2013.07.07 - Just a Job

Rush-hour in Beijing is difficult to navigate in the best of times. And there is rarely that 'best of times' in the Chinese capital. The streets accomodate anything from trucks to bicycles, and everything in the middle- goat carts, rickshaws and Fords.

As a result, the gathering for a family dinner is almost always delayed. Mrs. Chang has the table set in their tiny apartment while Jungji, a neatly groomed university student home for the summer and sadly underemployed at the moment is sitting on a chair at the table, laptop in front of him.

There's conversation, certaily. News of the day and the like.. all that simply means there's a little strain in the household. Hints of what could come in order to force his father's hand, though the only son doesn't know much about it. (Much to his annoyance!)

Duh is quiet about work, and deliberately so. Closelipped. Even if his family is jailed, there's nothing they can divulge, and perhaps one day, they'll go free?

Finally, the computer admin is home, and the door closes behind him, locked against entry. Briefcase is set down in the narrow hall from the front door, and Duh takes the few more steps to reach the kitchen, giving his young wife a kiss on the cheek, and apology (in Mandarin) following suite.

<<"Long day. Had to finish the implementation of the new interface for the researchers. I'm sorry I'm late.">>

<<"Well, sit down..>> comes the smiled response from his wife before she shoots her son a look. <<"Get that off the table..">>

Hits rarely got any easier than this.

Every target came to the same place at the same time, on their own volition. There's no sense of worry, no feeling of anything being wrong. They're all in their natural element. For someone like Domino, tasked with two different jobs that both focus upon this same hit, it's a clean sweep. The only thing she has to worry about are witnesses, apartment buildings could be such a pain in the ass.

That she's been stripped of all of her gear before being sent on this mission, that barely adds to the challenge. No dartgun, no taser, no flashbangs, no batons.

No problem.

Jungji forgot to close his bedroom window.

Clad in nothing more than her armor, a climbing harness with the one firearm she's to do the hits with, and full gloves, she scales down the side of the building and slips in through the window unannounced.

Three targets, close proximity, surprise engagement. The wife is the most likely to call out, she's first. The son is second, emotional conflicts will cause Chang Duh to hesitate, giving her the last sliver of time she needs to land the final blow. Like clockwork.

The albino woman moves like the ghost she imitates, fast and silent. An elbow to the wife's temple, roundhouse kick to the back quarter of the son's head, folded knuckles to the windpipe of the husband followed by an open palm to the sternum.

Not a dish out of place upon the table.

By the time the family start to come to they'll find their kitchen chairs repurposed as binding fixtures, the son and wife silenced by kitchen cloths and tape. Chang Duh is only given proper motivation to keep his voice in check, the single polished chrome 9mm pistol set upon the table for all to see. Domino's sitting on the counter not far away, her phone pinned beneath a blackened palm. She looks..casual. One heel propped onto the counter's edge, the other left to hang over the edge.

Casual.

"You're going to be asked some questions. Answer them well and your family will keep all of their fingers. Yell and her life is forfeit."

It's a slow 'coming to'. Not like the movies where even the civilians are imbued with some sort of heroic level ability to withstand an assault. Not every person in China is a martial artist of the highest degree.

It is obvious, however, when Mrs. Chang does come 'round. Those almond eyes widen as she struggles with her bindings, her head turning as she tries to focus on the sound of the voice in her kitchen. Mrfling against the rag and tape, it can only be imagined exactly what it is she says, or attempts, before she turns her head to her husband, similarly bound, but not gagged.

Jungji too, makes it obvious when he's coming to the land of the sentient. He rocks in his chair, wide eyes turning to look at his father. He caught some of the words, but sadly, English simply wasn't one of the classes in which he did well. He's not quite as vocal as his mother, who is still leveling insult, though muffled.

Chang Duh knows English. He works in it.. sends technical reports in it. Fluency was a requirement of his job. And now?

First words out of his mouth are in Chinese, and that's given towards his wife and child. He's trying to stay calm, he is.. but there is a decided sheen of sweat that lies upon his brow. Not all Chinese are inscrutible.. and this is one of those.

What comes next, after his wife and son stare first at him, and then the ghost, is in English, heavily accented. "Who are you?" Of course that's the first question. He's not about to give in that quickly and admit to any wrongdoing.. but he's got to be very careful. His family! "Why are you in my house? Doing this?"

"Business," Domino cryptically replies. "You have your job to do and I have mine. Don't make this difficult, we've got a lot of ground to cover and little time to work. Listen carefully, I won't repeat it again. Do as you're told, answer the questions when they're given. This isn't discussion hour. Stay calm and we'll get through this. Right now you all need to stay quiet."

Showtime.

The phone comes up away from the counter, pale eyes scanning the screen as she taps the speed dial. The screen is held low, angled in a way where one camera looks up at her face from the side and the other would be facing toward the counter, nothing more than a blank image.

Calling Von Bamfus...

As soon as the call goes through she jumps straight into business. No 'hello,' no 'you'll never guess where I am!' One 'hello' from the speaker and she's pressing onward.

"Here's the rules, kiddo. Only ask questions related to mutant research. Don't record this conversation, take notes by hand. When we're finished, keep your information and forget everything else. You've got one shot at this so make it count. Understand?"

Chang Duh whispers softly in Chinese, undoubtedly translating for his wife and son, adding a bit, perhaps, to allow them some comfort. Business, she says.. and dark eyes linger upon his family for a few heartbeats longer before they return to this white.. albino woman. Fascination and revulsion fills his face as he gets a good look at Domino now, listens to her speak. "You're mutated." Close enough. "Birth, or by experiment?" In the years of work, he's not met 'one of those'. And now?

A phone.. a phone?

Questions.

If it's not defeat in the man's face, it's close. "I don't believe this is happening to me..."

On the other end of the phone, the call does make a connection, and there's a familiar, blue fuzzy face in the screen, the glowing yellow eyes blinking as he attempts to focus on the screen. They narrow, and his mouth opens to offer questions, to ask.. and its an immediate move to German.

"What is going--" but even then, he doesn't get far. That tone in her voice; and sound. The tenor.. and he exhales in a sigh as that dawning awareness begins to hit. Something is going on. He just doesn't know what.

"Are the companies beginning to work together in their research?" There's one, and he looks as if he so wants to ask more, but.. what is happening on her end? "What is the primary concern of research now? Offensive, or are they going by a different angle and pretending to be helping mutants?"

Chang Duh looks.. surprised, to say the least, and he opens his mouth, only to close it again.. and he talks to his family once again.. soft, rapidfire Chinese..

Chang Duh's question about her mutation goes unanswered. It's against the rules which she laid out. This is not a discussion. He can wonder about it all he likes, so long as it doesn't impair his ability to answer the questions which are soon to follow.

That icy stare levels upon him, refusing to budge. It's a warning, a silent threat. He should know what will happen if he doesn't play the game exactly as she says.

(This ending isn't written yet, Domino. You don't have to go through with this. Yeah, but if I don't then Cheng will feel that he has control over me. I won't let him win this.)

When the call goes through, when the look of surprise comes through on her screen, Domino stares back at Kurt and very slowly shakes her head. No German. Stay on target.

When the proper questions start to get asked she gently sets the phone onto the counter, the camera staring at the ceiling. Revealing absolutely nothing.

Her attention returns to Chang Duh, one perfectly shaped brow inching upward with expectation. "Answer the man. In English."

(Emotions are such a pain in the ass. If people could just learn to stay focused and not waste time... At least Kurt figured it out.)

"If I answer," Chang Duh starts, but stops, his words dying in his throat as he looks at those blue eyes. Ice.

"It is my fault," he sighs. "My fault.." The Chinese sysadmin takes a deep breath, and for a moment, looks as if he's about to break down. But, with a look to his family, whose eyes are on him, he looks as if he steels himself. "I'll tell you, and then let them go.." She hadn't said if she was going to let them go, or.. anything, but even with him not being in the best position, he can try to negotiate for his family at the very least.

"Defensive," comes as the answer. "My company isn't going for widespread. They're going with a smaller area. But, worldwide. The move to Indonesia was the beginning. In hospitals in remote areas first."

Kurt watches as the phone is moved such that he no longer can see his friend, but rather, is staring at the ceiling. The muffled conversation before he's answered gives him a chill up the spine, sending the short fuzz on the back of his neck to rise. His tones are low, almost a rumble as he catches the actual response, and shakes his head. There's no screaming going on, so no one is in pain, as far as he can read it.. a thousand plus miles away. (He IS in Genosha, after all..)

"Hospitals in remote areas," Kurt repeats. "Specifics? That covers a great deal."

Reading Kurt's voice should be easy for the merc. He's torn. Distressed. Uncertain, and with every step, every word, he fights himself and his natural reactions.

Ultimately, the blue elf trusts Domino. In the end, that is his overriding emotion, and he takes a deep breath, only to let it out slowly. He's been in situations like this, interrogating.

Now, it's back to the man in the chair, and his gaze is fixed upon that phone. It's a lifeline too, given a chance. "Siberia. Mongolia. Indonesia. Kashmir. Ukraine.. everywhere that would be appreciative of a hospital that could handle such.." and he stops before he uses the word 'people', and inserts instead, "specific needs."

Once more, Domino says nothing. If he answers then she won't have to mute the phone and do something truly evil. Inside she's hoping that it doesn't come to that. She doesn't want to resort to such measures, this is supposed to be a fast and clean hit. She's already taking a significant chance by keeping them alive for these few moments, and more so by having placed the call.

There's a lot at stake here. Once again she's playing the odds, hoping that this won't all be just to prove a point to everyone around her. Squeeze the most useful information out of him first, he'll never have another chance to speak his piece.

(What about the kid, I could let him walk..? And prove to everyone that I don't have what it takes anymore? I've done this before. I remember how to. Just motions to go through, a process to be finished.)

When Chang Duh begins to respond she's reminded of why she chose to take these additional risks. So many other countries involved, and this is a smaller area? Even with her in control of five different people in this moment, even she feels a chill of concern.

This is big.

If Kurt's serious about getting to the bottom of it he's going to have to continue to trust her, and not ask any questions he doesn't truly want answers to.

This is how this is done.

Now they're making progress.

Therein lies the problem. Kurt always asks questions. Perhaps not 'now', but there is always a time. Perhaps it's to keep himself on the correct path, the right path, or perhaps it's to be sure that the compass isn't straying too far to the south on others. But there is always a time.

The German teleporter is silent for a moment longer, undoubtedly taking in the information so he can form another question. The chances are better than even that his thoughts coincide with Domino's own. 'Small area' of population, but a large area of coverage. A quiet creep from the backwoods to the city, as it were. And so far, he's experienced the Ukraine. Kashmir. A touch of Siberia. But Mongolia. China's own? And Indonesia?

"What about Africa?" The question comes without a second thought. A list. What he wouldn't give for a list! (But wishes could be dangerous. What is the saying? Be careful for what you wish for.)

"Yes, Africa. Kenya. Somalia. Ethopia." Chang Duh sounds like he's gaining some ground, some hope that things will turn out right.. the way they should. He gets let go, his family freed.

Those dark eyes turn to Domino once again, and he shakes his head, looking for leverage now. "I want my wife freed.. and-and-and my son. They have nothing to do with this." He swallows hard, mindful that he's playing a dangerous game. The phone is still 'on'.. at least to his knowledge. "You have me.. I was going to go to the news about this anyway."

The questions would come. They always do. As usual, Domino knows how to respond to the more delicate ones.

Drop it.

Poor Kurt... His heart's always been in the right place. Sometimes it can be fun to pretend but he needs to not disillusion himself from the truth. He has a habit of forgetting who he's dealing with. So much that even she sometimes forgets what she is.

It's twisted irony to think that such a situation isn't healthy for either of them.

Still the names of various countries continue. This organization has taken root all over the damned place. No wonder Fury wanted this situation taken care of, it's going to take some better planning to cut this bit of cancer out of the world.

(I could make them disappear, perhaps... No one needs to know the truth. But Fury would find out, he's got the resources and the drive. I've got nothing to fall back on out here, the odds of quietly escaping the country with three others aren't good even by my standards.)

The instant that Chang Duh says the words 'I want' Dom taps her phone, muting the mic. The glare that she pins him with would be enough to give the Devil himself pause. "Stay. Focused. You do not make demands. You do not plead. Right now you exist to answer questions and nothing else. If you can't handle it then there's no more use for you."

If he can accept her correction then she'll unmute her phone so that they can continue.

(Which do you think will affect him more, that I'm threatening these people for answers or that I'm making him be the interrogator?)

Kurt catches the beginnings of additional conversation, but suddenly, from his side, there's silence. Deafening silence.

There is a moment when the elf's heart rises to his throat, and there is the soft utterances of the Lord's Prayer before he searches in his silence.

"Hello?" Even if he doesn't speak in German, even that single word is heavily accented. Just as the informant's words sound asian.

"How organized are they? Is money changing hands now?"

What was it the pair had said was their next step? Follow the money. That's why he's in Genosha.

Humanity First, however, doesn't seem to have been consulted in any of this. It's too under the radar. Until, of course, this young whistleblower started to make noise and caught the attention of the wrong people. The right people?

People. With a need to know.

With the muting of the phone, Chang Duh looks almost beaten. The voice from the other side doesn't sound (to him) to be entirely sympathetic. ''It's German. Isn't that enough to tell one that there'll be no rescue from that end?''

Coming into that next stage, the computer admin for that little Chinese Biomedical company slumps his shoulders and looks a pleading expression to his family.. begging forgiveness. There, husband and wife lock gazes before she turns away, her fingers working, trying desperately at the bindings and getting absolutely nowhere.

Still looking at his wife, he simply says, "I don't know."

Here they are, in the lair of the would-be Whistleblower. There isn't enough time to cover everything that he knows, Domino's acutely aware of this. However, he wouldn't go public without having physical proof. She's in his home. She has a chance to search for his data. She may even get a straight answer by asking, but that can wait.

As for these three...

(No. Cheng. Fury. Hell, even Deadpool. They want a monster. It's time they're all reminded of who the fuck they're dealing with. I'm the same person I always was, I've just allowed emotion to cloud my judgement. This is a job, nothing more.)

She set the rules. She's going to stick to them. 'I don't know' is not a useful answer. They're done here. Time to move on.

Domino picks up the phone and brings it back to focus upon her face, ice cold eyes staring back at the featureless yellow ones awaiting her on the other end.

"This conversation never happened."

Without a beat of hesitation she ends the call, the screen going blank.

Back in the kitchen the phone gets set back upon the counter before those blacked out fingers inch toward the polished chrome 9mm sitting nearby, curling around the frame, taking its full weight into her palm. Her dead gaze sweeps across the three forms she has spread out before her, tapping the side of the barrel against her thigh as if contemplating her next move.

The moment he speaks those words, that phrase that is one of those that all non-speakers of every language knows, Chang Duh's son looks sharply at him. He's caught bits and pieces, certainly, and has the deep, foreboding feeling that there's something big going on around him that he'd completely missed. Now, the young university student can see that look passed between his father and mother. Father asking silent forgiveness, and mother.. refusing him. Denying him.

Not giving him that chance.

Jungji rocks in his chair again, trying to get his father's attention.. and makes noises against the baffle now. Is it encouragement, disappointment.. and the moment Domino hangs up the phone, anger flares in the young man's eyes. If his father isn't going to protect them?

Jungji begins to make the noise, to get the attention set upon him. Maybe, just maybe she'll speak to him?

Chang Duh doesn't think so.. and he shifts his gaze to lock upon his son's. "Quiet. You're not part of this."

Kurt, however.. the moment the connection is broken, he can see those eyes. He's seen them filled with laughter, with annoyance, with disgust.. and exhultation. But there? Now?

The elf shudders as the screen goes black. There, in his room in Genosha, Kurt crosses himself and takes out his rosary, ready, as he hits the 'redial' on his own phone, looking for a connection. Hoping and praying to hear a familiar voice on the other side pick up. What cost, then, was all of this? When was the last time he'd seen her.. like that?

Kurt simply can't remember.

Chang Duh watches the albino mercenary take up the gun, and for a moment, it looks all the world as if he'll argue once again. To plead. To ask- no, beg for his family to go free. "Let them go?"

''You want 'feel good', well.. you're in the wrong business.''

''You're tryin' to fight clean an' be friends with everyone an' not piss anybody off. You forgot that you're a mercenary. You're just as deep in the dirt as the rest of us.''

(This is who you are, Domino. This is what you do.)

Chang Duh's plea falls upon deaf ears. The sounds of his family are equally ignored. "It's nothing personal, guys. Turns out you're worth more dead than alive."

Three spaced pistol shots explode through the still night air, only barely contained by the apartment building's walls.

Husband. Wife. Son.

Dom's arm drops back to her side, thin wisps of smoke escaping from the muzzle and empty chamber as carbon-burnt casings clink and roll across the floor. Her eyes fall closed as she draws breath through her nose, momentarily shutting out the scene of carnage that now fills what had been a peaceful, comfortable home. She quickly recomposes herself then holsters the pistol at her side.

Chinese authorities will find it four blocks away in a dumpster, completely wiped clean of any prints.

(It's just a job, Dom.)