de Cajun with de freaky eyes talked about."

After all, Shift doesn't mind getting impaled by retractable metal claws, but if he's gonna risk pissing off the old man, he'd better go big while doing so.

Domino hangs her head for a while, eyes closing as she tries to plot out a course of action. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have been in that situation to begin with. If you're going to talk to him, we can do it together." Leaving you alone with the Wolverine isn't something her conscience would allow.

Besides, she's one of them now, right?

Who's she kidding. If not for you, she probably wouldn't have brought the matter up to Logan at all.

"Enjoy the toys, kiddo. Give me a ring when you want to have The Talk with Claws and Co." In the meantime, she's gotta hit the road again.

"Fair enough," answers Shift. He unfolds his arms and claps you on the shoulder. "Watch yourself out dere," he says, then picks up the case with an almost boyish grin. "I'll try not to burn through it all in one place."

The motion is returned, Dom managing to show a customary smirk. Everything's alright between these two, which is just how she'd like it to be. "Back atcha."