2013.07.13 - Not so hard

New York City.

It's where Director Nick Fury is the most comfortable nowadays. Everything is there at his fingertips, everything he needs is a phone call away. Data rolls off the computers in a never ending cycle, and he pays good money to people to connect the dots. Some of the kids use keywords, and others, more oldschool like himself, use 'gut' to follow up on things that are just not right.

But damned if he has to fucking fly out to China in order to salvage what he's got going for a select few back in the states. And not only does he have to fly, but he has to be 'official' about it in order to play the cards out correctly. That, in itself, makes him even more testy. Having them watch his every move?

Let them fucking try.

Home now is a few thousand miles away, and jet lag is also a bitch. No matter, however. He's got business to attend to, and the Director wants to be sure it's taken care of.

In short order.

Shanghai is an amazing city. The Chinese are trying to make it THE port city in the world. As it is, a 21 mile long island off the coast of the mainland is COVERED with containers for shipping. And their berths. And their cranes. There is a twelve mile road bridge that links the island to the mainland, and nothing else.

A text message is relayed over the phone, declaring a multimedia message incoming. If opened, it's two pictures of Google maps. One is the location where Domino currently is (within a reasonable margin of error), and the second.. where, perhaps, she -should- be.

In Row BR4. On the island.

Domino has been playing it cool for nearly a decade. Prior to that, she's had extensive training. Without the X-gene she would still be a strong, confident, and scary powerful opponent to anyone. She's taken down some big-name creeps with nothing more than a couple well-placed shots and dry wit.

When she hands out a contact number, it's routed through to her phone. She controls which numbers get through and which do not. No one knows her actual number.

No one, except perhaps for Nick Fury.

When the pictures come through it's all she can do to not throw the phone against the nearest wall then run a magdump or two onto whatever remains. She knows who sent her those images. But..perhaps this means she finally has a ticket out of this country? It's worth following up on, particularly in considering that if they can trace her location via satellite there may well be a relic from the Star Wars project hovering out there with its crosshairs aimed right on top of her head.

She wouldn't put it past that asshole. Loose ends always need to be taken care of, one way or another. After the stunt that she pulled? She's half expecting it.

With much of her ammo reserves run dry (but with a fun new SMG to her name, thanks a lot Triad bastards!) she does the sensible thing and heads for that location. Which means taking a vehicle.

She doesn't have far to walk before she finds a parking garage. As she's entering, one man is leaving. He trips, falls, gets up, brushes off his street racing leather jacket, and sheepishly continues along.

Racing leathers. Italian colors. He must be the rich kid that parked the Ducati on level four. That he happened to lose his keys when he tripped, well...

His bad fortune becomes her good fortune.

Somewhere during the trip the rain let up. Either that or she drove outside of its influence. The bike eats up the miles in proper high performance fashion, rocketing the lone albino to the container farm off of the coast. She parks a few containers away, out of sight. Only she should know where her primary escape route is.

If she can ever find it again in this maze.

If there's one thing about the Chinese in this day and age? It's conspicuous consumption, just like the Americans were back in the 70s. Those with money, spend it. Those with a lot of money spend a great deal of it.

Thus, that young man with the Ducati? Probably someone important, or someone with a few contacts. Or a computer geek who got lucky at work. Either way? It's impressive transportation.

The 12 mile road is low to the water, looking all the world as if one good wave will wash itself up and over the roadway. It's reasonably clear of traffic for whatever reason, which makes progress easy.

But it doesn't give Nick the chance to finish his cigar.

There are a few lights in the container farm, though to turn corners does bring darkness and shadows. The containers are stacked three and four high, making the access roads into chasms in this steel Grand Canyon.

Nick likes to play cat and mouse. He does. He really does.

Just not tonight.

The moment the bike ceases its progress through the steel alleyways, there is another message that causes the phone to register an incoming message.. assuming the albino mercenary has kept it on, of course. All it says?

Look up.

There, second container up, the door is only slightly ajar; something easily missed, even with a practiced eye. And peeking out of it? The muzzle of a gun.

Now, Nick is old school. He doesn't draw unless he has every intention to use it- or rather, is willing to use it.

Pushing the door open a little more, Nick now calls out, "There's a ladder on the side. Take it."

And so it begins. There's one gun on Domino, already. One gun with an extremely narrow field of view. She could be gone before he ever gets a shot off. They would never find her again.

Two things keep her there.

One: She wants out of this country. Two: The odds of Nick not having dozens of other sniper positions set up within this container city are exactly 1 in 52,941. There would be another shooter or two with eyes on her at all times. He wouldn't dick around with something like this.

Not with someone like her.

Definitely not after what she had done.

With her eyes on the screen she doesn't need to look up and away, doesn't need to see that lone barrel. She simply holds her left hand up over her head and gives the world around her the finger. Silent defiance, it's fun.

Then she ID's the one shooter.

"If I'm expected to keep following orders from you the least you could do is put me on the fucking payroll," Dom calls back while climbing the ladder. She's looking a little stiff, there. A trained eye would realize that something from just beneath her left ribs must be bothering her tonight.

Time to face the music. Fortunately, she happens to know this song quite well.

Fury isn't stupid. Nor does he have a death wish. Of -course- he's got snipers in with him, and they're silent. Urban camoflage. At night. SHIELD gets the best of the best, and the Director won't have anything less.

If the albino merc thought about it, maybe she'd be flattered.

Or maybe not.

Penance.

A single eye catches the salute, such as it is. Back when the internet was young, and it was used only for porn and cute animal pictures, wasn't there one of a the 'final defiance' of a prey animal before it was eaten? Pretty sure.. and that memory brings a ghost of a smirk to Fury's face.

"Oh, you're getting paid better than most," is given clearly. Not too loudly, but certainly enough to be heard. As she climbs, then, that trained, experienced eye most decidedly catches the ever-so-slight favouring of that side, and files it away.

Running on adrenaline now? Nick is always thinking, always considering. When she crashes, she'll be stiff..

"Let it never be said that I'm not a good employer and not say 'well done' on a target." And all that happy horseshit. Fury takes a step to the side to keep Domino from even considering closing the crate on him. Just out of spite. "But the wife and son? Really? Working on that one." Though, knowing him? He's already got it worked out and is, even now, taking steps to use it to his advantage.

Now, his tones darken, and Fury looks.. mad. "If I wanted a fucking monkey drawing a bead, I'd hire Koko the goddamned ape."

That very defiance has seen Domino through some pretty improbable odds. It's taken stronger opponents off guard, taken them out of the game just long enough for her to land the killing blow. Maybe she's not trying to kill the Director of SHIELD tonight, but she does have her own rules to live by.

When you think your side is losing, kick over the game board and start again with new rules.

There she stands, mere feet away from Fury. Grinning. This time Nick is the first to show full-on anger. She's going to be a little more constructive with hers. It worked with Cheng. It worked with countless others in her line of work. It can still work here.

"Then maybe you should so you can stop wasting everyone's time. I can only figure that you had a complete lapse of common sense when you sent me on that run, though I'm glad to see that you've finally remembered who it is that you hired to take out your trash for you."

Nick wanted himself a gun, someone to handle the stuff he'd rather not get his proper agents caught up with. That's exactly what he's going to get. He's not paying her to use her head, he's 'paying' her to use her skills on the trigger.

When Fury loses his temper, things don't fly, but bad things happen. He's not an inscrutible Chinese 'businessman', and he knows.. he knows that grin as it comes across that pale, white face. He knows she's crazy, and unlike the Chinese, he's got no qualms about putting someone down. It's a mercy.

But at the moment?

The single eye narrows in the face of that grin, and he reaches out, feinting as if he's going to make a grab for her shirt to pull her close. No, instead, he goes for a jab right under where that injury lies, twisting around for a sweep to get her off her feet..

"I hired a merc with a rep that, as far as I'm concerned, is shot to shit at the moment. I told you I'd bury you if you fucked this up." He smiles, the expression wolfish. "Your reputation will precede you now."

Domino's bloody fast, but she's off of her game. She's tired, run ragged, and been trying to avoid a startlingly large amount of people while searching for a way out of the country. Normally she'd have the upper hand on any human, easy. Her reflexes have been boosted in a lab, her genetic prowess coded before she was so much as a sample in a test tube.

The spike of pain shoots through her side in a flash. It brings a strained grunt to her blackened lips before she ever has a chance to keep it in check.

She already has Nick's wrist caught within her fingers. Her other hand is drawn back, cocked into a savage fist aimed straight for his face. "Stop fucking with me, Fury. You didn't hire me to do shit. What you're doing is blackmail, don't you ever try to downplay it."

(Careful, Domino... You're slightly outnumbered here. These aren't Triad thugs.)

She releases her hold in a way that also shoves Nick's arm away from her, lowering her other hand back to her side. Aside from setting her jaw against the pain in her side she ignores it as best she can. Nick didn't need to be encouraged by this.

"You wanted Chang Duh out of the picture. He is. You said nothing about taking care of witnesses."

Yeah, because it would have been soooo hard for her to wait until he was alone before taking the shot.

This would be a fight for the books, wouldn't it? Ranger vs. mutant. It's why the Director always has things in reserve. It's something he took with him from the Cold War of the 1970s.

MAD. Mutual Assured Destruction.

The grunt of pain is exactly what Fury expected to hear. Adrenaline is running out.

"What I did was give you a shot back when," comes harshly as a reminder. "You fucked it up, thinking you could do it alone. Well, this.. this? This tells me that you really," Here, his voice gets lower as he straightens up, pushed back as he is by the recovering merc. "...really need a collar."

Fury takes a step back, but doesn't turn his back on her. Oh no.. "With the wife and son gone, it's turned personal.. and at this very moment, the Americans and the Chinese are pointing fingers. At least you had the fucking foresight to use a Chink gun." Credit where it's due?

He exhales in a short, barked breath, and shakes his head slowly. "Now, we're gonna fix this." He pauses as he cocks his head, the eye looking consideringly at her as she hold her side.. as if nothing is wrong? "No. You're going to fix this. And then I'll have the shredder going. Maybe. Just maybe I'll give you something to cover some of your expenses on the way home."

Adrenaline may be escaping her. Anger is still being overstocked.

"I tried to play your game back then," Domino quickly counters. "I really did. You know what I got out of it? Three jobs. Max. I got stuck with a world-class jinx as a 'partner,' risked my life on several occasions trying to 'do the right thing,' and that shot my reputation to shit. You want someone with a clean slate, go call on Captain America. I'm not here because I'm a paragon. You dragged me into things because I'm covered in dirt. I'm no good to you if I keep my life blemish-free."

She could just tell the guy that it was Cheng that forced her into killing the rest of the family. Maybe he wouldn't be so quick to muscle her around with SHIELD breathing down his neck..? (No. This is MY business. Not his.)

"Oh! It's turned personal," she suddenly barks out with a laugh. "Soooo sorry. Like you didn't make it personal the instant you called me out on that bullshit chicken run through upstate."

Then things get interesting. He's going to make her 'fix' all of this? Sometimes working the odds requires some personal sacrifice. She hates working for this man with a passion, yet the only way to get out of it is to go through it. Here is where her expression dissipates, flatlining into a cold, dark void. She's trying to teach Fury a lesson. She's a gun. A killer. Something to be respected, even if it's out of fear, alone. That means she's got one play left with this hand.

"Then shut up, give me a gun, and get the hell out of my way."

There. Was that so hard?

Nick watches now with an impassive air. He's channeled his anger down, though it does burn slowly, and most assuredly. His brows knit together and his jaw shifts to the side. At least he gives her the courtesy to finish.

"Yeah, well.. things are a little different now." Not much one can say. "I don't want someone with a clean slate. I want someone who knows their shit and does it right."

"The first time."

It's only a couple of paces that brings the Director up close and personal again, but this time, he keeps his hands to himself. His tones are still so quiet, but it's a practiced effort to make his feelings quite known. Strength in the whisper. "The people who worked on your file were fuck ups, and they're gone. Buried. You're my headache now." He shakes his head, and snorts again. "Goddamned desk jockeys."

There's a moment where Fury stares at her, his eye dark and unreadable. He's a killer, but one with a mission. A purpose.

"The Hand made a play on the mob the other day. Seven mobsters were indicted on enterprise corruption charges. That includes money laundering, extortion.." A smile ghosts his face again, "Same shit, different city. Union tampering is going on here in Shanghai. On this very piece of land, as a matter of fact."

It's a rare event when Domino isn't sure about how she wants to play a given situation.

She could continue to push her luck. She knows her odds, just how close to the edge she could go before Fury throws her into a tiny little cell, all by herself, until she's either broken to the point of complacency or given some manner of implant to guarantee her cooperation.

She could start playing by his rules. Pull out of this nosedive, work through this shit, clear herself in the eyes of the Director then get back to her own life.

She could continue to play the wildcard, infuriating the man until he falls back to more drastic measures.

She could try to disappear.

None of the odds look that great from where she's standing. Complications follow every option that comes to mind. The path of least resistance is obvious enough, but would it work? Is it what she wants?

For now, steady the course. If Nick wants something from her then he's going to have to fight her to get it. She'll keep her eyes open but she's not going to make this easy on the guy. Here stands a man who is intent on fucking with her life. The least she could do is return the favor. His headache is only going to get worse from here.

Translated to their current situation, he wants some guys dead. She'll kill them all, with zero concern for collateral damage. She can kill them. 'How' shouldn't matter.

For the first time she lets some of her guard down around Nick, leaning back against the wall of the cargo container with one foot propped back behind her and arms folded beneath her chest. "And nobody screws with the union, I've heard this one before. If you value the lives of your agents then you may wish to have them vacate the area."

"Union is a strong supporter of the state here. They're in the pockets of every politician from here to Peking. Someone playing with that isn't a happy thing. It means they would control the biggest port in the world." As if Fury's voice couldn't get lower, it actually does. "And Cobra wouldn't like that. Nor would Hydra. They like to believe they have a hand in things, and that would cause all hell to break loose."

Balance of power. It's a tenuous thing.

Taking a deep breath now, Nick lets it out slowly, nodding his head. "They'll pull back. You'll have a ticket out of here." Now comes a slow smile, and his head cants in theatric inquiry, "Not so hard now, was it."

A gesture in the form of another nod is given towards the door, and beyond, the ladder of the container. "I'll have the information for you. Where to find them." Yes, them. "And how I want you to depart this port."

(It's times like this that led you to take up smoking, you know.)

Another time, another gravesite. Domino killed that habit a long time ago, put to rest along with so much of her opposition. Here, in this moment, the memory of it actually comes to the front of her mind. Leaning against the wall as she is, getting the rundown on yet another crazy job she's getting for next to no return, she feels as though she should be doing something. Smoking. Drinking. Cleaning a gun. Strangling the life out of Fury.

Something.

On the upside, here's her ticket out of this place. It's the bane of mercs and thieves across the globe. 'Just one more job.' It's never that easy.

"Go fuck yourself," she says in a dispassionate, noncommittal tone when he decides to get all theatrical with her.

"People die, I go home." And if she doesn't go home, even more people will die. Simple as that. "Glad we had this talk."

(You snobby, ruthless, smug pain in the ass.)

Fury is free to go and have his cigar over a glass of scotch now. Not that he can find anything particularly good in the Orient. It's something that'll have to wait until he gets back to the states.

When that will be? Maybe he'll wait around until the merc is done with her job. To his satisfaction.

A slow shrug graces his shoulders as he heads for the door, ready to let himself down the ladder. "People die, you get to go home knowing that you've maintained the balance of power in the Orient." Thus allowing certain companies to grow and flourish here under a new flagship. "Then, when you get home, you can get that," Fury gestures towards that weaker side that she seemed to favor earlier, "checked out. We even have good medical insurance."

Now, it's hand over hand that he goes until he jumps the few final feet to the ground.

"Glad we could come to an understanding."