2013.03.22 - Hell of a drug

It was -personal- for Roy Harper. The information he'd gotten from his ex-junkie friend Karl had, at long last, yielded a -major- gang leader, one from Colombia, to boot. That he was in -Gotham-, to boot, was a major problem, however.
Fortunately, at least, he had a friend who knew Gotham inside and out.
And after a well-placed call, Roy Harper settles in. Nominally, this was a SHIELD mission, an -observational- mission.
And yet, because this was -also- Gotham, Roy had carefully explained that this would be best done with him and his 'old friend', if only to keep the omniscient _Bat_ presence from causing havoc.
As he awaited his old friend, Roy Harper regarded the bustling activity of the minions. Just waiting for -that- damned car to pull in so that they could get around to busting... and for the old friend to show his goddamn ass.
"It's the smell of this town," Nightwing says, appearing just behind Arsenal. "It's the smell that keeps people coming back." He sniffs inwardly and wiggles at his nose. It's that time of the year-when everyone is sick. The city is sick, but it's always this way. Always two steps from the grave and his folks and the good people of Gotham trying to prop it up with bandaids, bubblegum, and duct tape. "What have we got?"
Some people might consider it unlucky to have accidentally driven their car into an Asgardian God. Some people aren't Domino. The BMW's at the shop, but she scored herself an evening of drinks and conversation with none other than Thor that day. Also on that day she got set up with a new set of wheels.
At the moment she's sitting behind the wheel of a silver '07 Porsche 911 Turbo. Not too shabby for a hand-down ride. Surrounded by a black leather interior, Shift and the pasty white merc are waiting for the very same deal to go down while indulging in Chinese takeout. She's even found a nice dark spot to hide an otherwise fairly remarkable car, though she keeps a gun on her lap just in case.
"Can't fucking wait for this weather to clear, feels like it's been years since I've been able to get around on a bike. So how's life been for you at the Institute?"
"Jesus Christ. And we're eating carry out chinese food, sitting in -dis- car? It's a good thing we don't look like undahcovah cops trying too hard to fit in."
Shift pins the chopsticks together and tosses them ingloriously into the half-eaten carton of kung pao beef, before stuffing the carton away into the brown paper bag it came from. <He speaks in Afrikaans.>, he murmurs in his native tongue.
Casting a glance toward Domino, a smirk crawls across his face. "Dey are letting me teach criminal studies now," answers the Ghanaian. "Seniors only. Not a pretty class, but den again, neithah are my survival classes."
He goes suddenly silent when a man walking down the street stops to use a pay phone. Turning his head just so, the African eyeballs the man from afar. While he doesn't verbally confirm or deny anything regarding the man's potential involvement in the deal, he does shed some more light on his intelligence.
"I nevah bought from dese clowns, but de product is high quality. Cut for addiction and high rollah's, not profit. Crack whore I knew in town used to tell me she'd do one bump and it felt like seven. Lucky numbah seven." The Ghanaian's recollection of his using days is spoken of with bitter reminiscence. "No idea whether Highball was on blow when he hit dat church. If he wasn't, we're all fucked if he's really rolling on -dis- shit. More so if he's cooking it into hard." Shift shakes his head and murmurs to himself, "Makes sense dough. Ain't a single real n----' in dis crew, far as I could evah tell. Too many italians and southie's trying to chew up de Jersey side of things."
"Bullshit, short pants," Roy grunts, calling Nightwing by that -old- nickname for when Dick was Robin. "It's just begging for people to come by with a nuke and end it all. I tell ya, the only reason some idiot doesn't is because of that big bad Bat. Otherwise, I tell ya, nobody would even -notice- if chemo-warfare broke out here."
Glancing back down, Roy tenses, as a black car pulls out.
"Perfect. About time, and... what the hell?"
The remark is caused as -some- oddball in a red costume, which consisted of pants, a tank top, and boots, and a white flame symbol steps out. "... -that-'s our drug lord?" Roy mutters, tilting his head. "I was expecting someone less... I don't know what I was expecting. Hard time finding pictures of this dude because it was always so secretive." Glancing up towards Nightwing, Arsenal shrugs. Knowing full well that Nightwing was aware of his drug past and why this was so personal, Roy just flashes a grin. "Time to cut this chain off, eh?"
"Ouch," Nightwing sniffles from his cold and looks hurt at Roy. "This. This is my /home/. Words hurt, Arsenal. Words hurt."
But the joking comes to an end as the man of the hour shows himself. "Funny, I love a gaudy red outfit the same as anyone else, but this is not what I was expecting. Any intel on him?" Idly, Nightwing checks on his escrima sticks to make sure they're attached and then slides his hand towards his jumpline gun. He has half a mind to soar through the air and just go for it, but his years with the "big, bad, Bat" have taught him that discretion is the better part of valor. Or something.
Domino lightly rolls her shoulders. "Gotta eat sometime. I'd sooner have Chinese on the run than put up with you lighting up or snorting another line. In a -Saleen.- Fuckin' unreal."
Then Shift has to go speaking in a language which she doesn't at all understand. "Hey, knock it off with that tribal shit, already! You know I don't follow a word of that mess."
Mm, orange chicken...
"You teaching much of anything always concerns me for some reason."
With the situation being outlined, Dom's brows furrow slightly. "How does that make any sense? Unless they're really trying to get a buncha kids reliant upon the stuff, isn't it about the profit margin? Dealers gotta find -some- way of affording their Escalades, and if the needful flock to 'em already it sure beats holding up a bank."
Black car in sight. "Pres--" Joker in red outfit. "--to... Hey, you're seein' this, right? And I'm not delusional from MSG ingestion?" Dom asks while pulling a single shot pistol out of hiding, carefully holding it over the dash so she can get a better look at their peculiar guest through the scope bolted on top. "At least the lack of subtlety award doesn't go to me tonight."
"Hey now," quips Shift. "Since when have I -evah- gone over de line, I mean, for real?" he asks.
Beat.
"Nevahmind. Don't answah dat. And don't give me shit about 'tribal speak'. Sometimes a guy has to say something a lady shouldn't hear."
All in all? Domino giving him crap about that one time in the Saleen, his temporary reversion to Ghanaian during his bout with PTSD, and him actually being allowed to teach at the Xavier Institute? It all gets her one wink of the eye.
"Oh, it makes a ton of sense," answers Shift when the conversation turns more serious. "Gotham's got a reputation. Get kids hooked on dis kind of snow? Dey'll bust into every corner store and rip off any jewelry owner just to get a bump. Den, when they're -really- good and hooked, dey pull de carpet out. Make 'em sell on the cheap for a really low margin, or pull 'em out altogether and have 'em buy from the other guy, feedin' de real boss information on his competition."
Speaking of the boss. Shift eyeballs the costumed fellow with a frown. "Yeah... yeah I'm seeing it." His fingers tense but he stays put, his gear stowed in the back seat. With Domino on hardware, there are other roles he can play if they truly decide to make a move. Suddenly, he pulls out his phone and begins sending rapid fire text messages to one of his old Gotham contacts, trying to work what he can to figure out anything about the boss man himself.
"I hate Gotham," he murmurs.
"Hell if I know. We just know that he's -the- one organizing this, but for whatever reason, his name's been hidden. All I -know- is that he's codenamed 'Snowflame' for some reason, but we haven't gotten much intel on this dude because he -rarely- ventures out of Colombia, and the records there with the drug lords are... spotty. Corrupt cops n' all," Roy mutters. "But apparently his men are -really- enthralled by him or something."
As if emphasize the point, the man called Snowflame turns towards the men approaching him. In a stentorian voice, Snowflame proclaims, "Hurry, my men. Bring out the shipment. Your GOD cocaine demands its presence be delivered unto the flocks of Gotham! Its radiant glory -will- be spread through Gotham, by its will!"
And as men bustle about, opening crates and such, Snowflame strides forth, to inspect the large packages of drugs, bringing his arms forward as if in -worship-.
As Snowflame begins his diatribe, Nightwing steals a glance at Arsenal. "Tell me that this speech is actually happening." He snorts followed by a sigh, "Los drogas make folks do crazy things. Let's do this."
Nightwing does a hand-stand up onto the ledge and springs himself into a swan dive off the side of the building. The rushing air blows his dark hair back as he enjoys the flight just long enough before firing his jumpline gun. Once it catches hold, he swings through the air with an acrobatic grace that probably only comes from someone who was once a carney. Once a carney, always a carney.
His rubber-band-like body twists and turns as he rights himself, trying to kick the White God from Snowflame's hands.
"When you put it like that it does make sense, which is also disconcerting."
"Aw, it ain't so bad," Domino counters with her usual lack of good cheer. "It's got ..." Charm? "It's got personality. Interesting (depressing) architecture... Look, did you want to be staring at tropical plants for the rest of your life? Drugged-up thugs are easier targets than tigers. Don't move nearly as fast."
And Dom would feel positively -awful- if she had to kill a cat.
"Man..." she practically growls with the crosshairs falling upon the druglord whackjob. "One shot and this would all be over. I've made harder shots in my sleep. Be so easy to remove another one of these idiots from circulation."
It's not a job she's been paid to do. Bullets still cost money.
The scoped pistol gets tucked back in the footwell. What remains of her meal gets set aside. "C'mon, Tuesday. Let's go introduce ourselves to his holiness. Maybe I'll get special treatment because of my skin."
"Tigers are more predictable dan junkies," admits Kwabena. "By a margin." He holds up his hands and presses two fingers a hair apart. A small margin. Justification, one supposes.
Snowflame's diatribe earns a disconcerted look from Shift. "Anodah thing about Gotham," he notes. "Everyone here is bat-shit crazy."
Almost in tandem, Shift produces a small pistol from within his jacket. He checks the clip and chamber before tucking it away, then offers a very quick grin at Domino's remark. "White as snow?" he quips, knowing full well the horrible nature of his pun, before popping the door open and stepping out. The X-Men uniform remains safely concealed beneath his leather jacket and jeans, but he leaves the mask off on purpose. Perhaps his reputation has reached this nutball's ears.
"Remembah," he points out. "We are friends of Highball, and he owes us a serious chunk of cash." He's halfway through rehashing their story and plan, when out of nowhere, someone comes swinging down toward Snowflame. "And we... oh, -hell-."
While Shift's boots begin pumping the pavement to close the distance, he begins considering their options. Take the bastard out and find another way to track their targeted serial killer? Take out the swinging acrobat? Silently, he comes to rest upon 'pretend you're a friend, say nothing, and see how this shakes down'.
Just -watching- the drugs being unloaded has Roy frowning, memories crowding him. Ollie going on a journey. Finding comforts with his friends, who had found -joy- in the drug scene. Having to break free of the addiction.
The slight delay has Arsenal watching Nightwing go, which causes him to break free of his reverie. "Hey!" Wasn't -he- supposed to be the impetuous one?
A grapple arrow is fired, directly into a crate so that he can go slide down.
And while Shift and Domino begin to close the distance, and Roy is catching up, Snowflame's possession is knocked to the grown. If possible, his voice grows even more stentorian in his outrage.
"You DARE sully the Great God Cocaine with your -presence-? To treat it with -such- disrespect?! FILTH! Cocaine does not -judge-, but _I_ am the human instrument of its will! And its will..."
Reaching down to grasp -huge- piles of the cocaine that had burst free of its packaging thanks to Nightwing, Snowflame -shoves- his face into it, practically inhaling the entire -handfuls- of snow in loud -snorfs-.
White psychokinetic flames begin to burst from him, lighting the exposed flesh of his body...
"... is for you to _kneel_ before its radiant glory!"
The swing takes Nightwing back up again, but he unleashes his snag before he gets too high, sending him into an arc. He hits the wet pavement and tumbles once to break the speed. In a moment, he pops up wielding a pair of escrima sticks about 20 feet from Snowface, eager to see what the guy's got before he starts to engage. He's also got an eye out for the thugs. It might be apparent to Roy, or it might not, that he's trying to draw the attention so the ginger can flank and attack.
"Hey, don't be dissin' the moontan," Dom says over the roof of the car with a customary lopsided grin, closing her door in turn.
"'We're friends of Highball.' Probably the only time in our lives we're gonna hear those words linked together." Erm. We're what? Oh--oh -damnit!-
This gal wasn't born yesterday. It's Gotham. They're up against a major cocaine dealer. Someone sweeping down from -above?- Not competition. It's got 'vigilante hero' written all over it. Which means engaging would not be wise.
"Remind me again what plan -B- was?" she sides to Shift as the two rush toward the scene.
Then an arrow gets fired into the crates. She -knows- those arrows. "Ah, fuck me."
When the guy they're after starts taking handfuls of powder and --what, transforming it into telekinetic fire or something?-- it changes her approach. With one pistol already in hand she drops the magazine, swaps it out with a different one, racks the slide, and catches the ejected bullet. "Too late for pleasantries, and I'm not touching -that.- Taking the shot, flank his ass."
They're taser bullets, though that might not be too obvious at first. Two pulls of the trigger, two shots slam out into the city air. Instinct tells her to drop this guy and drop him -hard- before he builds up whatever excuse for a power he has.
"Oh, right," Shift asides to Domino as they approach. "You did tell me about always having a Plan B."
Which means, he has no 'Plan B'.
Things go from bad to worse when he watches Highball huffing an absolutely impossible amount of cocaine. Shift pulls up and stops, staring owlishly at the feat. He remembers his own experience with the drug, which of course, has a compounding effect the more its done, and... well, he blinks again when, instead of developing a vicious case of coke eyes, the man starts to burn.
"Oh, dat's just a -great- idea," Shift growls toward Domino. He does as suggested though, and starts running toward Snowflame opposite the direction where the swinging Dick has dropped to the pavement. Flanking Snowflame on either side is a great idea, right?
Nightwing's tactic is apparent to Arsenal, as he lands. "Aw, -fuck me, Dommie, -you- again?! What the hell, are you gonna -show- up the next time I fuckin' take a piss in the Hudson or somethin'?"
No, wait, bitching at the mercenary can take place later, since Dick was so kind to cause a distraction. And so Roy whips out the taser arrows, aiming to knock him down...
Psychokinetic flames burn even -brighter-, causing the arrows -and- the taser bullets to -melt- before they even strike home.
"MASTER!" the men call out.
"Stay back! Cocaine -demands- that you deliver it to the PEOPLE of Gotham. Go forth, and -spread- its word. _Cocaine_'s molten -power- fuels every -cell- of my being, and these infidels... will come to UNDERSTAND its glory!" And since the closest person happens to be Shift... well, even as Snowflame's men does the will of the Great God Cocaine, its prophet, Snowflame, is already closing in slowly, steadily. "YOU! You have -experienced- the enlightenment of Cocaine. It, too, fuels you, does it not?" A flaming hand comes up, coated in cocaine. "Come, let its rapture engulf you -once again-...!"
In addition to the thugs, Nightwing picks up the presence of a couple of others. At first, he's not sure whether they are friend or foe, but as one of them is flanking and the other is being called out by Roy, it seems that the can at least be trusted until the end of this fire fight.
Nightwing develops a few plans and decides to go with the first one. He pulls a handful of small incendiary balls from his belt and throws them towards the stash. He hopes to burn the cocaine away. Perhaps that will allow Snowflame to grow to even greater heights in the short term, but it might be worth the risk. Additionally, because snorting is the second most direct form of ingestion, he knows that smoking would have a less high impact.
The bullets. -Melted.- That's just not fair..! Bullets are her -thing!- What the heck is Domino supposed to do now?! Unarmed and melee, out. Any kind of taser, out. Projectiles, out. Too many friendlies for a flashbang, and then they'd have a blind and deaf bipedal inferno instead of one that can see what he's going to incinerate. Not a huge improvement, all told. She could try a thermite grenade but that runs the risk of killing the guy!
Still standing there with her gun held firm, Dom flatly remarks "Well, I'm out of ideas."
Until Nightwing throws grenades onto the stash. Hello, Thermite. She can join this dance, heck yeah! Out comes another grenade, out goes the pin, and away goes another match for this giant powdered candle.
Skidding to a halt, Shift turns to face Snowflame directly. Even while the self-proclaimed 'prophet' begins lecturing him, his flesh and skin begin to harden with a crackling sound, until the black tone of his African heritage begins to bristle like stone.
"It used to," he admits between gnashing teeth. It's one of those times where anger is easy to conjure, and it's effect on his X-Gene mutation might be what keeps him alive.
Shift begins to bow, as if in worship to the drug in some ridiculous display of obedience. All the while, however, he keeps his eyes locked upon Snowflame, peering at the monstrosity from beneath lidded eyes. When his opponent raises a hand, Shift makes his move. He charges forward like a battering ram plated in galvanized steel and tries to bash right into Snowflame's torso, hoping there's enough force to knock the bastard right off his feet.
The stash of cocaine -erupt-, starting to burn. As smoke starts drifting around, a mild contact high might set in if one's unprepared...
"Aw hell," Roy exclaims, as he scrambles for -his- breather. Still, the scent of it slows him down a bit, as he reacts to it.
Snowflame, however, seems to grow all the more fiery, as the smoke -adds- to his power. Still, he cannot -immediately- react, because Shift was trying to charge forward. And yet... Snowflame stands, his psychokinetic power only seeming to grow, heightening his strength, brute force meeting indomitable cocaine-fueled will. "BURN WITH THE MOLTEN GLORY THAT IS COCAINE! Let every cell of your being -feel- the love, the -glory-, the -enlightenment of Cocaine... ALL OF YOU WILL ALL BURN WITH THE RAPTURE THAT IS COCAINE!" Snowflame explodes verbally as well as psychokinetically, shoving his cocaine ladened hand right into Shift's face with heightened white flames.
"Aaand that only made him stronger," Domino mutters in a defeated tone.
If she was driving something she didn't care about then she'd head right on back behind the wheel then try to run him over. What else -is- th--
Fire. Use your head, Domino. Think about the elements. "Well sonuvabitch," she says under her breath. Away goes the gun as she hurries back to her car. Less mercenary, more firefighter.
She pulls an extinguisher out of the trunk.
Caught before he can strike, Shift's neck pops backward and the momentum of the hit sends him flying. There's a nasty cracking sound, and his arms and legs flail around as they scramble to find purchase on some handhold that doesn't exist. His body soars over the burning stacks of cocaine, leaving behind a contrail of white smoke that seems to be coming from his face.
At the bottom of the arc, his body strikes the wet pavement and explodes into a cloud of thick, black smoke. Moments later, the clouds are drawn inward and re-form into the man again. His clothing now lies tattered on the ground, but he's fully clothed in his gunmetal gray X-Men uniform.
It would seem, however, that for a moment he's been caught off guard. White smoke still rises from a face that seems unburnt, and he reaches up to smack at his nose and eyes.
"Oh... oh -fuck-." He knows that sensation. Eyes dilated, everything rushing at him, adrenaline spiking, and a whole hell of a lot of paranoia. They were right. This shit was heavy.
"Fuck!" he shouts out, but he doesn't make a move. His mind is raging and he doesn't yet know what to do!
"Welp," Nightwing says with a shrug, "You win some, you lose some." As Domino goes for the fire extinguisher, Nightwing tries to give the merc some cover, flinging more devices at Snowflame, but rather than just explosives, these let off a blinding flash. He figures the chick should be smart enough to see it coming. Snowflame? Dude's pretty high.
And now Arsenal's rejoining in the act. Freeze arrows... they've got to work, right?
The arrows are just a little bit -off- in target, but the points are moot, as they're melted by Snowflame even -before- they can detonate and send him into freezing.
"Have you -not- been awakened by the -flaming- glory that is Cocaine?" Snowflake exclaims, turning from the now-enlightened Shift. "Does it -not- fuel your cells?"
The flash-lights slows down Snowflame, as he shield his eyes, and moves, inexorciably, indomitably, towards Nightwing. "Cocaine does not judge! Cocaine -is-. You will -feel- the rush that cocaine -brings- to every fiber of your being, and -understand- that it -is- God!"
"GO, DOMMIE!" Roy shouts, as Snowflame turns his back towards her.
Thanks to the other three, Dom's got plenty of time to prepare.
"Here's something white and refreshing for ya, Snuffles."
The extinguisher's cone gets leveled at Snowy McFlamerson and she lays on the handle, emptying as much of its contents onto the burning dealer as she can manage. This trick may not last for long, she wants to get the biggest impact before he can get around to retaliating.
Also, the Gotham City fire hydrant that a certain bow and arrow wielding ally had struck a few days back... There's ice arrows. "Arsenal, shoot the ground, not him!" Double impact of cold. What happens when the two are combined? Let's find out!
Coming back to his senses (somewhat), Shift watches from a distance as the others keep going at Snowflame. His eyes look toward the burning cocaine, and he considers whether it would be wise to snuff it out or not... but in liquid form, if his body absorbed all of those drugs... he'd be dead in a heartbeat.
Collecting sensory input while raging on cocaine is an interesting experience. The Ghanaian makes a snap decision, and goes charging back toward the combatants. He leaps into the air and poofs into a column of thick smoke, which goes flying over the burning cocaine and raging toward Snowflame's head.
"Snort this!" comes a voice from the cloud.
And then, with reckless abandon, Shift forces his way into the man's face, into his nose, his mouth, and eventually into his throat. Let's see if the patented Shift Choke (tm) will work on a super powered coke monster, or if he'll just cough him out. Hey, if it slows him down, all the better!
Meanwhile, seeing Domino and Shift attacking Snowflame, Nightwing takes it upon himself to go after some of the other goons who were accompanying the big boss man. He engages the first one, using his escrima sticks, bringing the first shot down along the inside of the right knee just as he attacks the head in a downward angled strike against the right side of the thugs head.
The fire extinguishing spray -hits-. The flames smother, growing dimmer and dimmer...
"Huh?" Roy blinks, before he -realizes- what Domino means. A quick draw, a slight fumble of his fingers, and Roy curses the slight sense of off-ness, before he steadies himself, and aims at Snowflame's feet. Close enough, since it hits the ground between Snowflame's feet. And ice arrow meets smothering cloud.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Snowflame shouts, before the scream is drowned out by Shift...
And then the fire extinguishing spray hits his mouth and the ice arrow freezes Snowflame -right- in the middle of a mass of flame-retardant foam.
Needless to say, with their mob boss frozen in place, the thugs fall quickly, as Nightwing takes out a few numbers of them before Roy and Domino join the fight to neutralize the rest.
A few minutes later, Roy is inspecting the frozen mass that is Snowflame. "... man. Is he even breathing in there?"
Best use of a fire extinguisher -ever.-
When it's run its course, or Snowflame becomes just another thugcicle, the tank gets discarded and Domino jumps right back into the game for assorted goon cleanup. If there's anything left to take care of at this point. She's a helper.
When Arsenal raises his question she merely passes him a look, asking "Does it matter?" Give her one good reason to keep someone like this alive. One!
"Hey... Where's Shift?"
It's a fortunate thing that foam is porous. Little tendrils of black smoke waft out from the frozen foam covering Snowflame's face, forming into a progressively larger cloud while Roy is conducting his inspection. The cloud forms a vertically shaped column, then with a sucking sound of air being displaced, Kwabena appears again. He drops to the ground and stammers for a second, before blinking his eyes three times in disorientation.
"Yeah, he is," he breathes in response, before reaching up to his face and covering his dilated eyes.
With a thud, Shift collapses onto his butt, fidgeting as he tries to just roll with the high. "Damnit, damnit, -damnit-!"
Nightwing approaches, after finishing a few thugs, and takes in Shift with a raised eyebrow. He says nothing, but nods to Domino and Arsenal. "Thanks for the assist. Sorry about the splodeycoke. I was hoping for an od. Kinda backfired. Was happy you were there to save the day." He tilts his head. "Cool makeup, by the way."
"... hell!" Roy's reaction is to pull back, rearing to throw a punch, before Shift collapses, and ... "Oh hey, I know you, don't I...?" From somewhere he can't place.
Glancing back at Domino, then Nightwing, Roy coughs. "That's not makeup. Trust me, it's all over."
"We'll get ya detoxed, kiddo. Don't worry," Domino tries to reassure the Ghandian while at the same time trying to keep from inhaling too much of it, herself.
With the arrival of a stationary Nightwing she gets a proper look at the cowled vigilante. She can take a guess as to which team this guy happens to work with. "Hey, it was a good enough idea that I joined in. Was just a guess with putting out the fire."
Cool makeup. The grin she responds with might look ever so slightly uneasy. "Thanks."
Of course, in the next moment she looks ready to haul off and punch Arsenal in the face.
With his hand up to his face to ward off the impending coke eyes, it's Roy's remarks that draw his attention back. He first peers at Arsenal from between two fingers, then snorts some excess snot into his head and tries to look at him properly. He squints for a few moments until recognition sets in. "Harper." Well, his memory's working. "Shift. Latveria. Glad you made it out alive."
Roy's second remark brings the Ghanaian's buzzing eyes over toward Domino. If he were sober, he might not have given her the whole 'undressing with the eyes' treatment, but... come on, the guy got a face full of Snowflame powder and is high as a kite. His lips part to offer some snide remark, but he -knows- that look.
Remark, swallowed.
Finally, the African notices Nightwing. "Don't judge me, man," he offers. "I was just trying to help." Then, to himself, he remarks, "Christ, I'm gonna need a case of beer to smooth dis crap out of me."
Nightwing nosewrinkles, "Well, if Arsenal's been close enough to see, then I must say that I feel sorry for you. He's got a bit of a peeping problem. On behalf of his old crew, we apologize. I'm Nightwing." Dick looks over at Shift and shakes his head, "Not judging--just was making sure your head was not going to explode from all that ice."
"Hey! We've worked together before, that's all... Nightwing, Domino... and... Shift, that's it!" Sighing, Roy glowers at Domino. "We -have- gotta stop meeting like this. This was -my- mission!"
Glancing back at the frosted Snowflame, Roy shakes his head. "And my collar, too. What are -you- guys here for?"
Great, and the other X-Man is about to get on her case, too. Until she gets an apology..! Someone's taking the responsibility for Roy being a brat? Alright, she'll let this happen. "Truth. Probably -too- many times," she adds while sweeping those pale blue eyes right back onto the archer. "What, you don't think that someone with this high a profile might have drawn attention beyond you masked types? This asshole's a real piece of work, I'm more surprised that half of the city isn't right here with us wanting his hide for dozens of reasons! If you manage to thaw him out and he's still capable of meaningful speech we'd like to poke at him for a bit and see what octave we can get out of the ol' voicebox, but I'm not looking to add him to my supervillain collection anytime soon. You guys want him, you guys have him."
Great, and the other X-Man is about to get on her case, too. Until Dom gets an apology..! Someone's taking the responsibility for Roy being a brat? Alright, she'll let this happen.
"Truth. Probably -too- many times," she adds while sweeping those pale blue eyes right back onto the archer. "What, you don't think that someone with this high a profile might have drawn attention beyond you masked types? This asshole's a real piece of work, I'm more surprised that half of the city isn't right here with us wanting his hide for dozens of reasons!"
"If you manage to thaw him out and he's still capable of meaningful speech we'd like to poke at him for a bit and see what octave we can get out of the ol' voicebox, but I'm not looking to add him to my supervillain collection anytime soon. You guys want him, you guys have him."
"I've been through worse," grunts Shift, while suddenly popping to his feet. He sways just a bit, but catches himself swiftly. Looking to Nightwing, he explains for just a touch of extra benefit, "Latveria."
Should explain it well enough.
Jerking a thumb over toward Snowcicle, Shift adds a touch more explanation than is given by Domino's snark. "He's been selling blow to a very dangerous killah known as Highball. Trying to track him down and subdue him so de authorities can handle him. Far as I'm concerned, dough? I'd like to stay as far away from dat nut case as I can. De -cocaine God-?" He shakes his head. "Listen, I may have been a junkie in my youth, but I -nevah- would have called it a god. At least, not openly."
Okay, he's probably spilling too many beans tonight, but, -cocaine-.
Hell of a drug.
"Domino. Shift. Sound like very applicable codenames." Nightwing rocks on his fee a bit before whistling, "Latveria. Nice weather this time of year. Heard about that shindig. You guys are all pretty lucky." Nightwing pauses and touches his ear. "Well, this has been swell, everyone. But it's that time again when I gotta hit the road. Hit and run in Bludhaven, you know how it is." He taps at his wrist and a motorcycle roars to life in the alleyway. "Arsenal, you good with waiting till the fuzz show?"
"I'll do that. Gotta call in SHIELD, anyway..." Roy nods, reaching for his phone. "See you in a bit, Wingster."
There's a brief moment as Roy's eyes searches Domino while he's making a call. "Oi, give me your phone number. We've got to -warn- each other next time..."
"Yeah. Listen, Lady Luck, we'd better go before dat mustache'd guy shows up and starts pretending to be Batman." Shift nods his head Nightwing's way, then flips a two fingered salute toward Roy, before making a rapid -beeline- back toward Domino's car and more chinese food.
"Yeah, no shit," Domino grumbles while pulling a business card out of a coat pocket and holding it over between two half-gloved fingers. It's inked to look just like a domino game piece, front and back, with a phone number and nothing else. She lets her reputation speak for itself.
Nightwing gets a bow of her head in passing. Places to be, drug rings to bust. She knows how it goes. On the other hand, their work here is done as well and Shift looks like he needs to take a cold bath. Eyes are starting to look red, too.
"C'mon, Ruby Tuesday. Food might still be warm."
Category:Log