2013-02-27 Killswitch

It wasn't all that long ago that these two had been fighting together out in the Arctic. Life may have tried to return to normal but some individuals only wound up having more unanswered questions clogging up their minds. In an uncharacteristic move Domino decides to take a stand on one of these issues, bringing her message straight to the source rather than keeping every detail shrouded in secrecy as usual.

Her diplomacy skills could easily use some fine-tuning, but she can have a presence about her when she wants to. This is one of those times. "Am I the only one that sees a potential issue with stapling an underground mutant strike force and a school for the gifted together?"

Scott looks up from a mountain of work and raises an eyebrow as if to say, 'right now? Really?' But he doesn't. Instead he leans back in his chair and reaches for the min-fridge behind him, grabbing out a bottle of water. Casually, he flips it towards Domino before grabbing one for himself.

"I've been thinking about that too," Scott says with some resignation.

The bottle is caught in good time, though clearly she isn't expecting such an offering. Not of the drink, nor of your confession. Dom stands before your desk, doing nothing more than staring at you with those pale blue eyes for a brief moment before claiming one of the chairs for herself. Defensive she could have handled. Preferred, even. This sounds more like guilt. It makes it more difficult to go on a warpath.

"We were blindsided on the beach. Ambushes happen because they work. We handled it as best we could. It's what we did after the fact that bothers me."

The cap is twisted free and lightly flicked onto the surface of your desk, more as an interruption to get her thoughts in order than a need to drink. "This place is a -school,- Scott. We had kids out there doing battle against armed men. -Tanks.- Real war scenarios. We have several people on the team that are already open to killing our opposition. I may not know that much about Xavier but I'm pretty sure that all goes completely against why he built this place and created the team."

Scott brings one leg over the other, smoothes out a crinkle in his pants as Domino speaks, and exhales slowly as she finishes. The bottle gives a little snap as the plastic is broken before the top is unscrewed. He takes a sip, before finally looking up at her.

"I don't speak for Xavier, at least not officially. You'll want to get the specific answers to your questions from him. That being said, I'm more than comfortable with giving you my personal responses according to my perspective." Pause. "Let's start at the beginning--The beach. The fact of the matter is that it's my fault. I've taken responsibility for that and the events that those actions put into place. I can't bring those kids back. I wish I could, but I can't. The best I can do is keep working for what they believed in." Another sip of water. "After the beach, the team went out on a mission. I don't know first hand, because I wasn't there, but I read the report. All of those who attended did so of their own volition. Were they young? Certainly. But not any younger than I was when I started doing the same thing. They do it because they are compelled. They do it because they know that ideas are nice, but action is necessary." Pause. "Fast foward to this past weekend. As unfortunate, and potentially worrisome and traumatic as what happened was, I don't feel for a second that any one of those team members would have preferred to sacrifice their teammates and friends due to caution. And if you ask them again in 10 years, I'll make the same bet they'll say the same thing. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Philosophically you're right. But we don't live in a philosophical world. We live in a world where your throat would have been slit once Trask was done with you."

"And do you also take responsibility for training students to become hardened soldiers?" Domino challenges, leaning forward to fold her arms across the desk alongside the discarded cap. "If your intention was to go in guns blazing then you already have people who are qualified for the task without teaching the others that it's okay to kill these people. Call me hypocritical if you want, at least I can play the ignorance card. You knew well in advance what I am and what I would bring to this place."

"Here's the sitch, kiddo. The recent actions of your team is starting to split one group into two. People like me are on one side of the fence. People that want more peaceful solutions are on the other. The latter group is mighty upset over our recent conduct. You might want to split the team apart or re-evaluate their goals as a whole before it draws that line for you."

"Let's be clear," Scott says plainly. "You'll never refer to me as kiddo again."

Dom's expression remains level. "I call -Logan- kiddo, don't take it personally."

"I don't think you quite understand. You'll never refer to me as kiddo again."

"Stop avoiding the discussion, Scott."

"I'll be happy to have a discussion with you once you show common respect. As I told you before, people with your attitude are a dime a dozen," Scott explains. "You have talent, yes. But that doesn't write you a blank check for authority here. We can have this discussion now, or we can have it later. It's certainly your call."

It's here that Dom sneers, looking almost amused with your response. After a passing of silence she holds her hands up slightly from the desk. "Alright. I get it. It's your name on the door, not mine."

"That's not what I meant, but if you prefer to twist it that way to save face, please feel free." Scott sighs, "Now. To return to your questions. As far as who we brought to the Arctic, while you have ample reason to question the decision, I made a judgement call. Success of the mission, perhaps the most dire of any I've been a part of since being here, was dependent upon overwhelming the enemy. It certainly put people in harms way. At the same time, everyone was saved. That was my reasoning and if I had to make the decision again, I'd make the same one for those reasons. I'm not saying it's right or wrong. I'm just saying those are the reasons. As far as these groups you're speaking about, I don't think it'd surprise you to learn that I haven't heard about any of it. I can't speculate about groups that have no faces, no numbers, and no words. I can only really deal with what is before me. As far as training students to become hardened soldiers, that's what Xavier did for me. And not a day goes by that I don't thank God he did."

Domino dips her head forward and glances off to the side, a set of fingertips lightly drumming once across your desk before she sits back in a less than proper fashion and finally drinks from her bottle. It's one of those times where patience is not within her grasp, anything she can do to keep herself distracted for the duration of your response is worth considering, if not outright pursuing.

As soon as the chance presents itself, she's right back at the proverbial plate. "I'm not talking about -a- group, Scott, I'm talking about -the- group. The X-Men. None of us are happy about the state of things but some are a bit more blood-thirsty than the ones dealing with their own morality of it all."

Then comes the real kick to the ol' head, the woman's ire starting to grow. "If Xavier trained you the way that we're training these kids then you wouldn't have told me to pull the damned trigger in Murybet, you would have done it yourself."

"You had a better shot, and your mutant power is based on luck...right?" Scott chuckles and shakes his head, "Your argument doesn't really make sense. Either you believe that the Professor has taught me well, to well to make that call. Or you think he hasn't taught me well, which would mean that...I guess, by your viewpoint...would have been more willing to kill a man. Either way, I think you should go back and parse out how you really feel and come to me with that, instead of just trying to look for a reason to pigeon hole it into a conversation. If you're upset, you don't need to look for excuses to talk about what it is you really want to talk about." Scott's fingers come up with a shake of his head, "You're asking me to respond about the disolution of a team I've been a part of for 10 years and you've been a part of for 10 minutes without giving me any details. What precisely do you want?"

"What I -want- is for my damned point to get through to you, Scott," Domino shoots back. "Black and white. Some of us are murderers. We don't care. It's everyone -else- that does. If the X-Men are ever discovered they'll be branded as terrorists, not vigilantes. And sure, maybe I've only been here a couple of weeks. Don't you find it a bit odd that I can see what's happening here and you can't? Warren probably never held a gun before we took on Murybet. Talk to Bobby, I can see it in his eyes. Talk to Kurt, he's lost hope in getting the message across. In fact, he -asked- me to bring this up to you because he thought it might have a bit more weight coming from someone that already has blood on their hands."

"So, finally, you've gotten specific. Thank you." Scott shakes his head, "You only see that because they've chosen to inform you of their feelings because they don't feel enough courage to bring it up to me. It's not as though you're clairvoyant, but I appreciate the chest puffing. If people would like to discuss the matter with me, I'll be more than happy to. I'm not going to pass messages with runners like we're in middle school. If they want the unfiltered truth, they know they can get it from me. Again, I'm not going to tell you you're wrong. Philosophically, you're right. But it was a judgment call and I made decisions based on the information at the time. If that's hurt people's feelings or made them uncomfortable, I feel very bad about that. But, you'll pardon me if my bad feelings about other things going on have kind of outweighed them."

Dom's arms move out to either side, "Was the message in any way unclear when I came in here? This isn't a community service that I'm providing for everyone, I'm only doing what I think is the right thing to do. That's something you of all people should be able to understand."

She's probably not the first person to have sat in this chair with an urge to lunge across the desk and deck you.

"There's more to leading a group than calling the shots and telling them what to do. You have to be in their heads, you have to know what they're thinking and how they're going to react. They shouldn't have to be the ones to come to you with this. But, now I'm here. I don't mind doing whatever's necessary to win, that hasn't changed. Just be clear that you're not going to give me a task when it risks tearing the innocence out of anyone living within these walls, because the first time that a student thinks murder is a good idea from anything that I've done, I'm gone."

"Domino," Scott says. "Seriously. You're going to give me tips on leadership? You've been part of a team-what-once in your life?" He shakes his head, "They shouldn't have to be the ones to come to me with this. Listen to yourself. Look at the words. The way we do things here is through open communication. It's hard. It takes courage. But so does the world if you want to make a change." Scott nods, "Your decision to stay or go is yours. It seems like you're hoping that I beg you to stay or am able to give you a hollow promise based on being able to predict the future. I can't. I'm also not going to clear decisions through you. If that's something you need, then that's something you need to think about."

A thin smirk slips back across Dom's blacked out lips, though it's lacking in humor. "No, but feel free to keep making assumptions about me."

Another quick drink is followed by re-capping her bottle. "I don't care what you do there, Scott. Someone cared enough to have already done the begging for you, anyway. Go ahead and handle your team however you see fit, obviously no one's going to change your mind. But, no one wants to be at fault for corrupting these kids. This should be common-sense to everyone here, not something that needs to be said."

It's also been enough point-slinging for her evening, the merc-turned-security officer standing and navigating around the cluster of chairs. A quiet breath is released, her tone dropping to something a bit darker than before. "When the next job comes around, you know where to find me."

Scott nods, "Indeed." After she's gone he exhales, rocking back in his seat for a moment before reaching into the bottom right drawer of his desk. He scratches absently at his head.