2013.12.27 - The Choices We Make

It's another late night in Gotham, which means it's pretty much a given that something bad is going to happen somewhere within the city limits. It's like clockwork. Literally! 1 in the morning, time to blow something up.

Okay, so it's 12:53 pm by Domino's watch but she likes to get a head start on things. Keeps people on their toes. So, with the old warehouse in her sights she preps the first part of her introduction.

It's a 1992 Chevy Suburban. Currently it's been tricked out with a brick on the accelerator and quite a number of military grade explosive devices filling the interior.

"Keep on truckin,' kiddies."

With a lazy flick of a hand she pops the vehicle into gear, the lumbering beast lurching forward as it goes barreling toward the main garage doors of the shop beyond. She merely waves as it runs away from her, smirking thinly as she spins about and neatly tucks herself around the brick corner of a nearby building. Whatever the vehicle fails to accomplish she's willing to bet the pump-action grenade launcher tucked in close to her shoulder will finish off.

Yes, she's aware that this is Gotham. Yes, she's aware that it's going to cause problems. But at the end of the day? This is what pays the bills. Not doing charity work for a group of underground vigilantes with a universal no-kill order. Maybe if they passed the three hundred and fifty thousand cash her way before these guys then this wouldn't be an issue.

Besides, both Cable and her are already in the hole for destroying a large part of a Gotham park a few nights ago with the Punisher.

It's a sad thing that the killing in Gotham, the crime in Gotham, doesn't stop for the holidays. Even Christmas Day had it casualities. But, for Barbara Gordon, this has been a good Christmas. Actually, it's been a freaking awesome Christmas. The day itself was spent with family, and today, back in front of her consoles... actually, it all feels a bit strange. She had to find a chair to put in place of the wheelchair Tony Stark kept. And, while it's on wheels, it's... just not the same. She's going to have to look into a new console setup.

But, there's something extremely cool about being able to look out over the city, her headphones and microphone in place as usual. Sure, she has to go back to her console to look at the screen. But she can walk there. And that's pretty damned exciting.

"Oracle," DELPHI's voice sounds in her ear. "You asked to be alerted if another sighting of Domino or Cable occurred. I believe I have a match for Domino."

Babs' face grows more serious, now. She's aware of the 'Punisher Incident'. The claymore mines. And that they were both sighted at it. And that people died.

This means that Domino and Cable are, officially, on the blacklist. Not, mind that Babs won't give them at least one opportunity to explain. She -- she feels, at least -- has blood on her own hands. There's a reason she holds so strongly to the no-killing rule.

But, it's not a habit she wants to see the patch-eyed mutant exercise in her city often. "Bring it up," she tells Delphi, striding purposely (she can do that now!) across the room to her console. "Let's see what she's up to. And if she's got a com, patch me into it."

As luck would have it, Dom does indeed have a com. Okay, so it's a phone and a bluetooth headset. She doesn't need anything fancy for this run, it's a solo operation.

It's also meant to be quick. Very quick, and very dirty. The contract had been perfectly clear, it's a fire sale. All of the cars, all of the equipment, all of the building. Total loss. Anyone getting caught up in the act is expendable. Up to her if any witnesses are left behind.

She's pushed her luck too far, already. What else is there to do but cash in on it?

The pavement shudders with the explosion that rocks the warehouse, shattering old and grimy windows for blocks. There's surprisingly little as far as pyrotechnics go, the detonation compound is clean operating stuff. Heat and force do the job, ripping most of the warehouse doors to pieces and sending the classic and exotic cars parked beyond rolling. Those not caught within the blast immediately start yelling out in panic, some from shock but most from injury.

For GCPD the dinnerbell has just been rung. For Domino the timer has just been started.

A burning tire comes bouncing across the pavement, rolling past the albino as she sweeps around, levels the launcher, and--gets a phonecall.

"Oh, sonuva--Yeah, whaddya want? This is kind of a bad time."

"Is it?" Oracle's digital voice drips with sarcasm -- an impressive feat, actually, for the androgynous tonal shifting algorithm. "I'm so sorry." Not. Her eyes flash as she watches the warehouse go up in flames and, switching the com to mute, she swears. Then it switches back on.

The androgynous voice is grim. "We need to talk."

"Oh. It's you," Domino replies with an equal lack of enthusiasm. Yeah, she was expecting this call. "Listen, if this is about what happened in the park a few nights ago? Not my idea."

Here she interrupts herself with the THOOMP! of the launcher firing once, quickly followed by another explosion from further away.

Her voice returns while sliding the fore-end forward then back, chambering another shell as the case from the first one drops heavily at her feet. "I've known the guy. Thought I'd do him a favor. I had -no- idea the place was rigged with landmines, we were just --"

Shooting to kill?

"--Trying to stop a ..very large number of threats." Yeah, that'll do!

THOOMP-BLAM!

The hood of a classic Corvette cartwheels through the air, crashing back to the street two dozen feet away from where the woman stands. It had been cherry red at one point in its life.

"He's not exactly known for having high levels of finesse, we probably kept things from getting too far out of hand."

To Domino: "Uh-huh." Babs watches the further destruction.

Mute.

To DELPHI: "What's the collateral damage there?" At 1am, she's hoping the place is deserted. "Do we have a thermal scan from before the blast? And pull me up the file on Castle again."

Not, mind, that she doesn't have it memorized.

She unmutes. "I'll buy that things might have been worse without you and the big guy there, but you better not be forgetting our deal, Domino. Or Gotham is going to become an extremely uncomfortable place for you..."

Technically, the building -should- have been deserted.

In reality, it wasn't.

The late night crew, doing illegal work off of the clock, the place barely shuts down altogether. This means that there are people inside, though at this rate there won't be for long.

"We both know it wasn't going to last, Shodan," Dom replies without any sense of humor in her tone. It's punctuated by the third shell darting across the way, catching the engine of another car. This one as it's trying to escape the madness, the full number of occupants unknown as it flips forward and crashes down onto its already chopped down roof.

Collateral damage is ..rapidly rising. Not everything is immediately visible, though each shockwave breaks apart mortar, cracks concrete, loosens metal fittings. High powered charges are being used, quite liberally.

"It's been fun, but you already knew I wasn't the hero type. As connected as you are you probably know more about me than I do."

Here the launcher gets swung across her back, drawing a pair of sidearms as she starts briskly walking toward the ruined warehouse.

Cleanup.

"In case this is the last time we share one of these moments remember that I'm not the -bad- guy, either. I'm just the chick that's stuck in the middle trying to get by. Go ahead and run these faces, no one's innocent here." Herself included.

"Thermal imaging from before the first explosion suggests there were as many as 12 people in the building at the time. Three occupants were in the last vehicle that exploded. Force and blast pattern suggests the presence of explosive materials within the cab and trunk of the vehicle," DELPHI reports. Babs' eyes dart to the playback.

"Get me IDs, DELPHI," Babs says, her com on mute again, as she speaks to her AI. "I want rap sheets and whatever else we have on them."

Again, the flip from mute. "I don't give a give a rat's ass if they're Jimmy Hoffa and Al Capone," Oracle tells Domino, now. "Due process, Domino. Everyone has a right to due process." Even her.

But, as Babs watches, she can't help but fear that Domino has set herself firmly in the same category as Jason Todd -- she's crossing that line, and willingly.

It's a line which Domino has crossed before, both willingly and not. A genetically created weapon cannot change her spot. "Due process doesn't pay the bills, okay? Some of us get paid for what we like to do. The rest of us--" Blam! "--get paid for what we're -good- at doing. I'm not going to apologize because I'm too damned good at this to keep my ass off of the curb or worse."

Due process... Blam! "You can mark that one under self defense, by the way."

"Now, we could get all philosophical on how we've chosen our own paths for ourselves and whatnot but that'd be wasting time. I gave you forward notice with the park incident, that's more than I'd give anyone else. You've got your own gig to look after, I get it--" Blam! "--if I'm now in your crosshairs. I'll tell you one thing, though."

"If I ever happen to find out who you are, I'm not going to be gunning for you."

Not unless the bounty's high enough, anyway.

Babs expression turns grim. The peace offering -- such as it is -- doesn't go unnoticed. "Domino," she says, the androgynous voice reflecting, somehow, her weariness and frustration, "Don't do this. Not in Gotham. I don't give a rat's ass what you do in Metropolis or anywhere else, for that matter. That was the deal: I can ignore that, if you don't bring it here. I can't ignore it, here. And, even if I did, the Batman won't."

Nevermind her father.

"No offense, Shodan, but I've seen this place," Domino calmly counters while lining up the glowing pistol sights on the back of the last man standing. While he's trying to flee, no less.

It doesn't end well for him.

"Gotham can use all of the help it can get. Ignore it or don't, but don't waste too many of your resources chasing another ghost."

Weapons are tucked away as she turns to leave the sight of the short-lived massacre, leaving nothing but corpses and burning wreckage behind.

"You guys have way bigger problems than me."

"Don't--" BLAM. The last man goes down and Babs can't even pretend it's anything but cold-blooded murder. He's shot in the back. While fleeing.

She closes her eyes and her head falls forward in defeat. Domino's made her choice.

Mute. "Sonuva..."

Her head rises, expression grim. She looks over to the 'shrine' in the corner, where her old batsuit stands. Taking a step towards it, she only stops because her knees buckle briefly. She catches herself on a console and swears again.

Unmute. "Alright. You've made your choice. But take my advice, Domino. Get out of Gotham before sunrise. That's as long as I can give you." And she hangs up.

Because there's nothing more to say to her.

"DELPHI, prep that footage, along with our file on Neena Thurman, and flag it for Bruce and the boys. Send a message to my father to advise him of the presence of an Interpol-wanted terrorist in the city with a Do Not Approach advisory."

She straightens.

"If anyone's going to bring her in, it needs to be me."