2012-12-02 Casting Call

It was a simple call, from a man who makes no efforts to hide his voice. Orion had been the one instructed to set up negotiations, once all the effort of contacting the 'lucky' mercenary in the first place had paid off. The one who had called you had been right to the point:

"I've got a job for you."

No introductions, no names from his end, just those six simple words, a pause to allow it to sink in, and then: "Pier 14, six o'clock, morning."

There's rarely much to say in these sorts of conversations. Business is usually best handled in person, or better yet through other means rather than with the client directly. Still, someone got Domino's work number, she's not about to ask questions. It's there just for these kinds of moments. Besides, the timing couldn't be much better. Having a job should keep her mind off of things.

"I'll be there."

True to her word, she pulls up to the pier with enough time to spare to find a place to park and do some walking. Unfamiliar client, unfamiliar location, no details yet given... It's the sort of situation that would normally have her calling in for some backup.

Too bad she works alone.

Not entirely a shame, in so far as her prospective employer is concerned. Solitude allows for certain manipulations that the presence of even one comrade can nullify.

When you arrive, however, your contact for this job is leaning against a shipping crate, arms folded, picking at a nail with what looks like a bottle opener, one attached to the rest of his swiss army knife. Seeing your arrival, Orion merely glances at you and puts away his implement of personal grooming, to replace it with a manilla envelope, folded, that he had stashed in his jacket. It's a casual gesture, not threatening, though one might take it for pulling a gun. He does not.

"Job is simple. In and out. Someone with your rep shouldn't have too much trouble handling it." Is that a hint of a disdainful smirk? Yes.

"We want eyes and ears on the Commissioner. You'll get paid when you bring something good. Standard rate up front for accepting, bonus for anything good - and it better be good, because you won't be reporting it to me. Our intel guy hates having his time wasted - he threatened to kill me last night over something he called 'boring'." An embellishment (lie), for dramatic effect, but no one really knows that, do they?

Some good pain killers keep the slight limp out of Domino's step. Black framed sunglasses with dark purple lenses hide her eyes. For all intents and purposes, she's the same old woman she's always been, not one that's recently escaped death on the other side of the globe. There's no sense in announcing the details, particularly not in front of a paying client. She's fit enough for work, anything short of a particularly nasty meta isn't going to prove much of a challenge and she tries not to get in the business of murdering her own kind.

The envelope being revealed is noted but she doesn't make it obvious that she's looking at it, nor making any move to accept it. Not yet. Details, agreement, -then- exchange.

And what a job this is turning out to be...

Dom had been hoping for some combat. Something where she can throw her life on the line, take some insane risks, come out on top. The spying game gets old fast, a lot of sitting around and hoping to have a sliver of gold fall into your lap. Plus, for the -Commissioner?- The money had better be worth her time, high-risk -and- boring. Not a pleasant combination.

Still, she owes Gotham's Finest for impounding her Audi.

"What's the timeframe?" the monochromed mercenary inquires. When would she start, how long would she be out in the field for? With other business on the horizon, timing may be critical.

"Time frame?" There's amusement to that, for Xavier alone knows what reason. "As soon as possible." How helpful. "Oh, yeah. Important detail. Might want to keep an eye on your back; could be some crazies from Arkham interested in him too. You never know. He might appreciate a little bit of help being watched over. Would suck to have our police comissioner kidnapped by one of them, wouldn't it? You hear anything about the people in here," Orion waggles the folded manilla at you, "we want to know /yesterday/. Understand?"

That's when he offers it, whether you accept or not. He considered your question agreement, apparently. An investigation inside will reveal tabloid photos of the obvious figures well known to Gotham's lawful and not-so-lawful, flayed alive from papers that had done nothing more than distribute such images to the paying public. A cat and a bat, neither in a hat.

Oho. This is less about the Commissioner himself and more about the Arkham people, is it? Spying, with a chance of bodyguarding. Neither are her favorite, but with the chance for some danger involved... "Sure are a lot of 'if's' being passed around."

A pale, fingerless gloved hand capped in polished ebony nails still accepts the envelope when it's offered. Just how this is going to fit into her suicide run going -back- to Latveria's up in the air, but she's expecting that to be a one way ticket. Some fun and excitement to eat up the time between then and now is in order, and where else is she going to take on a job quite as (potentially) interesting as this one?

Knowing her luck, she'll get just what she's wishing for.

Plus, there's a picture of a certain bat involved. Dom's expression gives nothing away, but she stares at that image as it passes through her fingertips. She owes -that- guy for her Jaguar. Something of a pattern, here. Usually nice cars just get stolen in Gotham.

The envelope is closed and another glance is passed your way. "This'll buy you two weeks. Watching, listening, recording. Guarding, as necessary. You want to pull the plug any sooner, you give me a call. Otherwise, you'll only hear from me for updates or when the clock's run its course."

"Agreed. Don't be a stranger, though. Remember, no intel, no bonus. You get paid what you show you're worth. You can reach us at the number I called you from. Don't be cute with it, either. That would be poor decision making from someone like you." No need to spell it out, right?

"We'll look forward to hearing from you. Oh yeah. Definitely give us a call if you should, you know, have a sighting. Of either. Why either's present would be even better, k?"

And that, as they say, is apparently that, for Orion has expended the limits of his instructions, plus he got agreement. That was all that was expected, and he learned something as well, if through subtle nuance. If there's one thing his employer values, it's knowledge of others. For himself, Orion will be turning to walk away as though he had every right to be here, which in some ways he does.

Everything seems laid out nice and neat. With one exception. Domino pulls out the cashier's check last, held between her fingers as she eyes you through those dark lenses. You don't need to see them to know what message they're conveying. "Next time? Straight green. You pull this on me a second time and I'm just gonna walk away."

Instinct is telling her to do it -this- time as well, buuut... One, she's lucky. Two, she really doesn't care what happens anymore. Three, she needs the work more than the money. Time and place for everything, and this job just synchs up perfectly with both.

The check gets tucked back into the envelope, her first order of business being to make sure that she gets that money with as small of a footprint as possible. It'll be recorded on security footage, entered into a database. She'll have to go full cover just to cash it. New persona, new look, cosmetics to cover up the spot on her eye and add some fleshy tones to her pale epidermis. It'll be a pain in the rear, but for that many zeroes? She can put up with an hour or two of extra prep. She knows how to play this game, it's how she covers her tracks.

"Yeah. We'll be in touch."