2013-01-30 A Whole New Gig

"You sure we can trust her?" Scott asks, sitting next to Kwa in a cafe booth, almost like the pair are on some sort of date. The chair for Domino is left open. He knows the answer to his own question, but asks as though he needs some additional backing.

Asking a mercenary such as Domino to pledge allegiance to anything other than money is not something Scott feels entirely comfortable with. So he sips his coffee, wonders, and waits.

"Sure? Dat's a relative answah."

Kwabena has given up on his biker motif in favor of a much less harsh attire. The jacket is still leather, only this time, it is a dark brown and not riddled with zippers. The pants are basic slacks of a dark grey, and nothing more complicated than a black t-shirt beneath. A soda sits before him in a glass bottle, and after answering, he pauses to take a drink from its dark and bubbly contents.

"She doesn't always work for money alone," he offers. "Got to be a good incentive, as far as I can tell, but she won't crack unless we give her a reason to." His eyes stray every so often, keeping a wary watch on the cafe while trying to spot any unnecessarily curious eyes.

That matter of trust had been on Dom's mind since before agreeing to help out in Murybet. Not so much whether she can trust this crew, but if they could trust her. A lot has happened in short order. History is still being written because of their actions. During all of this, one 'Iron Russian' had come to her with the most peculiar idea ever...

Would she like to join their cause?

It's not a question which can be easily answered. It's simmered for days after coming back home, then throwing herself head-long into yet another job. Still, that thought lingered. That, and what else Colossus had to share that day. 'Everyone should have somewhere to go.' It's something which tends to be lacking in her messed up life.

In part, she doesn't know what to expect out of this meeting. In part, she knows exactly what to expect. It's not long before she arrives at the cafe, all black and heavy trenchcoat and dark purple lensed shades that don't help her to be incognito any more than the powder white skin does. "Gentlemen," she offers in greeting while claiming that third seat. Let's make ourselves a deal.

Scott gives Domino a nod and motions to the seat in front of Shift. He takes a sip of coffee, stealing a glance at Shift before beginning. He's wearing a pair of charcoal pants with a charcoal jacket, accompanied by a black turtleneck and shoes. "Glad you could meet us. Should we get right down to it?"

When Domino makes her appearance, Kwabena's head tilts up ever so slightly. They had been through many things, these two mutants, not the least of which were the terrors of Latveria. However, her professionalism remains secure, and it's something the African can surely appreciate.

A cup of black coffee has been set upon the table where Domino has been directed to sit. Steam rolls off the top, and it has been left sugarless. "I hope you like Ethiopian Blend," he offers. The only other given form of greeting is the curious perking of an eyebrow, something she has surely become familiar with.

From behind the deep purple view Domino eyes Shift for just a second, a subtle but present look of appreciation edging into view. "So long as it's not masquerading as cake batter, it's all good with me."

No time is wasted before she lays claim to that unprotected brew, her attention promptly returning to Scott. The shades get pushed up onto her forehead then she leans forward, arms folding across the edge of the small table. Off to a good start, straight to the matter at hand. That's something she can appreciate. "Now you're singin' my song. Whatcha got?"

"Colossus tells us you had a talk." Scott nods over in Kwa's direction, "This guy vouches for you." He takes a sip of coffee, "And I understand you are mulling over joining us. I'm here to see what you've decided."

A vague smirk touches the edge of Kwabena's mouth, but he offers no return fire to their usually typical banter. Instead, he tips his head in agreement with Scott, then focuses his attention on the patch-eyes mercenary. She's bound to have a question or six, and so, he curls his hand around the bottle of soda and takes a drink while waiting for Domino's response.

"Well, let's see if I've got my ducks in a row here," Dom starts in. "You guys run a secret group, not affiliated with any governmental body. You've got mutants in your employ and aren't afraid to travel the world and execute missions with the use of your powers and superior tech. Maybe people ask for your help, maybe you're all just there when things go sideways. At the heart of it, you're what we like to call the 'good guys.' Well and good, you're all unsung heroes. I've no problem with that."

"You've seen what my game is, but I've been told that this wouldn't be a concern. Seems like your Ruskie pal has an interesting history of his own, as does our mutual companion here," she says with a slight bow of her head toward Kwabena. "You should know what you're getting into. My slate is a far cry from being clean, I enjoy playing in the dirt too much for that. My particular ability is a bit more subtle than the rest of you kids, I rely on my gear. Noticed that there weren't many others on your team running around with assault rifles."

Scott shifts a bit uncomfortably as she mentions the backstories of Piotr and Kwa. While Domino is correct, Scott bristles at the idea of bringing it up over and over. "Weaponry and technological equipment is not of any real concern. Those things can be alleviated and adapted. What most concerns me is your reputation as a "pay for play" only."

"In many ways, dose histories are at the heart of what we are about." Kwabena may be the newest addition to the team, but his introduction was certainly not without it's fair share of secrecy and second guessing. At the end of the day, he's a man with a dark past who is trying to do something different. Something better.

He still gets his hands dirty. Ask any mob boss in the five boroughs about that. It's the reason he keeps his real name so carefully guarded.

At any rate, he makes a gesture to suggest that the subject of questionable histories is not exactly what is at stake here, dismissing it almost entirely. "Reputations can be hard to manage or live down. Dey can be an asset or a liability." He's melt making points here, though he feels it important to try and tread water between two people whom he considers very, very different.

Dom takes note of Scott's reaction to her rundown on the group at large. This is the guy running the show, isn't he? Maybe he's got an active conscience, too. "I've been given a particular skill set. You can imagine that there aren't many 'legit' lines of work that I could get into, and a girl's gotta get paid in order to keep living. It started out of necessity, but I enjoy the work. He understands," she sides back to Kwabena.

"What you may not know," she continues with a more meaningful glance to Kwabena, either looking for his vouch once again or silently telling him to keep this to himself, "is that I'm selective. There's plenty of jobs out there that you couldn't possibly pay me enough to take. There's a difference between removing a crimelord from power and hunting some lady's ex because he busted up her place. I've walked away from plenty of contracts because I wasn't given all of the info up front. I've also done my share of off the books help, our run wasn't my first time not being financially backed. I understand that flying with you lot is not a paying gig."

Scott makes a face and nods, "So the question becomes--since you realize this--why do you want in?"

A conceding nod is given when Domino attests to his understanding of the mercenary life. He'd run with her a few times before circumstances brought him to the X-Men broken and defeated, plagued by the machinations of Doctor Doom. Whether she was looking for a voucher or silence, at this moment, he gives her silence.

Instead, the African tilts his eyes toward Scott. The ruby-colored glasses make it difficult to ascertain just what the mutants thinking, however, he makes note of the face, along with the pointed manner in which Scott keeps moving toward such punctuated points. It was a question that had been on Kwabena's mind ever since his injury in the middle east separated him from the others. He knew the mercenary had a conscious, but he didn't know just how far that conscious stretched. Oh, he's concerned for the difficult decisions Scott has to make, but he's also concerned about playing a role in vouching for Domino in the first place.

And so, Kwabena finally breaks the silence with a quiet word aimed back at Domino. "Dere are many ways in which your talents can be used. Sometimes, one has to get dere hands dirty. Dat is something I know you can do, but..." He trails off for a moment, frowning. "It's ugly business, mixing dose two worlds."

Domino releases a slow breath. There are some feelings which are difficult to put into words, the proverbial black and white. "I'm used to ugly business," she quickly injects. "You guys have done alright by Kwabena. I know what you kids are about."

And it might be nice to have somewhere to go for once. And she's got some bad karma to write out of her life. And she can sense a storm on the horizon.

"And you guys trying to do the right thing is something that I can get on board with. We may not need each other, but I'm thinking that we could benefit from one another. Besides, who's gonna make sure he doesn't get in over his head?" she asks with a tiny smirk while looking to Kwa one more time.

Scott sits back in his seat and looks at Domino for a long moment without saying anything. The idea of bringing her into the fold, doling out the secrecies of the Institute and its students, trusting a mercenary on your six....all on the basis that they may not need each other, but they might be able to benefit...The words seem to sour Summers. Still, Kwa vouches for her. Though he's new he's proven himself more than dependable and one of the key X-men, in his mind. Add Piotr to that mix. Scott stares at her trying to make up his mind between the advice of those he trusts, and his own gut instincts. It does not look like a pleasurable experience.

What have we said about black men blushing? It's an advantage Kwabena has, for were his skin tone night as black as the Ghanaian night, they might have seen it happen. "Watch yourself, Lady Luck," he quips, but offers nothing more in her chiding of him. Hey, if she can't handle that nickname being dropped here, maybe it's best she back out now while the going is still good.

The difficulty etched into Scott's face is noticed. Kwabena shifts (hahaha GET IT?) in an almost uncomfortable manner before leaning forward and speaking quietly once more. "I propose we bring her to the next opahration. See if she likes playing by our rules when dere are not SCUD missiles involved."

Domino could sit there with baited breath and wait for a decision to be made, but that tends to not be her style. Nah, she's going to turn things around and play the other side. After shooting Kwabena with a quick glare, that is. It's not 'why should she join them,' but 'why wouldn't you hire her on.' "Not many people get this kind of offer. I've got skills, knowledge, resources, and a magic touch that you're not going to find anywhere else. Or would you rather have us play in a few more sandboxes to build some trust?"

Scott crosses his legs as Kwa gives his recommendation. A raised eyebrow towards Domino as she counter offered. "I've seen a lot of people come and go, Domino, over the years. Met thousands of mutants and about 85 percent of them have the same, hackeneyed, blase, I'm best it is at what I do attitude." He pauses. "You know what I do? I keep those people alive. I make them effective. I've got skills. I've got knowledge and resources. What I need, is to know that the people we bring in are going to be with us when the chips are down."

"Luckily, you've shown that you have that inside you too." Scott looks between Kwa and Domino, "She begins training on Monday morning. I'll see you both at 6 a.m."

Scott reaches into his wallet and throws a couple of dollars on the table for the coffee and the tip. "Be seeing you," he says before he stands up and looks for the door.

A slow smirk spreads across Kwabena's face. He reaches around the table and claps Domino on the shoulder. "Hope you're ready for some target practice." Without further adieu, he stands as well, taking his bottle of soda with him.

Somebody find a jar to contain Domino's enthusiasm. With the final piece laid onto the table, she's got herself a new gig. Her response? A clicking sound from the corner of her mouth, not unlike pretending to cock the hammer on a pistol.

"Glad we had this talk."

For whatever reason, Scott seems like he's anxious to get out of this joint. Which leaves Dom and Kwabena behind. Pale blue eyes seek his off-colored ones, holding the look for a second.

"Looks like it's your turn to drive."

Shift smirks casually on his way out. "Buckle up."