2012-10-30 High-Tech Toys

It's another one of those nights in the city. Cold, dark, rainy, not a lot of people milling about. Inside an old, run-down warehouse out in the Bronx is a lone woman standing over the hood of a black Jaguar, looking over a map that's been spread out upon the surface. An LED lantern sits nearby to offer some extra light, helping to illuminate the more critical areas which the car's headlights fall short on. A smattering of weapons are laid out around the map to help hold it in place, though some of the extra hardware has been placed out on display instead of serving as paperweights.

Domino holds a notepad in one hand and a gunlight in the other, a pen gripped between her lips. Recent events have been catching her attention in a big way, as luck would have it she seems to wind up in all of the right places at the right times in order to suspect a much bigger picture is left to be uncovered. Trying to make the connections inside of a safehouse didn't seem as convenient as being closer to proverbial ground zero. The trail began in the Bronx. That's where she's chosen to return to follow the leads.

Recent events have caught a lot of people's attention. Those working the world on all sides of the factionalized shadow war, with motives as myriad as the men and women involved-- then there's others who remain in the shadows still, their plans and resources uncommitted as the struggles continue to unfold. This world is not his own, its history and inhabitants diverge dramatically from what Dayspring remembers, expects-- but it hides the same monsters he knows all too well. War never changes. A bit of extra light is cast in shimmering blues, whites, yellows as a strange fizzling accompanies the spike of energy, time and space distorting around a single point that, if one could slow it down, seems to shimmer about itself and rupture outwards in waves of light.

Instants later, difficult to track with the naked eye, the grizzled soldier that interrupted Domino's field ops for observation crackles into existence where he was not, cast suddenly into shadow as his own light in the darkness is extinguished. As before, he's laden with arms that look to prepare him for a walk-on role in Starship Troopers-- a repeating rifle slung over his back, about the length of his torso, and a pair of heavy, high-tech pistols holstered at each thigh.

The Wanderer is dressed rather simply, sleekly futuristic body armor half-concealed by flowing, thoroughly worn robes of darkest blue, the hood withdrawn in the first moments of his arrival, the sharp flare of his yellow eye pinpointing his presence in the shadow. "You've been busy." Cable observes matter-of-factly.

After the week that this mercenary has had, unexpected flashes of light and sound could mean any number of things. All of them with one potential exception aren't good things for her, either. The instant that she realizes something else is happening inside of this warehouse she drops the pen and paper, swipes one of her ten millimeter sidearms, and spins about in a low crouch to train both the light and the bore upon ..a flaring eye.

"Son of a bitch. -Cable?- A little warning would go a long way before you decide to drop in like that," she states with irritation clear in her voice. Domino goes back to standing, though she doesn't seem wholly anxious to drop her guard completely. The gun hangs at her side but her grip is still firm, her finger still held close against the curved trigger. "I don't much care for being spied on, kiddo. Do you have anything to do with what's been happening around this town lately?"

There's probably no need to direct attention toward two unusual looking weapons resting on the car's hood. One's a plasma rifle. The other, a six millimeter railgun. Unusual, advanced tech. Not the sort of thing she should have in her possession, given the state of her personal armory the last time you dropped in on her.

"What do you want this time? I don't have another job for you to disrupt, no convoys handy for you to help yourself to."

Apart from a slight narrowing of the non-glowing eye, all but imperceptible, Cable barely reorients himself as he returns to the material world with a gun pointed at his head. It's safe to say this is not a new experience, it's even quite possible this is the response he was expecting; maybe even hoping for. The veteran warrior smirks, a bit too self-satisfied for a guy with a gun on his face, as he calmly steps out into the border of the light cast by the reaching headlights of Domino's car. "You're not exactly an on-the-grid kind of girl, you know." It's not really an apology. "This is a lot more secure than the best encryption, anyway."

<<"Confirmed, Professor. I want a new satellite vectored before that one moves out of range.>> It's a busy place inside Dayspring's head-- organic and cybernetic. <<"I am scanning and tracking on all available frequencies, Nathan, abnormal fluctuations are ambient and nominal; thermal scans show no impending catastrophe." "Affirmative. Continue to monitor, interdiction and ICE breaking protocols on standby.">>

Cable somehow sounds certain of that security, barely missing a beat as he steps forward once more, twice, his attention shifting from Domino-- after all, she hasn't shot him yet-- to the weaponry she's got laid out on the car. There's a low, slow whistle. "Why? Have something to do with where those came from?" It doesn't outright deny he's part of the trouble, but. The Wanderer flanks the display then, taking a slow walk around three-hundred and sixty degrees.

<<"Belay that, translate telemetric data into detailed unknown materials analysis." "Continue scanning, cross-checking with databases from all accessible worlds...">> "Disrupt?" Cable sounds halfway hurt. "I could have had it all wrapped up before you even got there, and you're not interested in why I wanted to see you work? It's not /my/ fault you were hired by terrorists as bad as the people they were robbing. You don't want to see those kind of weapons systems deployed by radicals any more than -I- do."

She called him on a precog, probably figures him a psychic, might even be half right; but does he even need to be a telepath to call that one? He makes small talk as he walks the scene, as the Celestial AI linked into his half-a-technobrain carefully considers what his techno-organic eye is 'seeing' here. Along the way, he doesn't really bother to answer /either/ of her extant questions.

"Some of us enjoy our privacy," Dom states all matter-of-factly. "If I wanted to be easy to find then I'd be on the grid, enjoying my Facebook and Twitter like everyone else. Though I guess my being off the grid doesn't apply to you, does it?" The irritation is clear, in her tone and her expression.

The situation isn't made any easier by her missing out on half of the conversation that you're engaged with. When you start walking she holds her ground, those pale blue eyes following your every movement like a predator. One which is still trying to determine if it should feel cornered or not. "I could tell you something vague like 'it might,' but I really don't know what -you- know."

A faint sigh follows, finally turning just so she can keep a close eye on everything that you're doing. Looks like there's one more person involved with this job, now. "Great, so you're an action voyeur. But, if you're so confident that you could have handled an op like that, then why do you pop in out of nowhere to bug me as though you -need- me for something? Unless you're just here to try and confiscate my prizes again, in which case we have a bit of a problem." Subtle enphasis on her words comes forth in the slow tightening of fingers around the grip of her sidearm.

The analysis reads back into Cable's head-- not of particular interest to a layman, but the Askani-trained warleader slows his pace and narrows both eyes on the weaponry in question. For a moment, it might look like he's considering whether they do, indeed, have a problem. "You're not easy to track." Small consolation though that may be. "What makes you think I don't?" Need her for something. "Competence hardly equals omniscience, and you have contacts and intel, abilities that I do not." Also, an accurate /map/. Updating all his records? Pain in the ass, to say the least.

"Impressive technology, possibly prototype or custom research, alloys are advanced..." it's nothing one would normally expect a 'but' to, with the words alone. The way Cable says it, he almost sounds disappointed. Like there /is/ an unspoken 'alas' somewhere in the thought process, indeed. "Energy core efficient; they're high output..." there it is again. The flesh-and-blood right hand reaches out to twist a dial on the plasma rifle abruptly, and a low-level hum Domino likely barely detected goes still in the warehouse.

"You were draining the core charge for no reason." Cable explains with a forestalling hand. "I'm not interested in taking your toys, I'm interested in what you're going to use them for. What is it, the money?" Part of him clearly doubts that. Dayspring turns to face Domino, stepping up closer rather than away from her dangerous irritation-- and sidearm. "You know that's only worth so much, over the long haul."

All Domino can do is stand there and watch, keeping herself turned slightly to one side in a way that presents a smaller target. She's a cautious creature, alright. Usually it's easy enough to tell what side of the friend or foe line a person stands on. Yet, wherever you're concerned, she simply has no idea. Whether it's what you're wanting or what she should expect, everything remains one giant void of unknown variables. It disrupts her personal foundation, something which she -does not like.- And that you're always so damned -smug- about everything..! She couldn't possibly tell you to go to hell enough times to be satisfied that the message got through as intended.

"If you're looking for my help then you've got a strange way of showing it." You're right on one thing, though. She does have contacts.

When the conversation shifts to the guns she nods once in agreement. It's a slow, subtle motion, but it's there. "I don't know that I'd call them prototypes at this point." As you adjust the dial on the plasma caster she inclines her head toward it in a quick twitch, "That one was part of a family. Couple of those were handed out to some guys that robbed a bank in this city a few days ago. They had some other fancy tech. Imagers that could track heat signatures. One had a personal shield, couldn't shoot through it no matter how lucky I got." (Shit, wait, watch your choice of words there, girl!) "The other one was a random find, whole warehouse was packed with hidden hardware. That was my consolation prize for blowing the place apart, hell if I know what else was hiding in there."

Hmmh. "Seems like you're no stranger to anything that has a trigger and a power cell," she off-handedly observes. Then things shift gears once more, reaching the proper cusp of the conversation. What is she going to do with this stuff? Her hands land upon her hips, still holding a light in one and a pistol in the other. "One was an official contract, to bust up a warehouse full of drugs and ordnance. The other, I just happened to be in the area when they robbed First National. Didn't gain a dime out of that one, and I -lost- a potential ally and contact. You really want to know what I'm going to do with them?" she asks in a challenging tone, now standing virtually toe to toe with you with an almost humorous incline of her head in order to retain such positive eye contact. "I'm going to figure out where they came from. And then, I'm going to seriously fuck with whomever's putting them out onto the streets. That a good enough answer for you?"

Hell? War is hell, and even if there are layers to it, circles one might say-- Cable's inhabited most or all of them, by now. It's likely he'd never really get the message, no. The man's just ticking on a different clock than the one that seems to guide more or less everyone else, some days. "Maybe." Cable admits, taking a moment to veritably tower over the nonetheless deadly mercenary and study her through his eyes-- one that of an obvious mutant, the other paradoxically more normal, and less natural. His face is neutral, set impassively as his voice, "Maybe winning friends is less important than being very sure of the kind of help I'm getting."

There's the nigh-tangible element of laying something more genuine on the table than a further enigma; not that it /isn't/, ironically. Interestingly, it's Dayspring who relents, stepping clear of Domino to turn back towards the weapons she absconded with. "I've handled a few weapons." he almost sarcastically understates. "I don't mean... 'what jobs are you taking?'. 'What's on your agenda tomorrow?'. I mean.. what's the big picture? You're smart enough to know all of these war games are pieces in larger manipulations, that the whole world is corrupted by the shortsighted avarice of powerful men."

Smart enough, or at least bitter enough. "Suppose I wanted to fuck with all of them." Powerful, corrupt men. A blanket indictment; not so much a question as a statement of purpose. "We both know how the world turns towards downright shit agendas."

If it ever did come down to this, these two, one on one... Could Domino stand a chance? Only if she got lucky. Sizing up everyone else is part of her daily routine. Regardless of the imposing physical nature that you've got to work with, regardless of the weapons you possess and the bizarre tech which she can't even begin to quantify, it would be an uphill battle. It's a good thing, then, that you didn't come here to fight. Instead, it sounds much like how things had the last time you caught up to her. You're looking for something. Help. -Her- help. But for what?

"You could tell me you were born in a munitions factory and it wouldn't surprise me," she admits, this time with the faintest hint of a smirk. It's short-lived, the next question from you being one that she cannot easily answer. "I don't know." Another slow breath is let out, though she takes the opportunity to holster her handgun. There shouldn't be any fighting between them this evening, at least. "I just don't know."

What comes next surprises the woman, something which she's unable to hide. "Yeah..alright, sure, things are all in the gutter these days and they're closer to circling the drain with every day that passes, but what the -hell- are you talking about, Cable? You want to rough up both sides? Where does that leave anyone? I don't claim to have all of the answers but I do know -that- option sounds like a terrible idea!"

Killing people, winning battles, decimating the enemy's ability to make war-- these are things the temporally desplaced warleader is exceptionally familiar with. Perhaps that's why Cable isn't particularly gung-ho about their implementation, instead possessed of a decidedly unusual pragmatism in the matter. "Near enough to /on/ the battlefield." Cable confides, again frankly. Abducted as an infant, it only went downhill from there. True to the purposes intuited, Dayspring leaves his own weapons holstered, his own posture unthreatening, even once the sidearm is away.

"Maybe we just make them all the rougher on each other." Cable retorts quietly, occluding the extent of his purpose for another moment. "What concerns me is the network of control, the way the operations feed the population, the way all these ass-backwards chessmasters sacrifice their pawns. Where it leaves anyone is with one less layer of grime seperating them from the truth, Domino. The only question is how we stay under the radar long enough to stay off the board, and ruin the whole damned game."

Still far from a complete equation, but at least he's thought it through? "If anyone /else/ is going to have a world worth living in, we have to change the rules of this game. Believe me, I know." He's seen more than one future.

"Believe you? Really?" Domino swiftly cuts back in. "I barely know you and you want me to believe you? And--Christ, listen to yourself, you sound like you're intent on becoming a global terrorist in every way short of officially calling yourself one!"

She stops herself by holding her hands out to either side, then lets gravity roughly drop them right back down. "I feel like you're one huge joke, candid camera waiting to drop me right in the middle of some warped reality show. You're--this--and you're wanting -me- to help?" she presses amidst pinching the bridge of her nose then holding that lone hand out in the air yet again. "We already have a group handling global conspiracies and government-toppling efforts. They're called SHIELD. At least, last I checked. Bastards don't exactly keep a grit-grinder like me in the loop of their operations."

First Deadpool talked about assassinating a major political figure. Now, some teleporting weirdo wants to ramp up that game five hundred percent! She actually has to turn away from it all, spinning about on the balls of her feet then pacing around within the dusty white beams of those headlights. "This is insane. This is ludicrous. I don't even have a word for it, we've officially broken the bullshit scale here."

"SHIELD is a start." Cable concurs, just watching Domino's more frenetic motions with his own calm analysis. "I'm talking about operations no one can disavow because no one knows how they happened. That don't answer to an outside agenda, that don't strictly /exist/ for anyone outside the circle." It's a risk to tell her even that much-- maybe he trusts her motives that far, maybe he's just confident in putting two in her head if it becomes a problem. "Look around you, the world is full of half-psychotics with military hardware, mandates built on prejudice and political agendas relying on fear and xenophobia. All the profits and predictable statistical models of hate." Dayspring may have run the numbers a few times, himself.

"You want to trust the boys in the command structure within and above-- and around-- SHIELD with all the heavy lifting, that's your choice." He doesn't resent it, that much is clear. "I think the only way to get a real picture is for no one to know what you're looking for." Might explain something about the Wanderer's entrances, too. "I think the only way power doesn't corrupt is in microcosm. I think only individuals can be trusted to think things through, and when information becomes secondary to shadow games and racism, there's not going to be a world left to save-- this kind of war consumes, and grows, that's where it always ends."

There's a bit of a shrug of non-technological shoulder, beneath those flowing robes, and Dayspring steps back out fully into the light, "You just have to figure out what it is you have worth fighting for." Even in the headlights, that psychic eye burns bright as he levels his gaze on Domino's.

Alright, so there is a chance that Domino read into things a bit incorrectly. Now it sounds like you're aiming to hunt down shadow groups, rather than her initial impression of you barging into the White House and leveling a plasma rifle of your own at the big guy's temple until you saw some changes in the world. Flash-frying governmental bodies is one thing. Sending a message they cannot ignore by kicking their legs out from beneath them, however..? It adds a bit more conflict to her turbulent thoughts, yet it also provides a sliver of clarity, a more proper feeling of direction over blind anarchy.

It's still going to take some serious explaining before she would ever jump on board with any of this.

Now she leans back against the side of her car, palms propped against the curve of hood and quarterpanel. Any former guard is gone now in favor of allowing her head to hang forward. To think, she just came out this way to try and sort out where these high-tech guns were coming from. Now it sounds like there's a whole new career path opening up before her! And, hell, would it even pay the bills?

"You're going to do this regardless of my response," she says. It isn't a question, she knows better. No, the question here is, what -does- she have that's worth fighting for?

"Of course." Cable's role isn't something he's questioned, at its core, for a long long time. He'll move forward, one way or another-- he knows his target, even beyond his ancient, timeless nemesis. Knows the evils that lurk under the surface, waiting to rule the very world; or beyond. "Take a night, think about it, look at the threads that link these events together, the possible futures of it all. I'll be in touch." There's a moment's pause, a mental <<"Bodyslide by one.">> and just like that-- Dayspring is gone again, in a flash of light and sound. Apparently, her immediate judgements aren't even ones he's particularly interested in.