2013.05.23 - Super Beli

It was only a matter of time. Again. Domino's back in Madripoor. Again. If she could invest in a point to point teleporter, she would. Until then, oldschool transportation is going to have to do the trick.
Like the 1969 Dodge Super Bee she's claimed as her own. On lots of other cars the lime green and matte black paint slapped on top of a massive chrome-accented frame would look seriously out of place. Around here? Fits right in. It's almost discreet in its own right, even with the custom black wing decorating the trunk lid.
She's sitting (slouching) behind the wheel, the black leather seat reclined just enough that she can prop a strap-covered boot onto the dashboard. A carton of Chinese food rests on her abdomen, chopsticks idly working to destroy its contents piece by piece.
The last time she had done this was in Gotham City in a 911 Turbo. Even the company is the same.
"Can't believe you talked me into coming back here again, Harper."
"Aw, babe, you know you -couldn't- stay away," Roy teases, though what she was supposed to stay away from, the ginger agent doesn't say.
They were parked outside one of Madripoor's finer gentlemen's establishments, and curiously, Roy was -still- seated inside the car, eating quietly as he kept an eye at the coming and goings.
It wasn't too long ago that Domino'd made her return, and Roy had been waiting, -just- so that he could immediately and shamelessly mooch a ride over to -this- district.
It'd taken some -fast- talking (and a number of ducked swings aimed at his face) before Roy convinced Domino that, yes, there -was- a perfectly valid reason.
Actually, it'd been simpler: show Domino a picture of young Belikova and a young Chinese triad leader in front of the Celestial Temple in Beijing, and then tell her -precisely- where the photo had come from, and -who- the man was. And do this all quietly and hush-hush.
It'd at least gotten Domino to -be- here, watching for the triad leader. Although she must have -plenty- of questions yet to be answered... and at least, in this car, she could get them without Roy having room to -duck-...
"Does that line ever work?" Domino pointedly asks with a sidelong glance your way. "Though I suppose this would be the right moment for me to point out that you waited all this time for me to come back to this country just to drive your sorry ass out to a stripper joint just so you could sit in here next to me with some passably acceptable Chinese, instead."
After a moment of thought she gives a half-shrug, "Least it doesn't pay half bad."
Her carton of lo mein is set aside, plucking a fortune cookie from the cupholder and breaking it open.
Good fortune will soon be yours. "Yeah, no shit."
"So. Mind telling me who that guy in the picture is and why we're staking out here waiting for him? I get it that she's got close ties to Beli, but what the hell, Roy. We gonna curb-stomp some Triad old-timer until he spills the beans on her, or something? Obviously you wanted me around to see whatever you've got planned so quit leavin' me in suspense and spill."
"If it -worked-, I'd be able to tell you whether you had -any- birthmarks tucked away. So far, all I can tell is that you are pretty much nigh perfect," Roy comments, although there's a distracted tone to it, mostly perfunctionary, as though he was letting his mouth run on auto-pilot while his attention was tightly focused on the people coming and going. "And unless you volunteer to wear a cheongsam and act like you're for hire, there's no way we're both going in there. And I'm not going in without backup for -this- guy. Not for -that- Triad dude."
Motioning in the back where Roy'd thrown a bag earlier, the ginger agent comments, "Check out the dossier."
The heavy bag contains not only Roy's equipment, but the aforementioned photo that he'd tucked back in there earlier, and a box of hastily assembled papers, folders, and material, all with SHIELD unclassified stamps.
A quick overview shows:
Leung Jingbao, aka "Sam Leung"
Ah Kong Society.
It goes on to describe how the former group, long reported disassembled, had simply gone underground, retrenched into Madripoor, and rebuilt itself. An organized crime syndicate run by Chinese Singaporeans, it'd been painstakingly reconstructed quietly into a triad, a -family-. Perhaps more importantly, it'd been focused on loansharking, bookmaking, gambling... which wasn't really a major thing in Madripoor.
Roy's highlighted pen marks, however, severely underlined one thing in the dossier:
Drug trafficking
Any comments about her being perfect are quickly put out of her mind. She had been part of that whole 'perfect weapon' program, after all. Not the thing she wants to be thinking about right now.
Dom's current project, a pork egg roll, gets caught between her teeth like a giant stogie as she reaches back for the manilla folder that cops, feds, special agents, contractors, and SHIELD alike all seem so bloody fond of. She goes right back to nibbling while looking over the folder, now propped up on the steering wheel.
Drug trafficking. "Who the hell cares? What are you, some sorta--right, don't answer that," she cuts herself off with a weary sigh. "So we're chilling our heels outside of this skinfest waiting for ol' Leung to show so we can make the streets of Madripoor slightly cleaner for half of a week. Because that makes perfect sense," she grumbles while flipping the folder closed with one hand at the spine.
And people wonder why she works alone!
"He'd better get out here soon or I'm going to see what all of the fuss is about why we can't go in there as we are."
"No, we're not," mutters Roy. "What I want to know is why -Belikova- knows this guy... and why we haven't done anything against -him-."
And it -should- all fall in place why Roy is essentialy stalking this guy, and why Belikova's name wasn't mentioned at -all- once during this whole stakeout, the dossier... the picture...
Although, quite likely, about now, it might sink in that if Belikova had nothing to do with this...
... there was no pay coming from -her-.
For a moment, Domino hesitates. The pieces, as usual, all fall so neatly into place.
The folder gets flicked into the back where she had got it. Her other hand, now free of food, supports her forehead with an elbow propped up against the door.
"Goddamnit..."
Not only did she get pulled back to this part of the globe to drive you out to this club and wait for some old creep but, apparently, she's doing it so far under the radar that she's not getting paid.
"Time to level with me, Roy," she says in a flat tone, suddenly turning her full attention toward you. She's switched arms, now propped up by an elbow digging into the back of the seat beside her. "Either I'm getting paid for this gig or you're going to owe me a favor, of my choice, to be redeemed at a later date when I specify. I'll give you a ride. Hell, I'll help you move a sofa. But I am not getting this far into this shitstorm from your lack of grace alone. Give me a compelling reason to stay put or I'm taking Mean Green here and going somewhere where they believe in proper reimbursement."
Maybe Belikova would pay her well for some information on this case.
"I'm paying you," Roy says brusquely. "If I have to work -one- mission with that Baroness to get the money, I -will-. I just need to -know- whether or not I can trust -her-. Because..."
Sighing, Roy rubs his head. "Dig for the other dossier under the bag. It's not a closed book, but I figure you -ought- to know why..."
And if Domino takes a look, well there it is:
Roy William Harper, Jr. Codename: Arsenal.
And in it will be laid out an edited sordid history of Roy Harper. The sort of detailed report that's in a person's background check. Orphan. Sidekick. Junkie. DEA agent. Checkmate. SHIELD.
And Roy wasn't -saying- a word. Simply letting her sort it out for herself. Why Roy was so adamant about pursuing druggies. Who his handler was in Checkmate.
There's, however, large chunks that seems to be redacted.
And clearly, Roy'd gotten his hands on his own dossier -somehow-, the one that wasn't -supposed- to be seen by anyone outside the upper brass of SHIELD or Checkmate.
And before Domino can say -anything- about what she's read, Roy grunts. "Don't," he says. None of the angst, none of the emotional stuff. Just take the information, and digest it.
One thin black eyebrow hooks upward slightly. "You're going to pay me with money you don't have?" Yeah. No. Dom's not buying that.
There's another bout of hesitation as she continues to stare at you with that hard but pale gaze before she seeks out the other file. Whatever it is, it had better be good. Her patience is wearing dangerously thin.
It's kept in check. At least for the immediate moment. There's a lot to read through. Some of it is skimmed. Some of it is mentally ripped apart for every scrap of useful intel.
Jesus, practically got his entire life laid out in here.
Your pre-emptive comment couldn't have been timed any better. She's just about to say something, mouth starting to open, when you cut her off. There's more to this than giving her a reason for why you're pursuing this hit.
It's proof that you really trust her.
Still no words are spoke as she closes the second folder, more gently this time, and lightly tosses it onto the back seat along with the first. She's not sure whether to be pissed off that you've backed her into this corner or pleased to have earned the trust of a SHIELD-monger.
This is going to be a long night. The thought of something to pass the time gets her thinking about those cheap travel games, like the Chess board with the small plastic pieces with weak magnetic stickers on the back.
Despite herself, the situation, the tension in the air... Domino starts laughing.
All she can do about it is slowly shake her head. "Everything's coming full circle already."
"Yeah, well," Roy sighs, motioning to the dossier. "I trusted -Contact-, okay? So I just want to make sure..."
Roy's voice trails off as Domino starts laughing, and the SHIELD agent arches an eyebrow, his attention pulled away from the doorway of the Klassy Kat finally. "What's come full circle?" he asks, reaching out to grab ahold of the Chinese food left on the dashboard.
It's perhaps a mark of just how distracted it was that his food had been left untouched until now, and Roy Harper practically wolfs it down. And the look in his eyes... he was practically stuffing his mouth because he -wasn't- about to go getting all -verbally- emotional about his past. Self-defense mechanism, really.
Domino draws in a long breath, trying to settle the fit of giggles that threatens to consume her. "I was stuck in Hell for a couple hours and we were talking about doing nose-dives in--" she quickly trails off, passing another sheepish glance your way. "You probably had to be there."
Ahem. More important matters to worry about here, girl.
The one leg gets pulled off of the dashboard, the albino scooting upright behind the wheel then bringing the seat back up. A quick check shows that the cut-down Mosin Nagant is still where she tucked it within the footwell, topped off with five armor-piercing rounds. Just in case she needs to take another car out of commission. "Tweedle Dee better hurry the hell up, I've already spent way too much of this week being bored."
Looks like she's still in this game with you, after all.
"God... I don't think he's coming out," Roy sighs. "Probably balls-deep in... how much -stamina- does he have anyway...?"
Roy polishes off the fried rice, before reaching down for the drink, and taking a swig of now-lukewarm coke. Which tastes somehow -more- sugary. Not surprising, considering what American coke was made with. "I just... want to bust the guy doing -something- with his drug buddies, but at the same time... I don't -dare- take him down without Contact. But if she's hiding him from me..."
Oh, -now- the emotional conflict comes gushing out, and Roy immediately shakes his head, and fills his mouth with coke. The -legal- kind. Damn it.
Pausing, Roy glances up. "... wait, where are you going...?"
"Fortunately, I don't share your compulsion to wait," Domino replies while stepping out of the car, Nagant in hand. She's just about to start walking on in when she stops, reaches in through the window, and neatly plucks the keys from the ignition. In plain sight. Just because it's you.
The cut-down rifle gets slung back into position behind her right shoulder, quickly working out a few muscles in her spine before she starts walking toward the club. Covered in weapons. Perfectly visible across the board. Either they won't care and she'll get inside without a problem or they'll try to intervene and find themselves with broken wrists. Both options are fine with her.
As for the chances of her walking in there at the exact moment that their mark is doing something worth taking him down for? 1 in 82.
Easy.
Cursing, Roy secures -everything- in the car, including grabbing the bag and securing it with something rigged to explode the bag if it didn't have an authorized code. Locking the doors, Roy hurries after Domino.
Inside the Klassy Kat, the Madame of the joint, a large woman with huge muscular arms intercepts her. "You're not allowed to come in -armed-," she says. Her enforcers are with her at once. "Leave the weapons behind. No guns, no lay."
In an instant Domino's got this other woman sized up, top to bottom, including a psychological profile which, while purely guessing and instinct on her part, is further backed by the mound of variables that come pouring in.
"Good thing I'm not here for the company."
No dice.
"Look, we're just trying to get through to a buddy of ours in there, it'll only take--"
Nope.
Once more she releases a quick breath, turning to look back at Roy now that he's had a chance to catch up. "Whatcha think, Bard?"
She doesn't need you to give her the okay. She's more wondering if you think that you'll be able to keep up with her once she forces her way on through.
Running a hand through his hair, Roy grimaces. Wasn't -he- supposed to be the hasty, reckless one here, Domino?
Asking Roy to improvise was, you know, just asking for trouble.
William Bard drapes an arm around Domino's shoulders. "You'll have to excuse her. She's just so -eager- to see Sammie that she hurried here. She's even dressed up -for- him. You know his, uh... tastes, right?"
A wink from Roy at the Madame, who -almost- blushes. Almost. "Well, yes," she says, sizing up Domino with a look. "But the guns..."
"... are part of the show. See, once she takes it all off, she's going to..."
"All right, all right, go on ahead. He's in the Peony Room upstairs."
"Thanks," Roy grins, quickly letting Domino go, mostly out of self-preservation as he moves towards the stairs quickly, making sure to HURRY up well ahead of punching range...
Well now. How's that for working the system? Domino flashes the bigger woman a smile through all of this, followed with a wink and a clicking sound from the corner of her mouth as they're both allowed inside. Complete with her arsenal.
Surprisingly, no punch is forthcoming.
"Nice play."
Thing is, she's often an impulsive sort. Since hanging out with you, you've been stealing her thunder. Taking that initiative then holding on for dear life in the hopes that her power will sweep down and save them both. Now, doing a job for you, with zero money up front? Hell. She's got nothing to lose but time, and her time is money. If you think she's going to sit around and twiddle her thumbs waiting for something to happen, you're going to be very mistaken.
Once inside the club proper the sound is deafening, the smoke is athesma fit-inducing, and the colored lights are an eyesore which pool across the glossy finish of her blacked out armored skin. A careful eye is kept out for exit routes, whether intended for such a purpose or not. They're looking at some pretty good odds of this place exploding into utter chaos before they get back to the car.
"I've almost missed these moments that we've shared."
The same notice is taken by Roy. Fire exits here, fire escapes at the end of the hallways, no -exits- from the rooms except in hallways (makes perfect sense, no way for customers to try sneaking out except where they'd be noticed and prevented from, ah... early withdrawals...).
A small grin crosses Roy's face. "What, the moments -before- we get in trouble, or the moments -after-?" 'Bard' retorts, as he glances around.
"You might want to unzip that suit a bit lower," he adds, before leading the way to the Peony Room, which was clearly marked with the flower. A private... 'conference' room, at least, and guarded by two triad members outdoors.
Noises from the room, at least, sounded more like 'entertainment' was consisting of music and dancing, rather than the horizontal mambos.
"Hi, fellows. Sorry we're late, she had a wardrobe malfunction. Her zipper got stuck. Show'em, honey."
"During," Dom replies with a thin grin.
It doesn't last for long. When the suggestion is made she passes you a meaningful glance, "You're just suggesting that for your own benefit." Still..given where they now find themselves, there are worse ideas to be had. She can safely get another few inches without risking any problems for herself along the way (thank you combat harness.)
Sure enough, in no time at all Roy's putting her assets to use. Dom takes the opportunity to look puzzled, and, quite possibly, drugged halfway out of her mind. "I think it's too tight or somethin,' can you see this?"
The view is something to remember. Partially on count of her driving a knee up between the legs of the guard that she cons into getting a closer, unhindered view.
Half-gloved hands latch onto his shoulders, running him head-first toward his buddy in the same moment that she neatly sidesteps. It's like ramming a pair of bowling balls together, there's a satisfying Clunk! then both go down to the floor.
"And now you have some weapons."
And not much time to pick them off of the guards then catch up, it would seem. Dom's already got her eye on the prize, progressing further to their mark.
Just catch him doing something meaningful and bad and we can get this show on the road...
Part of the perks of the job, is what Roy is tempted to say, if only he wasn't busy playing it cool. But hey, nothing said he couldn't enjoy what he could, and Dom was, at least, aware it was a -reasonably- good suggestion in this location.
Waiting for Domino's cue... it becomes apparent that Domino's idea of bracing the man wasn't to do -any- of that nonsense the dancers would do, but to just -bust- him...
And as Roy ransacks the bodyguards for the weapons, Domino bursts into the Peony Room...
... to catch Sam Leung calmly seated at a table...
CLICK-CLACK
... and a gun being held to Domino's head at the doorway.
"You should not have come," a dulcet voice speaks, accented in Russian.
Domino knows that sound. A little too well, perhaps. Belikova's certainly aimed that Russian-made pistol of hers at the merc enough times by now.
"See, Bard? I told you this was a bad idea."
Open, empty hands drift away from her sides, caught completely flat-footed as it were, and yet there's the faintest hint of a smirk still upon black-coated lips.
"Were you waiting there for us this whole time, Beli? I'm flattered. Seriously, you don't call, you don't write... I was starting to get worried. Clearly you're alive and well, so we'll just be turning around and heading back out now."
This is wrong. The pieces aren't situated just right, not yet. We could do this now and I'd still kick her ass but this isn't the right moment for a showdown.
"What the hell..." Roy begins, bringing his procured weapons up to bear on Belikova.
Belikova barely blinks an eye. "Harper, when I told you to procure the satellite codes, I did not recall asking you to dig around Mr. Leung's office."
"Drop the guns now!" Roy says, his voice cracking only slightly, but his aim steady.
"Or what? You think her -luck- will save her from this? You might be right..." Belikova says, as a second pistol shifts up to aim at Domino, at the same time Sam Leung brings his own two guns into play.
Four guns.
One gun might conceivably jam.
Two, perhaps.
Four? The odds... were extremely low that -all four- might.
There was a pause, as Roy assesses the numbers...
"Dom?"
... and waits for Domino's response. This was -her- life. Her call.
Wait. Satellite codes? What the Hell is he getting Dom into?! Or trying to and failing, as the case may be.
"Roy..." she says in a low tone, warning him off of making any careless decisions. As it is Beli seems to know about Dom's little talent, and has taken it into account.
The odds of four guns jamming at the same time, that's ridiculous even by her standards. Her best chance would be to dive forward and to the side, lead both shooter's sight pictures toward one another rather than on her. The resulting crossfire would be a problem for them both. But, that doesn't take something else into consideration.
Roy Harper.
If she makes her move, if she plays this one out, the odds of him getting shot?
1 in 6.
"Stand down, Harper." If Beli wanted to pull the trigger she would have already.
It's not just her life. It's everyone's.
Besides, she's going to need him alive for later when she beats some new intel out of him. Satellites! The fuck, Roy?
Taking a deep breath, Roy slowly engages the safeties. If -Domino- didn't want to take those kind of odds, then he wasn't.
Lifting the pistols by the trigger guard to show the safeties were on, Roy drops them on the ground, kicking them far towards Sam before Belikova even has to instruct him.
"Well, it wasn't -me- who was poking around Sam's office, but you knew that. So, Contact... tell me, how long you been sleeping with the enemy?"
Belikova does not move, not even to reply, keeping her guns firmly fixed on Domino. "Drop your weapons, Thurman."
Contact's dulcet voice hardens. "And both of you can keep your hands where I can see them. _Especially you_, Harper."
Roy's disarmed. He's out of the fight. That changes the odds. Between the two of them, Domino's now the most dangerous opponent to Beli and Company.
It's like one big hand of Poker. Reading expressions, gauging stress and emotional states, motives, desires. Time itself slows down as the albino's mind processes so many fluctuating variables. People, guns, angles, approximate weight of trigger pulls and current pressures being applied, lighting, obstacles, the thumping of the club's music, heart rates, breathing patterns, dilation of pupils...
You're going to do something crazy, aren't you.
Another thought flashes through her mind as she gauges Beli's aim. Two pistols, both right next to her head.
Duck Duck Goose.
"Roy..."
Don't fuck this one up, Domino.
"Goose."
Instinct takes over. Action by mutation. This game is officially in the hands of Lady Luck.
Dom's a monochromed blur as she dives toward Beli, aiming to shove one of the woman's pistols up against the wall and twist the other one toward Sam.
She needs a shock. Something to trigger Beli's hair reflexes. Hopefully a headbutt will do the trick. She really hates that move, no one wins with a headbutt, though if she can get Beli to touch off the trigger of that one gun?
No more Sam.
"Goose...? What..." Roy begins, before Domino makes her move...
The move does indeed take Belikova by surprise, as her finger -pulls- on the trigger...
... and the gun -jams-, of all things, as Sam pulls the triggers too late, gunfire ringing out -behind- where Domino was originally standing... thankfully, at least, Roy is off and diving to the side, even as Belikova drops the jammed gun, using Domino's momentum to try and pull her down onto the floor in a tense armbar. Not that it would hold for long, and Belikova, all sense of composure -gone-, is practically howling into Domino's ear, "Shoot -Sam- in the shoulder, and then get us out of here!"
Jam? Jam? But the gun wasn't even pointed at Domino!
Shit!
"What?!"
Is Beli playing the double agent here? Whatever, more time to worry about that later. Threats to deal with, and Beli's not one of them! Out comes a K-100 9mm in one hand, a handful of Russian Bitch being claimed within the other. She takes her shot at Sam--three, actually--to both cover their hasty and unexpected retreat as well as (with any luck!) smack him around a bit.
But not kill him. Apparently he's still in the cards. How, Dom has no idea. But if she couldn't get Beli's gun to land the kill shot when it should have? Sam must be really fucking important to the albino, somehow.
"I've changed my mind, Roy!"
The Triad member is sent flying from his chair, blood splurting out of his shoulder, even as Belikova -drops- her gun as she clambers to her feet, 'struggling' with Domino quickly, whispering, "Take me hostage" in a fierce undervoice, before spinning around to 'wrap' Domino's arm around her neck.
As people start stampeding down the hallway, Roy stares at Domino. "MAKE UP YOUR MIND!" he shouts, before finding himself being choked out by one of the now-revived door guards.
A quick instep, a flip of the guard against the wall and then a punch to the face, and Roy is already hauling ass down the hallway towards the fire exit.
And Belikova practically -pushes- against Domino while 'struggling' with the 'restraint' around her neck... Move, move, before... oh look, the Madam's bouncers are storming up the stairs with guns.
Know what happens when one lives off of impulse and instinct? They end up living in chaos.
Christ, Domino, what did you stir up this time!
Beli doesn't need to do a lot of encouraging. She knows Dom's name, after all. That arm around her neck? It's a genuine 'you're coming with me' hold. The gun at the Russian's temple? Loaded, chambered, hammer back, finger on the trigger.
"Best make a path unless you want this bitch's brains decorating the wall!"
The next comment is a seething hiss beneath her breath, directed right at Belikova's ear. "Don't think that I won't after that, either."
How could things get any worse? Oh yeah! The Madame's cronies. As soon as they get out into the hall, Dom offers "Take a gun, Roy. Got plenty to spare!"
Another 9mm pistol. A massive, chromed .44 revolver. A cut-down Mosin Nagant rifle. And blades. Lots of pretty blades. Walking armory, right here.
Sitrep: Roy's still a world-class jinx.
Oh no no, you can't blame _Roy_ for charging into that situation now! He wasn't the one charging -into- the Klassy Kat!
"Is -now- really the time, Thurman?" Belikova mutters, although not too loudly, as she moves along.
Roy, meanwhile, grabs ahold of one of Domino's weapons off her bodysuit (along with a "I'll buy you dinner later" for totally feeling up her thigh), and aiming the guns above the hallway entrance long enough to rip apart the beaded curtains there and send them crashing down into the ground, causing little balls to scatter.
A few men slip and slide, but others carefully pick their way through. The Madam's guards are -more- cautious about shooting. "Let her go," one of them says, advancing slowly, keeping their guns up.
"... Fire exit?" Roy whispers, next to Domino, gun at ready.
However, the job had all been on Roy's shoulders. Without him, Domino never would have been caught up in this to begin with!
So there.
"Call me that again and we're gonna have ourselves a real problem," Dom warns in a low tone.
When the guards call out their demands she calls back with "That's exactly what I tried telling them! Wouldn't listen, go figure."
The fire escape would be their best bet. It's not the most glamorous of options and it's cliche as hell, but hey. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Just break it some more.
"Do it. You're on point, move!"
She's still got quite a few bullets remaining in the pistol that's keeping Beli covered. She can spend a few to keep the other guards at bay. Multi-tasking at its finest!
"Right," Roy replies, , as he dashes down the hallway, bashing the fire exit door open with his shoulder, keeping the .44 Magnum at ready. Dashing down the stairs...
And then just as Domino arrives at the fire exit, here comes Roy again, dashing -up-. "Up, UP!" he shouts, as he hauls tail for the roof.
And if Domino wants to take a minute to look, she can see triad members' hands coming -up- their direction.
And -now- Belikova shouting in Russian. << Up! Up! >> as she 'struggles' her way.
The damp dank air that meets the group at the roof is stifling, and overwhelming, and as the duo arrive, Roy closes and bars the door behind them. It wouldn't hold for long, but...
"Now what?"
Around them, plenty of space, but not a good safe jumping distance to the next building. Fire escapes... except for the noise of people apparently clambering onto it. Surrounded.
Air vents, emergency hoses for fighting fires, and... that was pretty much it for this building.
Fire escape. Progress.
Up?! Domino quickly glances down.
Triad. Setback.
By the time the trio makes it to the roof Dom's no longer holding onto Beli. What's the point? They've got bigger problems to worry about.
Of course, she could probably just jump and hope for the best.
"So, this isn't turning out all that great, huh."
The fire escape is out. They have a hose, that's..doable. What would really help them is some sort of diversion. Problem is, those are difficult to pull out of thin air.
Even for her.
Delegate. "Roy, hose over the edge, we're gonna have to do some climbing. I'll keep our friends occupied."
Beli, stay the hell out of Dom's way.
She's been wanting an excuse to use the Mosin. Now, with a bunch of guys running up flights of metal stairs, having the extra oomph of a rifle caliber in an armor-piercing package sounds like just what she needs. The first shot lights off with a foot-long fireball, the slug leaving the truncated barrel, passing through over a dozen layers of reinforced sheet steel, through a Triad guy from the shoulder to the hip, and into the concrete surrounding the foundation.
"Sorry, cool kids only!"
There's a quick look between Roy and Belikova, before the agent nods. Grabbing ahold of the hose, while Domino -explodes- steel and flesh in a single shot, Roy grabs ahold of the hose, while Belikova reaches down, plucks a knife strapped to her thigh, and then cuts her cheongsam dress up to around thigh level. Making a few quick strips, Belikova shares her cloth scraps with Roy, as the two start wrapping their hands. There's a brief moment of glaring between the two, followed by an impromptu session of "Rock, scissors, PAPER!", and then Roy grabs ahold of the hose, having apparently won, and dashes towards the edge of the building...
"GERONIMOOOOOOOOOO!"
before jumping off the ledge, gun firing to clear out triads from below..
Following on his heels was Belikova, who promptly lets the hose whip between her wrapped hands until Roy was nearly at ground level before stiffening her back and yanking.
She couldn't -stop- the descent, but it allowed Roy just enough time to land on top of a closed trash dumpster, and bounce off, crashing into the ground.
Stirring quickly, Roy takes advantage of Belikova's having retrieved her weapon.
The Russian woman was laying cover fire, heedless of the smoking wraps and scraped-raw skin on her hands, and Roy secures the hose.
"Your turn!" Belikova calls out.
-KaPOW!-
Dom ducks back around the edge of the roof while chambering round three, the hefty brass clanking down the steel stairway after the body that had been felled by its projectile. "How're we looki--"
Did Roy just jump?
Shit, she doesn't have time for this. He either survived or he's sidewalk scrapings by now. Next up! One more shot is loosed from the cut-down cannon before she throws it back behind her shoulder, hurrying toward their makeshift escape route.
"Out of time, you're coming with!"
Times like this she's glad to have gotten into the habit of wearing gloves. It makes the descent much easier, fingerless as they may be. She, too, drops feet-first onto the dumpster, buckling and rolling with the impact to land square on her feet right beside the metal bin a second later.
Also, the car keys get flung out toward Roy. "Harp, you're wheelman!" He only had the one gun, with a max of six shots at its prime. She could still keep up an extended firefight.
Belikova had the presence of mind when landing to make sure to 'get held hostage' by Roy, and the ginger agent can't help but grin, "Been a while since I held you in..."
"Put your hormones in cold storage, and get us out of here," Belikova retorts, making sure while 'struggling' to place an elbow in Roy's solar plexus.
Grabbing the keys, Roy hurries along with Belikova in tow to the Dodge. Getting the car started, and the doors unlocked, Roy waits for Domino to get into the car and floors it...
The patch-eyed lady isn't far behind, a 9mm back in one hand as she flat-out blitzes it toward the car. "Think I've made some new friends back there!"
If she had a choice the windows would have been left rolled down so she could leap in Dukes style. Due to the important documents in the back seat, she gets to do it the old fashioned way. Hopefully Beli thought ahead to stuff herself in the back, it's only a two-door car.
As they leave patches of rubber in their wake Dom hangs out the window, taking shots to cover their retreat.
I am getting -so- wasted tonight...
Category:Log