2013-01-25 Highway to Hell, part 4: Chicago

(Continued from Highway to Hell, part 3: Cincinnati)

It's been a long, exhausting trip already, and there's still so much more lying ahead of the two mutants. Chicago is the next stop on Domino's list, which means a solid five hours and change of playing by the rules in a slightly depreciated Audi that, somehow, manages to complete the trip without any complaint.

Rolling into the Windy City in early morning reveals slate grey skies and a bitter chill in the air, the day's traffic not yet clogging the streets for another hour or two. Rather than a seedy nightclub, Dom pulls into an auto mechanic's lot tucked neatly away within the grimier parts of the city, tapping the horn once then waiting for a garage door to roll open. The car rolls inside then shuts down, allowing one ragged around the edges mercenary to finally step out and stretch her legs. Even at this hour there's someone working the shop.

"Hey. She in?"

The lone man idly flings a grease-stained rag into the trash, calling out "Yo, Ava!" Thinking ahead, he goes to find some other part of the shop to occupy so they'd have a little privacy to work with.

In the meantime, Dom sits back on the edge of the hood and rubs at her forehead. "This should be interesting."

"We made good time," notes Kwabena as the city comes into view. "Avoided any speed traps -and- got in before rush hour." He casts a glance Domino's way with a perked eyebrow. "I lived here for some short few weeks."

As if 'living' anywhere, before he grew into his own skin, really meant anything appealing what so ever.

The South Side of Chicago was a gritty, dangerous place, but it was an area Shift knew well. The gentrification gripping many of the old slums and ganglands of North Chicago, such as Wicker Park, Logan Square, and Humbolt Park, will probably never touch the South Side, which is all about gangs, the Cook County Lockup, and hard times.

Given that it's still the Audi, Kwabena spares no hesitation in lighting a smoke as they roll through the dirty, grid-like streets toward their destination. For the morning, he's chosen a playlist involving mostly old dubhouse and reggae, just mellow enough to keep from distracting them while just energetic enough to keep them going. He silences the music as they pull toward the garage, and quickly flicks his cigarette out the window and into the gutter.

"I hate it when you say dat," he replies, and chooses to lean up against the other side of the car. Fortunately, he'd grabbed some clothes to put over his Shift Suit, while making a quick stop at a truck stop somewhere in Indiana. Blue jeans, a black and red flannel shirt, and a black leather work jacket. Not exactly his usual attire, but it does make him look a bit rugged and, honestly, doesn't attract attention to him in these parts.

Moments later someone else steps in from the front of the shop. She's smaller, rail thin, a proud owner of naturally red hair, and looks almost silly with the baggy coveralls draped about her wiry figure. "Well I'll be. Tammy! And here I thought you forgot about me, what with your busy and exciting life of sluggin' faces and pounding drinks, it really -is- you!" 'Ava' pauses for a moment as she catches sight of the other new guy in the shop, making a point of stepping around the front of the Audi to get a better look at Shift. "Aaand who might this guy be, mmh..?" The gaze that follows is the look of appraisal, apparently he passes without a fight.

Domino's smirk looks ever so slightly strained. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation. Or, maybe it's being called 'Tammy.' "Still working in this shithole, Avus?"

"Hey, people ask a lot less questions in this part of town," the shopowner counters. Her head quickly inclines as she asks "This the one, huh? Looks like an oh-six. RS-four, pretty sweet ride. Um..." she hesitates while taking a few steps back to look at the sedan from the side, "--did you bend the frame on this thing, Tam?"

Dom's expression over the hood says it all, 'here we go.'

Tammy?

Shift manages to keep the smirk from finding its way onto his face, remaining cool as the shop owner inspects him. "De name is Yavon. Yavon Dunambe," answers the Ghanaian, without preamble or handshake. Instead of offering any further dialogue, he walks a bit behind Avus, as if inspecting the car alongside of her until she asks that question. "You could say dat," he murmurs, and kneels down onto the dirty cement to take a better look at the damage.

In truth, Kwabena's eyes are inspecting what he can make out of the surroundings. Any booby traps here? Cameras or recording devices? Unsavory characters lingering in the dark places of the garage, or loitering outside? He can't see everything, but no one ever said precaution was a waste.

"Yavon," Avus tries the word on for size, giving a slow nod of approval. The good-natured smile returns to her face, at least so long as she's looking at Shift. Whenever she's looking at the Audi, her expression is slightly less enthusiastic. "I always knew you were hard on your rides, Tam, but this is a real piece of work. She'll need some definite TLC."

Domino takes the opportunity to wander off to the side of the shop, the faithful old coffee maker having been replaced some time back with an equally faithful Keurig. She helps herself. "But you enjoy that sort of thing, right? Engine's fine, plenty of parts worthy of salvage, I'm sure it's not a total loss."

"Far from," Avus agrees while checking it over high and low. "No extra speed holes in this one, either," she observes while reaching beneath the chassis with another frown, checking out some of the damage. "And now for the dreaded question, how hot is she?"

Domino turns around and leans against the counter, one leg crossed in front of the other with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. Another one's brewing behind her while she gives the question some thought. "Phoenix in Summer."

"Of course," Avus sighs in resignation, extracting herself from beneath the rear wheel to pass another look at 'Yavon.' "Are you two actually an item? Because if you are, I think I want your autograph."

"We don't do autographs," answers Shift while rising from his own 'inspection' of the car. "No pictchahs on de intahnet, either." There is a momentary pause before he flashes a daring glimpse of pearly whites at Avus. "She -is- hard on her rides, though."

Oh, he'll pay for that one later.

Eyeing the Keurig from afar, Shift decides not to pursue another cup of coffee just yet. That would look too suspicious. Instead, he meanders toward the garage door, his eyes suddenly going quite stony and vigilant. Where he chooses to lean up against a bare spot on the wall (which, we'll note, is decidedly hard to locate), he's given a much better view of the streetscape outside. What's he looking for?

Cops, of course. And he's nervous. Chicago was a decidedly racist city, and he didn't want to attract undue attention from any passing bacon simply because of his dark skin. So, he keeps to a shadow, muscles tensing just so.

No autographs nor pictures. Avus pauses as she stares at Shift, her smile fading ever so slightly. "Oh, you're another one of -those- types. Right. Don't get your jeans in a bind, I've been serving all sides of society since before I had my own shop."

In that moment, as if reading part of Shift's mind without getting the entire message, Domino comes back to his side with two early morning drinks in her hands. The slight grin she wears is as dark as the brew within those cups, though she still hands the second one over. "The next one's going down your pants, kid."

Avus merely grins, popping open a door and peering inside. If there's any trace of ordnance or shell casings left behind she doesn't pay them any mind. "The heat's a bummer, but I can work with this. Still after the criteria you gave me on the wire?"

"I am. Got anything that fits the bill?"

"Got an oh-eight Range Rover sport ready to fly. Four point two stepped up to a point five, boosted to four fifteen horse. The automatic's probably not going to agree with you and she's more thirsty than my man Ray after a weekend bender, but she'll see you through. Smooth ride. Smoke grey. If she can't see you through this weather, you'd do better catching a flight."

Dom keeps her expression neutral, hearing the specs with a soft, absent nod. "What's the exchange?"

Avus gives it some thought, settling herself in behind the Audi's wheel as if trying that on for size, as well. "Make it an even five."

"-Five grand?-"

"Tammy, sweetie, the frame's gonna need to be -completely- overhauled, -and- I get the benefit of trying to make it safe to drive while the Feds are going to be breathing down my neck. You're lucky that I'm willing to take it at all. Short notice, specific criteria, and I don't even want to think of the laundry list of criminal activities this poor lady's seen. I'll even throw in your drinks for free," she finishes with a teasing smile.

A long breath trails out from Dom's jet black lips, thinking about the offer before she fetches the Audi's keys from a trench pocket and tosses them over. "Let's take a look at this Rover."

"You would like dat just too much," answers Kwabena, while accepting the cup of coffee from Domino with a most mischievous smirk. Hey, a little humor serves to lighten the mood, right? Not to mention hopefully setting Avus at ease. He's not about to strangle anyone here.

After a few minutes of lurking at the garage door, Shift walks back into the garage, sipping thankfully upon the hot and cheap liquid. He considers reaching for the flask in his leather jacket to spice it up a little, but... no. Whiskey can either wake a person up or put them to sleep, and it's just not the right -moment- for that, yet.

"Range Rovah," mutters Shift. "Good piece, heavy, gotta make a lot of stops for gas though." He perks an eye over toward Domino, then back toward Avus. "Any chance you could throw in an extra gas tank?"

He's joking.

Isn't he?

Avus is quick to dismiss such a triviality as an extra tank, "Help yourself. Got some NATO-spec cans along the back wall, you'll know them by their olive paint." In an identical fashion the other set of keys are tossed back to Domino, who catches them and goes off in search of their new ride.

It doesn't take long to find. Range Rovers aren't very small and there's only so many places that one could hide in an auto shop. "Just discreet enough. More than enough storage. Tires in good shape. Feels like a damned monster truck, but I think this can work."

From the other end of the garage, Avus calls back "God, I should have tacked an extra fiver onto that bill, I'm -never- gonna get the smoke smell out of this interior!"

Dom passes a meaningful glare at Shift, saying -nothing.- Five grand for a clean vehicle and getting the heat off of their backs, plus having something that can conquer snowy mountain overpasses? No one ever said this line of business came cheap.

"Sure you won't take four?" Dom inquires.

"Need I remind you of the Lotus you took off my hands three years ago?"

Sigh. Dom pulls out a wad of bills and starts counting things out. "Care to start transferring our gear, 'Yavon?'"

How much could they fit into the back of a Range Rover without causing too much drag, or attracting two much attention?

Two cans? Three?

Better make it four. Besides, one never know when one might want to chuck one out the back and shoot it with a gun. Instant explosions and fun times.

That look from Domino is pointedly -ignored-. Nicotine does a lot for keeping one peppy and in good spirits, and in the coming hours, there's likely to be a lot more smoking in that Range Rover. However, with a leather interior? Cigarettes weren't a problem in the Audi.

Other types of smoke? Well. Ahem.

Seems 'Yavon' is already at work, first loading up all four cans before slugging the gear from Domino's old, trusted Audi into the back of their new digs. He makes it a point to snatch the little christmas-tree shaped air freshener from the Audi, if only to hang it up inside the Range Rover to make a point. "God," he jokes. "It's like you packed for a month long trip to Hawaii, only your bikini's are made of solid titanium."

He pauses, smirks, then shakes his head and keeps right on going with that large gear bag. Into the Range Rover it goes, and is promptly covered up by an ugly, flannel blanket taken from somewhere else in the garage.

Money exchanges hands. The deal's even finished with a hug, though more from Ava's part than Domino's. "Consider your tab covered in full. You two stay safe out there, and be sure to give me a couple hours' notice if you bring in anything else that's half as toasty as this gal, alright?"

"Titanium has its uses," Dom counters. "Ever been bitten by a shark? They stop doing it after the first few times when all they get is metal. Come on, let's go find some breakfast."

She still has to smirk at that lonely little air freshener. That ornament is in way over its head with these two.

"See you in another three years, Avus," Dom jokes while firing up the ignition. It's still eight cylinders. It's also bored out and fitted with a supercharger. All wheel drive, once again. It just happens to ride another foot higher than the sedan and weigh a crapton more. One street-legal tank exchanged for another.

It even has an auxillary input for the radio.

Thirty-six minutes later...

The sun is starting to come out overhead, though it does nothing for the dull grey hue lurking within the sky. In weather like this the Rover almost disappears within the gloomy city streets. Breakfast comes down to fast food, though for whatever reason it isn't eaten inside, or even while on the road. With or without any protests, Domino rolls through the inner city to find a spot along the curb to park long enough to eat. Across the street and a half block ahead is a church, but the rest of the area seems typical enough. Grungy without being outright hazardous. Quiet without being deserted. It has the vibe of an area where people go to disappear, where no one will ever find them.

Fitting enough, for these two.

"You know," points out Shift, while making a single hand motion toward Domino and feigning the look of a man trying to contemplate something. "I -just- don't see you as de go swimming in de ocean, getting some rays type. No offense, Tam's."

Before leaving, Shift gives Avus a good fake punch to the shoulder. "Thanks for de help. Catch your autograph next time." Then, he's climbing into the car, stomach growling for as many eggs, potatoes, and crunchy pieces of bacon he can fit into him.

Once they have parked, Shift takes a moment to look around. His eyes seem confused, brows knit together in some mixture of worry and hesitation. The place was not at all familiar to him, even though it should be. It's the South Side. He knew the South Side, like he knew that little lady he'd hit up for booty calls here two years ago. Consistently.

She probably didn't know about this place, either.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Shift leans his head back into the headrest and closes his eyes. The greasy breakfast remains half eaten, its polished cardboard carton resting easily upon one knee. A deep, heavy sigh is brought about as he lets his body rest for just a few brief moments.

There's more to luck than what a person can line up for themselves. A more cosmic form of good fortune also exists that revolves around thousands of events, whether significant or menial, all coming together over a period ranging from hundredths of a second to generations of time. Every once in a while the stars align just so, allowing for something special to occur, even if for a momentary glimpse of time.

While you're digesting and letting your eyes rest beside her, Domino's keeping her fingers warm around her coffee, thoughts cast adrift as her mind wanders. They still have a lot of ground to cover, though even she's not certain just how much further they have to go. All she does know is that she couldn't pass through this city without parking right here on the side of this street.

Not while the rest of her past seems to be splintering off in new and exciting ways.

Today, her schedule is perfectly aligned within her cosmic window. The right glance at the right angle is cast across the street at just the right instant, catching the glimpse of another soul briskly walking along, younger and male, brushing jet black hair over an ear.

Skin white as a mouse.

As quickly as it appears, Domino's window vanishes and the lone figure is gone. It only took half of a second, but it's enough. A tiny smile sneaks into her otherwise stoic expression, held for about as long as her eyes had caught the peculiar sight. Then, as with the other figure, it vanishes without a trace.

"Wake up, kiddo. Your turn to drive."

He'd learned to sleep that way in the jungle, you know. Half awake, half asleep, tuning out the noises that are not to be concerned with while keeping hyper aware, somewhere between consciousness and sleep, of those sounds that should make one suddenly and brightly alert.

The sound of engines, busses, cars honking, ghetto people shouting at each other, all of those things, tuned out.

Domino's voice - tuned in.

The moment she speaks, Shift's eyelids flash open. A sharp breath enters his nostrils, and he very quickly devours the rest of his breakfast with three very large mouthfuls. He's out of the Range Rover in a heartbeat, pitching the remains into a nearby trash receptacle, then crosses by the albino on his way to the driver's seat.

He'd never know why they were here.

The engine fires to life, and he peels the car around in a u-turn. "Keep us off de freeway," he notes, "until we're out of town. The freeway is -hell- at dis hour."

(The story continues in Highway to Hell, part 5: Denver.)