2013.03.20 - Madripoor Mayhem pt 3

Nighttime sets in at Madripoor. The poor side of the city comes alive with harsh neon lights, highlighting the names of the various bars and brothels. The corners are bustling, food vendors jostling with prostitutes and pimps, of patrons weaving their way through broken street pavement and gravelly roads.

The doors to the Black Lagoon bar swing open, granting admission to one Roy Harper, still dealing with his -first- day in the city, and with a rather grim expression on his face as he approaches the bar.

Behind the bar, the auburn-haired woman with the scarred face glances up, assesses Roy's expression, and sighs.

"You got everything but a place to stay, did you, Bard?" Vasilia Belikova asks with the expression of a long-suffering woman forced to deal with the stupidity of -men-.

Just because the sun goes down doesn't mean that fun can't be had in this city. For many, the evening hours are when the -best- entertainment comes out to play. Domino's already got all of her cards in a row. She arranged for somewhere to stay, she arranged for her initial armaments, she has spare transportation lined up for when Roy's Hot Wheels gets ripped off or blown to pieces, and she's even lined up work for herself. All but that last bit she took care of over the phone on the trip out here.

What the hell -else- was she going to do with all of that time?

Tonight she's sitting at a small round table with three grizzly looking men, everyone with guns exposed, some of them even placed upon the table around ashtrays and half-empty drinks. Everyone has a number of cards within their hands.

Everyone except Domino. Instead of cards, she's wearing a grin. "Well boys, unless any of you can beat -that- I'd say it looks like the lady wins again."

Altogether the three guys start groaning and throwing their hands upon the table, leaving the albino woman to rake in the pile of crumpled bills. "Don't feel too bad, guys. I'm sure it's just newcomer luck."

She's already won the last eight hands.

"Well, yeah," Roy grunts. "Still working that last bit out. I don't suppose..."

Belikova sighs, and then crooks her finger. Come closer, come closer.

Roy, on the other hand, is clearly -not- really willing to come closer, as he shakes his head. Still, the firmness of that -expression- by Belikova inevitably forces Roy to step forward and closer to the bar...

... to be met with a -slap- upside his head. "Damn it, Bard," Belikova says, her musical voice heavy with resignation.

Her eyes shift over to Domino, so busy raking in her winnings. "Why don't you ask her...?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Roy shakes his head. "No -thanks-. I'm just going to sleep in the car by the canal...

Another -slap- rings upside the back of Roy's head. "This isn't -America-, Bard. Go to sleep in the car, and you'll never wake up. You can stay upstairs tonight... no, Bard, you're sleeping in the -bathtub-." Sighing, Belikova rubs her forehead with a 'God give me strength' expression. "Just... go get yourself in trouble somewhere else for now, will you? Tomorrow we'll get you squared away."

"Thanks, Contact. Can I have a vodka? On a tab?"

Belikova -growls-, baring her teeth ferally.

Taking that as a hint to get out of Contact's presence for the moment, Roy decides on a -slightly- less dangerous approach, and heads over to seat himself across the table from Domino. "Hey, Dommie." Eyeing the cash she'd won, Roy grins. "Made a killing tonight, did ya?"

Bills are roughly organized then held down on the table with one of Domino's K-100 sidearms, letting someone else round up the cards and do the shuffling. No one trusts her to do it, go figure!

As soon as Roy takes a seat she tugs the first two bills off the top of her stack and holds them out his way without looking. "Here, help yourself, Bard. Add a couple shots of tequila while you're at it." Because she's paying, he can be her errand boy.

Fortunate as well that Belikova offered him the bathtub for the night. Means she doesn't have to share her digs with the 'Wonder Trucker' for at least one blissful, air-conditioned evening.

"Alright, assholes," a scruffy man mutters around his cigarette while passing out the cards.

One guy immediately lifts his hands up from the table, "I'm out."

The guy directly across from him takes the hint. "Bitch already cleared me out."

The dealer pauses, looking from one man to the other. "Buncha pussies, you lot."

"Whatcha say, big guy," Domino teases the dealer with a sly looking grin. "Wanna show these kids what a proper bet is?"

"Lady, you already cleaned house with these morons--"

"Not what I'm talking about." When he doesn't seem to understand she motions toward the polished chrome revolver tucked under his arm.

He stops once again, staring at her from across the table. "Yer shittin' me, right?"

"One pile of cash, for one old timer wheelgun. Winner takes all."

The dealer hesitates a moment longer before unleathering the cannon, dropping it onto the center of the table with a deliberate demonstration of its mass.

"What is that, a Smith six-two-nine?" she asks, her eyes lighting up slightly. "You hunting traffic with that thing?"

"Sometimes," he growls while motioning for her wad of cash.

Money's back to the center. Cards are dealt. One on one.

Okay, so this undercover mission was proving to be a bit -more- complicated than Roy thought. He was -used- to having his handlers set up everything. Instead it was pretty much -get yourself set up-, and go from there, as if it were a test of his own resourcefulness. Wonderful. And he had to be -nursemaided- through this by a couple of -women- too. Still... it was fun anyway, and Roy's grin is indomitable as he grabs the bills, heading back to the bar.

"Vodka, and a couple shots of tequila."

"Coming right up," Belikova replies coolly, as the money disappears quickly..

Soon enough, she returns with the drinks, pushing them forward to Roy.

"Hey, what about my change?"

"I'm keeping it for your future tab, Bard," Belikova replies, her lips pursued in a thin flat line. Her eyes twinkle a bit as she turns away, as Roy opens his mouth to argue, before he rolls his eyes ceilingward and heads back with the drinks.

"Here ya go, Dommie," Roy drops one drink off in front of her, and then taking the other to a chair to watch. "Oh hell, that's a magnum, isn't it? Didn't think they made them like that anymore."

Hah, and it works. Dom's not going to fret about the change, she's already coming out of tonight ahead of the game. The payout she gave to Rodriguez? Fully covered. Drinks are nothing at this point.

The Dealer never takes his eyes off of the woman sitting before him, apparently not trusting any part of her even as she downs the first shot in one go. The glass is inverted then dropped onto the table, Dom's eyes bright with merriment as she watches.

There's a quiet tension that passes through the air in a radius around their table. Not a word is spoke as the two get their hands into order.

Then, "Ladies first."

"Sure you wanna play it that way?" she asks with a wicked smirk.

The Dealer looks like he could just strangle her to death. He reveals his hand first. Respectable, all in all.

Still not as good as her hand.

An open palm -slams- down on the table with a heart-felt "-Damnit!-" as the Dealer shoves his chair back and storms off.

The two earlier dropouts start laughing and applauding. "'Bout damn time someone took the balls offa that guy!"

"More like an extension," Domino says in a low tone as she fishes the chromed .44 out from beneath a pile of cash. "Competition model. Probably serve double-duty as a boat anchor." Leaning back in her chair she turns her attention to Roy, -way- too at ease for a city as dangerous as this place is. "I'm really starting to like this place."

"Hell of a model," Roy says, reaching out to try and grasp it so he can inspect it himself. "Want to bet the Shelby against -that- pile?" the redhead says, adjusting his tie so that it loosens before he tucks it away in his white suit. "Just one hand, lemme take a shot at it."

The surrounding area grows very quiet, before other patrons suddenly erupts into bets. More along the lines of -how- badly Roy was going to get beat.

Domino hands the wheelgun over, though she says "Watch that you don't shoot yourself, kiddo," as she does so.

Then Roy puts the car on the line. The -Shelby.- You know, the car that Dom thinks is beyond ridiculous and just asking for trouble?

Her grin only grows. "Lucky you made the offer now and not when I already had the keys in my pocket. Alright, you're on. Deal, if you want to."

In the meantime she reaches for her next shot, that merriment still in place as she downs shot number two.

"You're -on-, Dommie," Roy says, as the crowd shuffles back.

Perceptive eyes, ones that could hit a target -dead- on from 200 yards, make notes of the cards quickly as they're turned up towards him for a bit, before being flipped down.

Hands that were quick enough to turn -pennies- into weapons shuffle the cards quickly, deliberately, and organized.

Let's see... the Ace is here, the King must be there... shuffle shuffle, cut-cut-shuffle, estimate how thick the deck is...

Slapping the deck in front of Domino, Roy says, "Cut."

And let's see how -deep- she cut, and... let's see if those cards are there in his hands -like- he expects them to be...

So he was -cheating- counting cards. So effin' what? Given Domino's -luck-, it had to even out, didn't it?

The second shotglass returns to the table with a hollow *Thok* as Domino watches the shuffling. She has an idea of what your tricks are. Some, but not fully. Enough to know that this is going to be one helluva game.

With the deck on the table she reaches over to cut, fingertips touching the edges of the cards, separating--

--coming apart as someone bumps the edge of the table, causing one of the empty shotglasses to fall off the edge, catch the top of his boot, and go rolling beneath the table.

"Watch it, dumbass!" one of the bystanders hisses to the yutz.

The deck's cut. Domino leans back, arms loosely folding beneath her chest as she watches. There isn't an eraser in existence that could remove the smirk from those blacked out lips.

Eyes going -off- to look at the empty shotglass, Roy glances back, just in time to see Domino put the deck back together in -perfect- location. A crooked half-grin forms on his face.

It -figured- Domino's luck had to kick in right there, right time. Still, if she cut it, and cut it perfectly... that just meant he had to remember what the sequence was...

Except, -fifty-two-. It was easier to remember -five- cards, not the entire sequence. And without being sure what was coming up in the first -ten- cards, he had to trust that he would be -lucky-.

... He was so screwed.

Unless...

Ability to turn -anything- into a weapon? Flick-flick-flick-flick-flick- cards right into Domino's hand. Just one little papercut, one little -peek- if she managed to expose -one- card, and he might be able to get out of this...

Talk about a powerplay! Lady Luck may or may not be smiling upon Domino right now, though one thing's obvious enough. She's just earned herself a tiny cut across the top of a finger from one of those cards. "What the hell, Bard! Dartboard's over there!"

Of course, the guys around the table think this is rather hilarious. "Gettin' his licks in while he can."

"He's not the only one thinking about--"

"Would you two just shut it, already?"

"Yeah, dude..did you -see- the gun she just took off of Trent?"

The game's still in play. Dom's got her cards in hand. A cool gaze shifts from her hand to the man sitting across from her. Same story, different ending. She's gonna have to hit.

A man on the other side of the table starts to light up another cigarette.

A pair of white knuckles rap once upon the table.

The man puts away his lighter, exhales, and shifts position--

--right onto a lost shotglass.

The next moment passes in a blur. The shotglass destroys the man's balance, stumbling, arms windmilling as he starts falling right..toward..Roy.

Cards are about to land -everywhere.-

Oh c'mon, luck shouldn't work -like- this. And even as the person starts flailing, and starts falling towards Roy, the ginger archer pulls back in his seat, rising to -meet- the body and deflect the blow, working to try and get him -away- from the table, the other way.

When a body meets a body... Oh lord, what did this guy -eat- to weigh a ton?

Ever see one of those cartoons where a banana peel gets on the loose and always seems to find itself in just the right place at the right time to trip up everyone?

As the falling onlooker is aggressively met he inadvertently kicks the fallen shotglass further into a tightly packed group of large, heavy men who now have two bodies flying their way to contend with.

Tip the first domino over and watch the rest fall in turn.

Another trips, falls, collides into his buddy who tries to catch him out of reflex, thus setting off -another- person beside the pair... It's like a mosh pit, with everything focused on one endgame.

Some of the bystanders had their guns out before they came to check out the match.

Not all of them have been holstered.

BLAM!

The aim is dead-on perfect, assuming that he had been trying to shoot a deck of cards off the surface of the table. Cards are scattered into the wind, most of them completely torn to pieces by the hollowpoint that cleaves into the stack.

It's not a good idea to push back against The Lady.

Oh -lovely-.

Domino just -didn't- lose, did she?

Eyes roll to the ceiling, before Roy tosses down his cards. "Damn it. Okay, want to play this -again-?" No, he wasn't giving up.

"But I've got -one- condition."

Whatever you do, Domino... Don't. Laugh.

There's a good deal of grumbling, swearing, and shoving as the crowd reorients itself. There's at least one cry of "What the fuck was that!"

Even with luck on her side, it's always good to know when to fold.

"Not really."

Her hand is set face down on the table, nice and tidy compared to the ribbons that the other cards now lay in. "I didn't want that car to begin with."

"What?!" another bystander cries out. "-Someone- has to win, we already took bets!"

"I'm not leavin' 'til Whitey goes down!"

"It seems as though we have a small problem, Bard," Dom needlessly points out with a tiny sigh. "What condition? I'm not sure this joint can take much more of us."

"Well, only this..." Roy says...

And a few shots of tequila later...

"Harper, this is the -stupidest- thing you've suggested," Belikova says dryly, leaning against a television stand, as she observes the scene before her.

It was a quiet, private room, which was why Belikova had no compunctions about calling Roy by his -real- name. On the sides of her were clothing. A white suit, a red shirt, and a tie on one side, shoes kicked off on the ground. Armored suit, combat webbing, boots and gloves on the other side.

"And you're -how- old again, Harper? 24?" Contact continues. "Playing -one- hand of cards while stripped down to your skivvies..."

"Nag nag. No more lucky interruptions. Stay like, fifty feet away from Domino. There's -nothing- above us, nothing beside us. Nothing to -mess- up the cards." Roy takes another shot of tequila, blearily putting it down on the table. "And nothing up my sleeves, nothing up -hers- either... and are you -sure- she's not hiding anything in -her- bra or panties?"

"Harper... I assure you, I checked. And I am not in the habit of feeling around other women just for your leering pleasure," Belikova sighs. "And I absolutely refuse to check -his- drawers," she notes to Domino. "YOU check them."

"It isn't the cards, he's been wanting to see me out of my armor ever since he laid eyes on me," Domino cuts in with that challenging grin yet in place. The evening air around Madripoor is refreshingly brisk, at least. Plus she got a few drinks out of it, already.

"What the fuck is it with you and this woman?" Belikova snaps back over standing -fifty feet- away from Ol' Whitey.

"Hey, -I'm- not goin' anywhere near that one," Dom promptly replies about checking his drawers.

"Just play the fucking round, you two. You're both idiots, and -I've- got a bar to watch. Get it out of your systems then go find a room somewhere that isn't here."

"Am I still on shuffling probation?" Domino asks with that grin refusing to release its hold from her features. "C'mon, everyone at the bar knows you've got something to prove. Actually, wait," she interrupts herself while taking the deck and dropping it off to the side by where Beli stands. "-She- can handle it."

"You two are a goddamn waste of time," Beli sighs while reaching for the deck.

"Already seen you out of -that- armor, Dommie," Roy snorts. "Actually, you were wearing -much- less than that in the hot tub."

Looking back towards Belikova, Roy snarks, "Certainly -not- fuckin'. She gets off on shooting -everything- in sight. Chrissakes, she even blew up a -volcano-." C'mon, where's that other shot of vodka... hey, leggo of that shotglass, it's -his- vodka and his tab, dammit...

Deciding to just grab a different shotglass and -pour- more, Roy lifts his glass in a salute. "I don't got nuttin' to prove to -anyone-. Not a sidekick, not somebody's -flunky-... but I -want- that sweet magnum."

Belikova rolls her eyes. "-Someone's- got gun envy," she says as she picks up the deck.

"Hey, hey, fifty feet!"

"How the hell am _I_ supposed to deal, Harper?" Belikova says, slapping Roy upside the head. "Think, Harper!"

Dom sighs in overly dramatic fashion, "Blow up -one- volcano and no one ever lets you live it down... Yeah, but you were too drunk to remember the details, Harper."

He wants the magnum. "We're going to an -arms auction- tomorrow, you idiot." Slitting an eye open from around a splayed hand, she looks at Beli and adds "You don't know the half of it." Lords. "Can we just do this before I give that gun to him one bullet at a time, please?"

Out come the cards. There's zero direct influence from the two, though for one of them influence doesn't have to be direct. Nothing fancy need happen for things to -happen.- By all counts the cards are shuffled, cut, and dealt without any favoritism.

It's still enough. Pure, blind, random luck. Domino wins the game, at the cost of some dignity.

"Now stop putting your fingerprints all over my new gun so we can go back to getting trashed."

"You're both hopeless," Beli declares while stepping out of the room, roughly closing the door on the way out.

Domino retrieves the bottle first as it's pushed her way, topping off one of the empty glasses and downing it just as quickly. "I know."

Then she gets her gun back. 'Bout time. "Don't let it bother you too much, Harper. You're a world-class jinx."

With that business all out of the way she goes to pour herself back into her armor. Turns out the top layer matches the bottom layer, at least in a passing glance.

Black. It's a lifestyle.

"Keys're in the left pocket," Roy calls out, as he gets up, stretching. Checking his mouth for signs of toadstools growing, Roy waits for Domino to claim -her- new possession before getting up to go nab his clothes.

There's a slight thump of his fist on her shoulder. "Hey, Dommie? Thanks for coming. It's like you're -made- for this place..."

There's something about that comment which causes Dom to stop short, not making eye contact with you as the words take a moment to seep into her thoughts.

"I kinda was, Roy."