2013.04.15 - Partners in Crime

Jobs can take many different forms. At times they can be stupidly annoying or complex in nature. Other times, they couldn't be any more straightforward. Find this book. Steal this book. Bring this book back for payment. The worst part about it had been tracking down where The Book is set to turn up next, though once Domino gets visual on the car that's been transporting it across the city then things quickly begin to fall into place.

A light mist falls from a dull grey skyline, the time just rolling past ten in the morning. The sounds of the city fade out within this underground parking garage, the air hanging heavy with its chilled humidity that collects within the darkened concrete structure.

One woman. One Mercedes Benz. One set of lockpicks, higher tech than the usual assortment of picks and torsion bar. Security measures may be getting more sophisticated by the hour but there's still ways to get around anything. There's no way that a couple of locks are going to keep her from her prize.

Focus on the positive.

It's something of a mantra, for Amanda, and has seen her through several dark and crazy-making periods in her life. So far, the one positive she's found in the current situation is that the monitoring bracelet she wears hasn't tripped out at all, which means Kurt's still breathing. That's a definite positive.

The one challenge she's had, however, has been in locating his friend Domino. Conventional investigations haven't panned out nearly as well as she'd hoped -- though, if pressed, she'd confess she's not actually surprised by that. Kurt has intimated on several occasions that Domino values her privacy highly. Which, of course, suggests to Amanda that the woman really isn't going to like the method by which the gypsy sorceress has actually found her. It's hard to defend against scrying, after all.

Amanda's no seer, of course, but what's the good of being a witch if you can't use a little magical GPS once in a while? Thus, an image of the dim parking garage clearly in mind, she opens a portal from her personal inner sanctum to its cool confines, and steps through. Stepping out behind a pillar several meters away from the car the mercenary works on, she pauses just long enough to get her bearings.

K-tunk!

A sly smirk creeps across Domino's face as she removes the picks and pops the door open, taking about as little time to accomplish as the other woman teleporting in not too far away. The timing is almost perfect, as soon as the car's door cracks open there's a shift in air pressure, felt deeper within her ears. It isn't the sort of thing that she's dealt with often in her line of work, not without following something like the deafening pop of a concussion grenade within a confined space. This one's more subtle. That alone makes it different, and different is something to take note of.

With complete nonchalance she slips a matte black dagger from beneath the sleeve of her trench while slipping in behind the wheel, hitting the trunk release. The lid pops open with a dull -Thunk- that sounds out within the structure, the patch-eyed albino just as quickly stepping back out. It may look like she's focused in her work but that's only part of the story. She's paying attention to her surroundings.

To say that she likes her privacy is a serious understatement. People have been killed for getting themselves too far into her business. Right now, this book is her business.

The thunk draws Amanda's attention. She steps out from behind the pillar that concealed her portal, garbed not in a flashy hero's uniform or chic fashonista's ensemble, but rather in sensible, non-descript, even utilitarian clothing that's better suited for blending in with an urban environment than a red and silver spandex leotard would be. Dark jeans, low-heeled boots, grey tee, and a leather jacket and loose scarf. A rune-covered leather satchel slung across her chest like a messenger bag.

She lays eyes on the albino woman, notes the black patch around her eye. "Domino." It's not really a question. "You're a hard woman to track down." She raises her hands as she walks slowly forward. They're gloved, but empty, fingers spread neutrally in an effort to lessen any sense of threat -- not that she actually expects the other woman to lower her guard easily. Kurt made that pretty clear. "A mutual friend suggested I find you."

Barely halfway back to the trunk and Domino stops short, that faint smirk once more coming into play. (Of course...) The blade stays hidden from view, the pale hued merc turning to look at the unexpected new arrival without turning the rest of her body. Smaller profile, smaller target. She's not all that big to begin with, either. The other woman's own appearance says quite a bit about her, most likely not another mecernary. Probably not another ..opportunity seeker, like Dom is. The runes upon the satchel won't mean anything at all to her other than making another point. Mystic, magic, occult, somethingorother of the sort.

That probably explains the shift in air pressure a moment ago. She had run a visual inspection of this parking deck before going for her mark. It -had- been empty.

And now it's not.

"Anything worth finding is worth hunting for. Is said 'mutual friend' a wiry little blue guy that shares your trick of appearing out of nowhere?"

(The book, Domino... Yeah, also unknown person at your three o'clock. Pick a priority and commit! Odds of Blondie attempting to run interception on this job? 1 in 37,481. I can run with those odds.)

As though nothing is amiss she finishes walking back to the trunk, nudging the lid open to see what little pile of treasure luck has in store for her today.

Yep. Odds are Amanda has no interest in Domino's treasure whatsoever. And she's happy to keep it that way.

"That's the one," she says, flashing something of a grin, eyes still sharp and alert as she does. Truth be told, it'll take a single word for her to toss up a shield -- especially with her hands raised -- to protect herself from a thrown projectile. And, to some degree, she's just as wary as Domino is about such things. Definitely not a mercenary, however. And not a frontline usually fighter.

She stops a car length away from the other woman, standing neutrally, now. Slowly, she lowers her hands, though she keeps them loose and away from her body, just in case. "Swashbuckler. Flirt. Always in trouble up to his glowing yellow eye-balls." A beat. "He suggested to me we work together to pull his fuzzy tail out of the fire."

Body language is observed, though from Domino's end the initial wave of muscular tension seems to have already dissipated. She'd like to think that she knows Kurt pretty well, any friend that he's likely to have isn't one that's going to stab her in the back. Even -she- wouldn't pull that kind of move. ..Well. Y'know. Usually.

"Yeah, that'd be the one, alright," she confirms with a tiny, tired-sounding sigh. On the other hand, here's her precious book. -Five figures- for the stupid thing! One man's dust collector is another man's lifelong treasure. She's not going to question it.

"That means you'd be Amanda." The extracted blade gets tucked back beneath its sleeve, frowning slightly as she inspects the rest of the personal items within the trunk. "In case it hadn't been said by someone else, the use of your apartment was appreciated." Yet where the trunk is concerned, something in here doesn't ..seem quite right.

"I ran into him a couple of nights ago. Seemed to be doing okay, despite picking an awful place to show up at the time. I've been mulling over some ideas. None of them are particularly neighborly. You alright with getting your hands dirty?" she inquires, once more glancing to the other woman.

Amanda nods confirmation of her identity -- not that she really needs to. Still, it seems polite.

And, speaking of polite, were it Kurt thanking her, Amanda might say 'anytime,' in response. But, since it's not, instead she says, "No problem."

Relaxing a little more -- superficially, at least -- the woman does a casual, visual sweep of the garage. It's a habit for her, too... as it no doubt is for most X-men types. She risks leaning against the hood of the car next to the Benz, gambling on the fact its alarm isn't set. And, since it would be bad luck for Domino if it were, it's probably a safe bet the alarm remains off.

"He's still breathing," Amanda agrees. She taps the crystal in the center of copper bracelet on her right wrist. "I'd know, if he weren't. Believe me." Magic has its uses. Nevertheless, as her arms cross lightly over her chest now, she gives a nod. "I can get my hands dirty. I've had to before." She's no more keen on killing than Kurt is. But, as a magic user, she also firmly believes there are worse fates than death. And (probably as much to Kurt's chagrin as with any more lethal plan) she has no problem dishing some of those out when it comes to protecting Family.

Pale blue eyes shift to the bracelet in question, once more frowning slightly since Domino has no idea what its significance is. Still, she's willing to take Amanda's word for it. "Good deal. Hard enough to keep track of -him,- sneaky teleporting types can be such a pain."

To the confirmation she nods her head once, still appearing intensely focused with the trunk's contents. The book's there, yet she hasn't actually -touched- it yet. "I don't know how many details he's shared with you regarding this particular mess, but it's going to get ugly. His cover isn't going to last for long, best case scenario I'd give it another two weeks. I've already got someone tracking down where the contract originated from, they did a good job of covering their tracks. I'm--"

That feeling, that something isn't right..? Yeah. She just discovered why. There she stands, frowning, a set of black lacquered fingernails lightly drumming once along the edge of the trunk lid above her head. "So. Pop quiz. You find yourself in an otherwise empty parking garage with some crazy albino chick who's got her head in someone else's car when she, for no apparent reason, stops whatever she's doing to tell you that someone's rigged the car to self-destruct if its contents are disturbed. What do you do?"

Pause.

Black and white hands move as quick as a bolt of lightning, grabbing the book mid-turn before she comes -sprinting- toward you like all of Hell is now on her heels.

"Down!"

Acrobat that she is -- not to mention in possession of a healthy self-preservation instinct -- Amanda rolls over the hood of the Beamer she was momentarily leaning against. Her hands thrust skyward as she crouches behind the car, an arcane word on her lips. Even as Domino reaches her, a force shield, shimmering with the violet hue of magic, forms dome-like over them both.

The Benz goes up in an impressive cloud of fire, smoke, and shrapnel. Someone clearly wanted to make damned sure any potential thief paid dearly for the audacity of her act -- the car's owner apparently believing if he couldn't have the book, no one could. Debris rains down. The two women -- and the front end of the Beamer -- are safe beneath the shimmering purple dome.

"I shield," Amanda says in answer to the quiz. The initial explosion settles. Other cars in the nearby vicinity scream as their alarms react to the blast and what sprinklers are still working in the structure start raining water all over everything. "Then, I teleport us the hell outta here before the authorities turn up."

Her hand sets swiftly down on Domino's shoulder. Another soft word passes her lips and the purple dome becomes a golden sphere that envelops the two. For a moment, it feels like they're caught between two planes of existence -- basically because they are. But, when the light clears, they are crouched just beyond Amanda's dining room table in the open space between dining area and living area.

"Work for you?"

That's a fast reaction time, right there. Domino's willing to bet that Amanda has had some training on that front. When the shield pops up she stops herself short, not understanding it or how it came to be but at least having some faith in its ability to help them through the situation.

From where she's ducked down, it's an interesting sight. Hard to see past all of the smoke and artificial rain but there's plenty of airborne Benz-parts colliding with the magical barrier. It's ..kinda hypnotic, frankly.

Moments later they're both far from the scene of the job, teleportation still somewhat jarring as a whole. It's different from when she travels with Kurt. Slower. Fortunately, this time it only reeks of accelerant rather than sulfur.

Once more with perfect nonchalance she picks herself up and brushes off her shoulders, the book safely contained within a half-gloved hand at all times. "Gold star for you, kiddo."

What were the odds of bumping into an ally that could both protect them and get them out of there in such a hurry?

Why, that would be 1 in 215,422, of course.

"Here's the thing," Dom continues along while tucking the book inside of her trench. "We need to find the guy that put the price on Kurt's head and deal with him." Three guesses as to what that might translate to. "Well, either that or try to cash in on the bounty, ourselves. If no one's left to offer the payout, no one's going to waste their time and resources trying. We might well make ourselves open targets for some of the more unsavory types, but he would be safe."

And, see, Amanda has no problem with that. Kurt would have a big problem with that, of course -- the two of them making themselves targets instead of him. The witch can already imagine the tongue lashing she'd get.

Small price, in her books.

She rises in tandem with Domino, moving away from the woman and toward a window, which she opens. A little fresh air to clear out the smoke and stink of the garage is most definitely in order.

"I'm all for finding the source of the contract," she tells her new houseguest, adjusting the slats on the blind to balance airflow with privacy. She chuckles dryly. "With the right spell, we probably could cash in on the bounty. I know Kurt well enough to create an illusion his own mother would believe."

Well. For a little while, anyway. It's somewhat a figure of speech. Amanda's not actually fool enough to think Mystique would ever be fooled for long... and perhaps not quite brave enough to ever want to put it to the test. But, for the purposes of fooling anyone else? Hell, yeah. She can do that.

"It would last long enough to get us in to see just who the hell set him up, anyway." And to do something about it.

There is, of course, another side to this matter. Domino's not terribly anxious to think about it, or what to do about it. What happens once the contract gets dropped? People stop hunting Nightcrawler. But, one needs to look at all of the pieces involved. Two and a half -million- dollars. Mention of 'samples.' A shady group of men making the original trade which he interrupted. There's more to this than just one person. There could very well be multiple -sides- to the whole ordeal. It's not going to be a quick and simple fix.

The guy went and got himself in -deep.-

"Then that's still an option, but I want to know who we would be taking that money from," she states while finding a patch of wall or table to lean back against. "This could get interesting. He needs to be removed from the 'targets of interest' list on all sides. We can do that by giving everyone else something more important to chase after."

Something like what, exactly?

"Something like his mother."

Amanda pauses. There's a stillness in her body that suggests quite clearly she instantly recognizes exactly how dangerous that particular plan of action actually is. Because that could very well (and likely will) put them in the psychotic metamorph's own crosshairs. Crossing Mystique is not something anyone should do lightly. Sure, the X-Men have tangled with her before but, let's be honest: Brotherhood vs. X-Men kind of has the quality of rival football teams -- same goal, different methods. Sacking the other team's star QB is nothing more than smart business. Setting Mystique up like this is a whole lot more personal.

Of course, to be fair, she did essentially set Kurt up. So, you know... turnabout's fair play. Thus, Amanda nods once. Even without Domino's abilities, she knows the odds for surviving this little venture, particularly unscathed, seriously suck.

"Kurt never does things halfway," she says dryly. "But, from what he said, Mystique did set him up. So, you know... seems fair we refocus unwanted attention where it belongs."

God help her.

"How do you suggest we do that?"

"I'm still working out that part," Domino admits while lightly pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't know a whole lot about her. Can't say that I'd really -like- to know a whole lot about her. And, this might sound incredibly self-centered of me, it is, but I'm not willing to make myself one of her targets. By that same count, I wouldn't try to push that responsibility onto either you or Blue."

"These guys are after two things. A suitcase full of money and a container full of samples. By proxy, they want Kurt. They think he has them. Now, this 'Mystique' woman, she's a shapechanger, right? Do these guys -know- that she can't teleport? ..She can't teleport, right?" Pause. "It sounds like they share some physical traits, which can help. When the meeting went down it was cold and dark and people were shooting at one another, be real easy to 'confuse' some of the details. Gotta look at every angle."

"Man, self-destructing cars are so much easier to deal with," she mutters to herself. "First, we figure out who the hell we're dealing with. Then, we try to come up with an idea on how we can lure everyone out of hiding until they're stepping on each other's toes. Pull the trigger, stand well back, do not look directly at the skirmish. I can probably find out who was involved with the trade. What I -don't- know is what the heck motivates his mother. Everyone has a chink in their armor. Maybe Kurt will know what hers is."

Amanda won't argue with that. Self-destructing cars are easier to deal with.

"I'm all for keeping Mystique's attention focussed firmly elsewhere," she notes. She crosses, now, toward the kitchen and hauls open the fridge. "Drink?" Chances are Dom's seen what's in her fridge -- at least she saw what was in her fridge a few weeks back. The leftovers have changed. The staples remain the same. The alcohol is either imported or from micro-breweries, the rest of it bespeaks an attention to healthy living without such pretentiousness or fads.

"As far as I know, no. Mystique can't teleport. But her shape-changing abilities are virtually unrivalled. We get too deep into this and we're going to need some means of identifying friend from foe that she can't easily mimic." Personal knowledge often works. Though, not always. "She's an assassin and very good at it. And she's not about to let anyone else kill Kurt -- it's a right she reserves for herself." A beat. It occurs to her Margali feels much the same way about her. They really are a matched set.

"I was going through some of Kurt's things," she notes now. Her dry smile twists slightly. "Looking for clues that could help me find you, actually. There wasn't much there." Just in case she wondered. "What was there, though, was an awful lot of research into mutant genetics and organizations that have been conducting that sort of research. It could be there are leads buried in there we're not aware of. Just because all this started on the docks, with an apparently random deal he just 'stumbled' onto, doesn't mean there aren't other connections hidden in there somewhere."

"Whatever's strong, cold, and readily available," Domino replies, already prepping to catch any offerings that might be tossed her way.

Define 'dangerous thinking.' Dom's warped little mind is hard at work churning through the scraps of information it receives. They need a way to lure Mystique out. A shape-changing assassin that won't let anyone else kill her son, -except for her.-

Before she has a chance to voice her next idea there's even more info being brought to the table. Notes on mutant research gets her attention in a hurry, both a little surprised and a little confused.

Kurt had pressed her into making copies of the research notes on those mutated roaches living deep under New York City, too. What on -Earth- is that fuzzy blue bamfer up to these days..? "That's a good connection," she absently replies, her expression once more set in a frown as her eyes blankly dart from one detail within the room to another at random. Something's eating the guy. Rounding up all of this information. What is -he- after?

He's not going to get Dom's notes, that's for damned sure. Not until she gets to the bottom of this.

Without any prompting her mind does one more abrupt 180, returning to the other matter at hand. How does one bait the metamorph?

"We need to assassinate Kurt."

"We need to what?"

It takes Amanda's mind a moment to -- she really hopes -- catch up with Domino's. She pulls out a pair of imported German stouts. The sun has crossed the yardarm somewhere in the world, even if it hasn't here in New York. It's hardly 10:30, now, but the idea of trying to manipulate Mystique deserves a drink... even if the details will be better hammered out with a clear head.

She pauses as she regards the other mutant. "I really hope you mean we need to make it look like we've assassinated Kurt," she says seriously. 'Cause the only reason she'd ever seriously consider killing Kurt is for the same reasons he killed Stefan.

Her lips purse a moment, however, as she considers that. She tosses one of the cans to the luckbender, her own thoughts circling around the idea. Crossing, now, back into the main living space, she flops bonelessly into an armchair and cracks open her can. The compressed air escapes with a hiss before she takes a sip.

"Actually... that wouldn't be so hard to pull off -- with or without his help." Her lips curl humourlessly. "Because there's one person in the world I can think of that would kill him without a second thought, and be perfectly willing to go up against Mystique as a consequence. And I know I can immitate ''her'."

Margali.

The initial response is wholly dispassionate, though more because Domino is still working out the details on her own rather than actually planning on murdering one of her closest buddies. "You heard me."

Suddenly: Stout. She gives an absent salute with the can then breaks the seal and puts its contents to use.

"In a way which either looks really freaking convincing or a way which does, but temporarily. He has a hit out on himself already. Has for several days. It's entirely possible that she's been keeping tabs on him this whole time. Who knows, maybe she's waiting for someone to take the bait so that she can use them as another jumping point to dive further into this huge steaming pile. Clearly there's something motivating her in all of this. Given what I know of a psychotic mind, I could easily see her using her own son as bait. Just pretending to have someone on his case isn't going to flip the emotional trigger, we need to make it look like he's been taken out. If luck goes our way she'll flip her shit and come charging forward. If not, then I guess she's worthy of her reputation. And also a complete bitch."

'With or without his help.' That bit earns an all new look of curiosity from the albino's end of the conversation. "You hiding an ace in your sleeve over there, Am? If we can do this without him getting directly involved then I would suggest we go that route. He's likely to pop a gasket if he hears any of this."

They're doing this -for- him, not -with- him. Familial consequences be damned.

Amanda inhales a slow breath before swallowing a mouthful of stout. "Full disclosure. I'm both a magic user and a mutant. My x-gene lets me hypnotize people, but it works best when I add a magic whammy on top of it: There are very few illusionists as skilled as I am." She's not boasting; it's simple fact. There are better illusionists out there, for sure. Most of them, however, are like almost every other master-level practioner: Hermits in seclusion. She's not quite ready to join their exalted ranks, certainly -- either from a skill standpoint or a lifestyle standpoint -- but she's no slouch.

"I grew up with Kurt. I've known him for twenty-five years. Mystique might have given birth to him, but she hasn't actually known him that long. I can make a damned convincing illusion. I also know a spell or two that'll make me look a helluva lot like my own mother -- who's a little pissed at him for an accident that caused the death of my brother. My mother and Mystique have a lot in common: They're both nuts." A beat. "Though I'll concede Mystique is by far better at appearing well-adjusted than Mother is." A beat. "Well-adjusted being a relative term."

Just in case anyone wondered.

"I can masquerade as Margali and make it look like Kurt lost a fight the hard way -- but only if you can cover my ass. Because if Mystique does take the bait, she'll skewer me." Another beat. "Slowly."

More information. Information is such a wonderful thing. Domino is -always- happy to receive lots of it while disclosing absolutely none of it, herself. What Amanda already knows should be more than enough. This woman can do her job without her history being laid out for all to see.

"I appreciate you not demonstrating as much," she offhandedly remarks.

Already it's starting to look like they have a solid plan to stack the deck in their favor. "Assuming that she can't accurately identify a prone shooter from half a mile away, you've got yourself a guardian angel." Yeah..free of charge, this time. It sounds like fun, and the metamorph clearly has it coming.

Dom pushes herself away from her perch of the hour and pulls out a business card, holding it out to the other woman between two fingers. It shouldn't be much of a surprise that the card is decorated front and back to look like a domino playing piece, a contact number printed within one of the boxes. Simple, to the point, says everything that it needs to and not a single letter beyond.

"Sounds like it's time we bumped up our game a little and moved onto the fact finding portion. I'll be in touch."

Amanda rises as Domino does, setting her can aside. She takes the card from the woman with a nod. "Until this is resolved," she says with a tight smile, "mi casa, es su casa. Feel free to drop in." She'll have to adjust the wards. Not so hard. The woman's been here twice, now. The wards have records.

There's not really anything else to say. Not for now, anyway. Amanda will doubtless sift through more of Kurt's research -- because that's what she does. You don't get to be an expert magic user without learning how to conduct obscure and arcane research. And she doesn't doubt that Domino has a host of her own resources she can bring to bear.

"Good luck, partner."