2013.05.16 - Bad Case of Spinetaser

Cars.

Fast cars.

Pretty cars.

Cars that rumble and roar in one second and purr like a pussy cat the next depending upon how they're stroked.

It's straightforward. Debt owed, debt to be paid. Doctor's gotten a little deeper, thanks to addictions that a six-figure income paid by 'the stars' simply can't support. Note.. plural. Addictions.

One of those addictions, out of many, is cars. Another.. collecting women as eye- and arm-candy. With one, of course, comes the other.. but it's a chicken/egg matter.

In the end, it makes things so very, very easy.

And so, the 'request' comes through. Easy enough pick up. Address is given. Itinerary is given. Times. Even down to the 'who'.. and obviously, 'what'.

1969 ZL1. 69 models made, and most of them made it to drag racing fame before it was discontinued. Years ago, as recent as 2001, the pricetag for one of these was $19k. Now? Close to $100k and climbing steadily.

It's coming to evening, the lights are coming on all over the city. ConEd is aware of a few of the lights out, and in the affected areas, they're.. not all that concerned.

The good doctor is closing up for the night, his car behind the gates of his practice.. and with keys in hand, he jingles them in anticipation of a ride out into the country with 'Janet', his receptionist who is currently turning out the lights and locking the doors behind them.

The sound of the engine starting comes, and the comely, shapely office worker sets the alarm on the building and locks the front door. Time to go.. and she stands on the stoop, waiting for the car to come around.

There is some action further down the road; life in the Bronx continues, after all.. regardless of what happens...

Boosting cars. Domino can't really turn down these jobs. They usually go to the simpletons of the underground community. Zero confrontation, just pop a couple of locks, touch a couple of wires, and make the drop. Few hundred dollars a pop. Not very glamorous, and yet..fun. Though she's not the sort to boost mother's Integra for the ricer crowd. There has to be something more to it. Frankly, the stakes have to be higher.

One classic out of sixty nine ever made, -those- are her kind of odds. The smallest scratch will start to trash its value. The possibility of getting involved in a chase, or even a shootout, are definitely on the very large list of variables. What it all leads to is an evening just ripe with risk and adventure.

The 90's Mustang that she pursues her mark with is chosen not for looks or rarity but for its ability to keep pace while being inconspicuous, and dirt cheap on the used market. Non-essentials have been ripped out of the chassis to lighten the weight and improve response time, a few hours of extra work without affecting the overall cost any. Except for a couple bucks for a hammer and crowbar, anyway.

Following the ZL1 is child's play. Besides, she had hours to plant a GPS tracker on it. -Hours!- This guy really needs to be more careful with such flashy possessions, especially in the Bronx. Though, why not boost it with so much time on the clock? That's an easy one. The client doesn't want a -boosted- car, he wants a -repossessed- car. She needs the keys.

The Doc has the keys.

Some problems solve themselves.

Laughter comes from the couple as they get in, and the doctor drops it into neutral to hear that engine purr.. and growl under gentle ministrations. Pulling out into traffic, the ZL1 heads down the road slowly, more in that 'fast idle' than any pressure on the gas pedal.

Rolling to a stop at an intersection, there are other eyes on the car. Given time of day, and the type of car?

There are eyes on Dom's car too. While it may not be anywhere near fancy, those faces that contain that desire for another's possessions really don't care. What they want is a ride. A joy ride.. and that's exactly what they'll get.

Or so they believe.

The first runs out to the street, then, brandishing something dark and ominous looking. Later, his lawyer will swear it wasn't a gun, but for the time being? More than acceptable to assume so. Particularly when there's nowhere to go forward (with city street traffic and all!), and the side is filled with oncoming traffic.

Dammit!

The doctor lays on his horn even at the approach of two rather brazen young men.. hoping against hope that the noise will deter such behavior.

At the same time, however, there are a couple other young men who must have been in discussion with the first group as they head towards Domino's car, their guns out and ready, jogging and ready and willing to take that leap onto the car.. and smash their way in if need be.

"Hey.. yo, bitches!" That would be all drivers involved, and undoubtedly including any and all passengers.. "Gimme your ride an' no one gets hurt!"

Welcome to the Bronx. Domino almost forgot what this place could be like. If other people wanted her car, they could have it! But only when she's done with it. That they're going for the car she's got an eye on, and knowing the kinds of people they are... She can't let that happen.

Time to light change: Approximately sixteen seconds.

Time to exit her car, put down the threats and reach the mark: Approximately seven seconds with kill shots, eleven seconds with disarming shots, eighteen with hand to hand. Odds of thugs taking shots at the car as it speeds away: 1 in 4. Odds of the Doctor dropping the accelerator and going for it: 1 in 30.

Gotta hit the timing just right. The story of her life. She holds one of her hands up where it can clearly be seen, the other slowly reaching for the door handle.

In another instant the door -slams- open into the first guy looking to claim her spot behind the wheel, the albino out of the seat, rolling across the pavement, ending on her back with her legs curled and braced against another car beside her, both guns out. One shoots high toward her would-be car jacker. The other gets shot clear under her Mustang toward the ankle of another unsuspecting Bronxer.

MOVE, Domino!

Live fire is going to spook the Doctor, change up his odds of risking traffic over bullets. She's back on her feet and sprinting for the Camaro, leaping and rolling right over the Mustang if need be.

-Her- prize.

The car door opens right at that special moment, that time where it will do just enough damage to *WHOOOF* push the air out of the young man's body. He draws a breath, and looks as if he's going to drop the pistol, but his hand clenches instead, setting off a wild three-stroke of bullets in rapid succession before it's silent once again. Chances of it hitting anyone? It won't hit the spotted albino, that's for sure, but somewhere, someone will be taking an ambulance to the hospital and follow it up with many questions by the police as per city policy.

Luckily, it won't hit the desired car either, but the chances of the doctor stepping on it has increased exponentially, and the tires squeal as they attempt to find purchase, fishtailing as only an overly powered car can do in the hands of a less than adequate... driver.

Yeah. Driver.

Within the car, the office worker can actually be heard screaming at the top of her lungs, which isn't much help in the cosmic scheme of things. It does, however, keep things a little more hectic for her boyfriend.. and perhaps the strange woman brandishing guns all her own..

Behind them as Dom finds purchase with the car that is attempting flight, the young man who lost his bid for breathing for a moment is going more than a little wide eyed at the acrobatics and the moves coming from the rapidly departing Domino.. with a soft 'Dayum..' before he falls over. A case of the body not truly recognizing that it's dead until... *drop*

From the shot under the car, the ankle of one of the runners is shot out from under in a spray of red, and immediately the youth goes down, screaming.

One hell of a circus going on...

Well, this..isn't entirely what Domino had been looking for. On the bright side she's that much closer to her mark! Like..on the roof of it. As it's tearing off into cross-traffic.

Good fortune tends to grace she who places her neck upon the block of her own accord.

As another car comes flying toward the classic Camaro she makes a snap decision and sweeps an arm around to take a shot at it, blowing out one of the front tires, twisting the wheel in the driver's hands in -just- the right way to cause the car to slide, connect with the one that's on a collision course with her, and bring both to a stop. Along with the rest of traffic through that intersection.

"Let's not do that again!"

Sitrep: Accelerating car, panicked crew, poor handholds, windows rolled halfway down. -Halfway.- Dom's pretty small... She'll have a better chance dropping into the passenger's lap than the driver's. A plan forms, quickly, half-assed. That's usually all that it takes. Guns go away then she grabs onto the doorframe and rolls herself right on inside.

Until her web harness catches. Spare magazines, small of the back. Yeah, remember those? That's another 1.5 inches of width.

"Damnit!"

Somewhere behind her is the handle for that friggin' window..! Just give her a minute, folks.

There's good luck, and there's Domino's version thereof. She's got a piece of the car, and thankfully it hasn't been detailed in a little over a week. And the doc is usually better with keeping it clean than that!

Little mercies.

When the merc turned repossessor gets a little closer, the driver manages to get control back of the car. All his attention is now on trying to keep the car on the road.. and he's failing. His foot is on the pedal, and the car is responding. Of course it is.

The secretary is screaming, and now to see Domino half-in and half-out of the car?

There is an uneartly stillness that comes from the girl before she grins.. and widely.


 * ZZZZZTTTTT*

The girl carries a taser, and with the slightly off-balance Domino.. the electric current will be applied in .. three .. two ..

And just to add a little insult to injury?

The car swerves, making a rather rapid left hand turn off the boulevard and onto a side street. Physics, depending upon Domino's luck, may very well work against her.. but..

It could always be worse.

So says the man on a roof far off.. waiting. And smiling.

The situation couldn't have been planned out, not for anyone. Not even for Domino. The situation turns out to be absolutely, ideally, -perfect.- It also turns out to work against her favor. A few more seconds and she'll be in the car, taking it out of gear, wrenching up on the handbrake, reaching over to help extract the driver from behind the wheel mid-slide. It all lines up so nicely within the range of details she's factored in. She even has her dry wit of the minute planned out for the guy.

This is all before getting several thousand volts straight to the spine.

Her armor isn't rated against electrical attacks. She should probably try to do something about that. A wildcard ruins her predictions, the screaming woman is putting up -more- of a fight than the driver. But, none of that really matters anymore.

Fingers -grip- the doorframe and crank, her spine suddenly arching against the electrodes as a strained "HNNGH!" gets forced out through a clenched jaw. Then it's over.

Goodnight, Miss Thurman.

And here is where physics works for the incredibly lucky Domino. That turn, while it serves to move the car in a different direction than before, it also serves to help pull the albino merc into the car with the least amount of fuss. It's a lot better than, say, the limp figure falling out of the vehicle and being run over by a random tourist rambling about on their international driver's license.

The moment Domino is out is the moment the car accelerates, and there comes a rendezvous with destiny, and a delivery is made.

Two down. Three still to go. The most difficult to predict, and therefore the most difficult is done.. and all concerned can breath easier, if only a little.

Night or day, who knows? There are no windows in the building, or rather, in the rooms set up for 'guests'. Okay, not even pretending. Not 'guests' at all. Not by a longshot (pardon the pun). All along a concrete (no iron!) reinforced penitentiary-like corridor are cells, each with a different sort of door. No one is the same, though in some of them is a bit of technology one would consider a 'dampening field' generator. There aren't many of those to go around, so they are placed rather judiciously, with an 'as needed'.

Now, however, there's movement, and a loud *clang* can be heard with a- "Wakey, wakey, muties!! Show time is coming up, and we have to make sure you're all still alive!"

It's that last word, the way it's said, that could possibly gain some serious attention...

Now, each room has the basics.. or rather.. almost the basics. No bed. A straw mat instead. (No sense in using the metal springs as a potential weapon. Just in case there are abilities no counted upon!) Food and water are served in paper products. As for manacles, well.. each mutie has a set of hard tensile plastic.

As for clothing, well.. the desire of the captors is specific. To show off that those now in captivity are NOT human.. so any and all mutation is shown to their best advantage.. which means for someone like Domino?

A bikini that would be fairly in keeping with the beaches in Monaco, meant to show much more flesh than cover.

"Wakey, wakey, muties!!

''Ugh, -God,- how much did I have to drink last night..? This had better not be Wade's apartment.''

Waking up on a pile of straw isn't the most pleasant of experiences. It tends to stick wherever weight had been applied, which also happens to include the side of Domino's face. It's caught up in her mop of hair, too. At any other moment it would be hilarious. As things stand? She's kinda pissed. Faded memories take time to coalesce, but her initial ire holds true. One way or another, things have slipped outside of her control. That means something unaccounted for has happened. Somehow, the mutie with the variables missed something major.

And now she's here. How's that for a crash and burn--

Crash. Cars. Intersection. Bronx. Classic Camaro. ... "Oh, you little bitch," she mutters under her breath. It's coming back to her, that screaming passenger that jabbed a high-grade taser against her spine. That would explain the aching muscles, beyond having slept on straw and all.

''Sitrep: Food indicates that I'm --we're?-- wanted alive. Non-standard prison wear screams presentation. So, either part of a personal collection, ooor... Fudge, this could still be a medical thing. Point is, they're not looking to kill us. So I can be mean.''

"Get bent!" she calls back to the person responsible for the wake-up call.

A raucous laugh sounds at the response, and with the first 'call out' from the prisoners comes others. Not quite as belligerant, but certainly in opposition. Some are a great deal more fearful, actually.

"I want my mommy!" It's the sound of a teen, but a frightened one.

"Yeah kid, we do too.." comes with a laugh. It's a man's voice, hard and course.. and one that sounds used to people fearing him. He revels in it.

As he walks down, he pauses in front of Domino's door, and he looks as if he's seen a few bar fights, and his manner is one that begs for more fights in the future. Those dark eyes look in, and.. remarkably, there's no leering. No.. more like a sneer.

"Feisty bitch.. that'll get you on the list for a little nap before the big day. Wouldn't want our little animals to hurt themselves before show time."

The other voices give her something else to think on. Pitch, choice of words, emotions, they all help to give the albino a mental picture of who else is in here, and who else might be stuck in her same predicament.

''There's a kid in here... Great. That changes things.'' Hello, conscience.

A small wince crosses her features as she hauls herself upright, checking over the polymer brackets keeping her limbs as slightly closer neighbors than the norm. This would be a great time to have super strength on her cheat sheet. All she can hope for is some sort of lingering manufacturing defect, or maybe the jerk that applied them didn't fully secure them. She can pick over the details later, when she doesn't have an audience.

"I've been called worse," Domino replies with a completely stoic demeanor. "Don't mistake 'feisty' for 'clumsy.' I'm ornery, not accident-prone. Also, the continental breakfast here needs some serious help."

First, a head count.. and that's exactly what is going to happen. The guard passes, banging on doors before calling, "Carl.. this one is dead. I think he used too much.."

Another guard starts to come down the corridor, and pauses in front of Domino's door as well. Something of a mini-gathering. "Which one is it?"

"The green thing. Scales."

"I'll get a box."

"And tell Steve to get a shovel."

'Carl' turns about, glancing into the cell, and he doesn't look any .. kinder than the first guard. "We'll be moving you down to that other cell. Closer to the back. Like to get the more exotics at the end."

Carl calls down to the first guard, "Hey.. tell me when I can move this one. She's kinda cute."

"You really want to touch it? I have the pole back there.." A.. ten foot pole to tie the chains to. Everything else? Looks pretty tight, for the time being.

Seriously..? Domino's luck is going to play off of the fact that someone else died? Well..beggars can't be choosers. One has to claim opportunities when they strike.

"You boys are comping a new suite for me? How thoughtful. Though, I'm still going to suggest you fire your medical staff."

''Probability calculator is go. Distance from her cell to the next cell, number of guards, obvious weapon count, she's got a clear picture ripe with numeric data compiled within seconds. But, when she tries to -process- any of those numbers...

Something ain't right here. ''Hell. Better add 'check for injection sights' to the agenda.''

Still, a small number of guards? She should be able to take them with skill, alone. She's a little groggy, been worse. Linked cuffs equals easy garrote. Even if they go for 'the pole' she could find a way to use that against them. She slowly rocks her head from side to side then rolls her shoulders, loosening up but..perhaps..giving those guards something -else- to be wasting their attention on. She can still limber up without rushing it. "Hope the view's an improvement."

Is she talking about the other cell, or herself?

If Domino does notice, there are trackmarks in the arm. It looks a little messy, and could easily be mistaken 'on the street' for heroin, or some of the other injectables. As a result, could be a little sore, but at the moment? Well..

"Get one, lose one.. actually, get a few, lose one."

The body of the green scaley mutant is pulled out by the feet, and dragged by another pole by the manacles. There's no movement, obviously, from the body.. and from the other cells, there's only a few noises..

'Carl' watches, now stationed by Domino's door, and he keeps an eye on the inside. Perhaps he does enjoy the view, particularly as she begins to stretch, bending a little.

"View's probably a little better," comes as a response. "Closer to the freakier ones."

"Carl! Help me with this thing, then grab the pole. Don't touch her. You don't know where she's been. Even though she's been through decontamination.."

Taking a deep breath, the so-named Carl smiles, though it certainly doesn't hold much amusement. "Right back, darlin'.. need to take out the trash.." Beat. "I'm gonna grab the shorter stick, Joe.. long thing doesn't do shit if they fight."

''So what do you think the odds are that Scales is faking the whole thing somehow? I --Shit! I don't know.''

Also. Injection marks on her arm and pasty white skin. That doesn't scream 'addict' at all, does it? Domino could almost laugh, it's ridiculous enough to be humorous.

"Oh, I -do- enjoy freaky," she replies with an almost wicked grin aimed directly..at..Carl. As he steps away from the cell door she steps that much closer, folding her arms together so she can prop her elbows against the surface, leaning forward with her chin resting upon the molded plastic cuffs. She'll just watch from here, thank you.

"Or where I'd be willing to go," she offers back in a tone that's equal proportions of promise and threat.

Shorter stick. Why, might that put her within kicking range of his groin? Time shall tell. In the meantime, she's got more visual recon work to do.

Come ON, how the hell does everyone and their brother come across x-gene inhibiting solutions and -none- of us have a way to counter any of them?!

Nope, sadly, green and scaly is actually dead. As the body is dragged, it looks like dead weight. Perhaps a little too much of one solution or another managed to be the wrong mixture.

"Hey!" Joe begins again, "What time is it? We've got that other thing that needs his shots." Plural.

Carl checks his watch, and mutters, "Two. Missing my shows. Stupid ass.."

Carl gives the other a hand, and is gone for a few minutes. Not to leave the 'cell block' unsupervised, however, one remains, but the guard is a little more unsure, which results in some stuttering. "G-g-get back from your doors.." he calls out. "J-j-just.. one of you stinkin' muties died.. stupid thing."

Carl returns, and taps the stammerer on the shoulder, "Go. Shovel detail. I got this." He's got a shorter stick now, with chains at the end for a little maneuverability, and he approaches Dom's door again. "Step back," is repeated before the sound of a lock uncatching is heard, though his tones carry a little more authority than the other guy. "Just movin' you.. and we're gonna do this nice and slow, or you're going beddy-bye again."

And they leave Stutters alone with Dom. That's just cute. Suddenly she's only got eyes for him, grinning enough to show some teeth. "Maybe I like the door. It's cool, knows how to take some punishment."

Psyching people out can be fun. And, on occasion, beneficial. Carl comes back, ditches Stutters, and clears the area until it's just good ol' C and D. This time she takes a few steps away from the door, but only because she wants him to open it. Let him think that he's in control. Mister Big and Bad. What's one scrawny, pale-skinned woman going to do?

Probably a hell of a lot more than he would ever come to expect.

Patience is key. The distance has to be right, but she's going to have to make a leap of faith at some point. Right between 'too far away' and 'connected to the pole.' She'll need what mobility she can keep, and that pole will make a better weapon when she's not too busy being chained to it.

"So how's about we have a few drinks when this whole ordeal's over with? I've got nothing to do for a while."

''Angle of the cell door. Head positioning. He's got upper body strength, catch him at his three o'clock, fast and hard. Unless he's got a titanium noggin he'll drop the same as anyone else.''

"Hey. You a fan of baseball?" Because here's the wind-up and pitch!

Stutters is out of his element here, certainly. It's obvious, and he's more than happy to give Dom that death stare before he's tasked to do aught else. Tough guy on the other side of the door! Even tougher when he's leaving the area! Though the pronounced stammer sounds as if he's decidedly rattled. Or else, hired for some comedic value as of untapped! "W-w-watch out, s-s-sweetheart.. y-you m-might get on my t-t-table soon." See?

Carl waits as his orders are complied with.. and nodding his head, he opens the door, holding his stick low. "C'mere, you--"

And Domino is on the move! While her abilities are dampened, they're not out, as it were, and the attack goes on with slightly more even odds.

Carl is more burly, and even if Joe doesn't think so, there's a lot of fight in these muties.. some more than others. After all, how they took this one down? Half way in a freaking speeding car! And that's not the only thing they've observed her doing!


 * OOF*

"You bi--" and before Carl can get the end of the stick attached to the chain, he takes the hit, and is pushed backwards, the wind getting knocked out of his lungs. He's as tough as he looks, however, and while he's down, he's not out.

It is hard to get the room for a proper swing, but it's more than enough to wind him. Which keeps him from calling out immediately. When he goes down, however, he rolls to get at her feet, to knock her the hell down.. if she's off her feet, it'll be a whole lot easier to tag her.

Fun fact. While a lot of mutants are scary powerful with their x-gene tricks and a lot more manageable without them, that doesn't hold true for -everyone.- The X-Kids are a great example. They're combat-trained.

Then there's people like Domino. She's spent the first decade and a half of her life inside of a secret bio-weapons program. She's been trained, mutant ability or no mutant ability. There's a lot of black government funding backing every move she makes. Sure, she may not have her unpredictability and, because of this, there's a slight decrease in speed, but she's still a weapon. Training to fight the effects of drugs, unfamiliar environments, combat while in restraints, it's all par for the course.

Don't underestimate Little Whitey.

Carl can get back to his feet. It'll work a lot better for her when she leaps forward, trying to get her arms locked about his neck. Not only can she go for strangulation but it will take her weight off of her shackled feet, allowing both of them to drive knee-first toward his crotch.

I still hate sports metaphors...

And Domino, in this case, is one of the more exotic for all of those above reasons. Which is exactly why they decided upon her. Dangerous, to them yes. Exotic to the others.

And as far as they're concerned, an animal that needs caging.

Carl misses the feet, but rolls back, and regains his footing. The moment he's up, however, there comes this albino flying to latch on to him like a giant.. remora. Face-hugger? Regardless, she's on him, and he is spun around, part of them now out in the corridor, in view of the others. A cheer rises, complete with, "Look!! She's doing it!"

"Kill him!!"

"For Charlie!!"


 * OOF*

There's one thing, too, that truly pisses of a guy.. and that becomes that balance.. how mad versus how much pain he's in as to what sort of response a knee in the crotch will be.

Carl roars with pain before he begins to lose that ability to make a sound.

It's the cheering of the peanut gallery that brings in Joe.. and another guard.. and another.. with a taser in hand, though not yet brought to bear.


 * CLIKTZZZZT..*

One drawback about dealing with a weapon? It's often possible to win by bringing in a bigger one. Not all is lost, however! Now that Domino's in the melee, her odds worsening by the second, she can feel -something- stirring in the back of her shoulders. Her power's still lurking in there somewhere. Its teeth may have been pulled but it's not out of the fight just yet.

Maybe if she keeps pushing, keeps throwing herself into the path of danger... Carl can still go into the taser for her first.

No time to strangle. Arms come together and -whip- through the air to try and break Carl's nose, though the move ends up with her dropping to the floor and going for one of his knees from the side, the way they -don't- bend. Offset his balance, grab, guide, -throw- him toward the guy holding the taser.

This isn't going to be over until she's down or all of them are down. It's not looking too good from where she's standing, but what can she do? Nothing?

Screw that!

Dry wit can wait, she's got people to destroy.

Her power is there, lurking in the background, little embers of it flaring. But, it could be that while it may not actively help, it may yet allow her to get away from most things .. less scathed than would have been!

The sound of the taser comes as the man who holds it does so with a lack of finesse. Think.. constant chambering of rounds in a movie. Soon enough, by all rights, the 'hero' should be knee deep in discarded bullets, but--

Carl fights, and is able to breathe again, though he's not entirely certain why Domino let go of his throat. Still, it's something, and in the next moment, he roars again as blood gushes from his nose, spraying everywhere. Now, he's mad.. and when she goes down, he's dropping to the ground in order to wrestle, and keep her there, never mind his own legs.

"Arretez, imbeciles!" comes from the front of the corridor now. It's a man, his dark eyes blazing, and he's got a gun up and pointed rather.. pointedly at Domino on the ground. Behind him, there's something of a scuffle, or rather, more of a shuffle as if someone is carrying yet more weight, awkwardly.

"Stupide.. you.." and he looks to Carl, though he never drops his bead on Dom. It's a wide bore, which probably means something of a speciality round.. whatever it is, probably not lethal.. but it'll hurt. "Stop playing with her," comes in a thick French accent.

"Domino," and his tones sound harsh in the word, "There is time enough for your games."

It's not a bad start. Domino drew first blood, so that some credit. Against her ghostly complexion the bright crimson looks almost like a cheap attempt at a horror movie, it's just -too- vivid a color. She can get Carl onto that taser, too. He's being more stubborn than he has any right to be but she can do this..! Just give her a moment--

Gun. Where the hell did -this- guy come from? Once again she has the numbers. Once again they refuse to parse. Just how lucky is she feeling, lucky enough for his weapon to fail to fire? That buys her ..what, ten, fifteen seconds, max? It also risks tipping her wildcard in front of all of these guys. They probably aren't yet aware of what she can do.

Sigh. It's a hit to her pride, but she's already working against too much here. Carl should have been down at -least- two times by now. He's still in the fight. She lost her window.

''Hang in there, girl. There'll be another window. If you're conscious you can see if they try to inject anything else.''

So..she's out of the fight. By choice, mind. An impish grin gets flashed up at Carl. "Call me."

It is something out of a horror flick, and if it weren't for the fact that it's tomorrow, the powers that be might have approved keeping the blood there as show. ''What's a wild animal without the scent of iron to enflame it? As it is, it's obvious that weakness can be smelled by these animals,'' and there are a couple more men that come behind the man with the gun.

Carl rolls slowly, and painfully onto his side, pushing off with some difficulty. He's got no luck, or rather, perhaps he's got more than he counted on?

Luck works in such strange ways.

"Oh, I'll call," Carl grunts, "when it's your turn to dance..". Wiping his nose now, gingerly, he takes a step back before looking around for the stick.

Now, the voice comes again, the accented one. "Be a good girl now and walk to the end. You know where."

The awkward shuffling now gets a little louder, and there's a blue form getting dragged; meant for the room Domino is now vacating. "Vas-y.." Go!

Oh, Carl's gonna be a lot of fun. "Lookin' forward to it," Domino says with an air-kiss to follow toward the guy while climbing back to her feet. The arrival of another drugged out form, though...

Oh, no. Blue...

They got Nightcrawler. As much as it worries her she has to keep the grin in place and the worry away from her eyes. If these guys find out that there's easy leverage to use against her within their grasp then only bad things can result.

"Hey, the demented, back-stabbing criminal overlord with the gun is always right."

''Just wait. Yes, it sucks, but at least you're not gonna starve around here.''

Who the hell knows if her power is doing anything at this moment? It's always working, with or without her. Some things have immediate results. Some take years to fully manifest. Dom's entire endgame might well be one massive, lifelong setup that brings every last piece of the puzzle together in perfect harmony. Or, it could turn out to be an absolute trainwreck as manipulated probabilities all collide and nature tries to correct these glitches to the system. All she knows is that she's not going to give this asshole the pleasure of shooting her.

She relocates.