Summary:Wade Wilson hires Domino for an extremely questionable job. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Got a job for you. Meet me at Sister Margaret's. <3
The text message is sent to Domino's phone; by request, Wade has asked the bartender to play his favorite Christmas Movie on the underground lair's old boob tube; the original Die Hard movie.
Wade is smoking a cigarette at the bar, a glass of whiskey before him, and is having a conversation with one of the mercenary bar's well known vice dealers. He holds his hands up, indicating some kind of big order, then pats the fellow on the cheek. "Thanks, Vince. I know you'll come through for me."
There aren't many spotted albinos in the world. The one that shows up at the merc bar is mostly what someone like Wade would expect aside from her being dressed like she's preparing to march into an arctic blizzard. Something's different, however. Her face is looking leaner than only a couple of weeks ago. She's also either got some really slick contacts or she had the Riddick eye shine treatment for twenty menthols. When the light hits 'em just right in the shadows she's more solid silver than pale blue.
Underneath the hat the hair's been reduced to stubble along the left side of her head for that punk rocker sort of look. The lopsided grin hasn't changed one bit, however. When she takes a seat beside Wilson there's clear evidence of the familiar pale mercenary left intact.
"We gonna blow up some more shit?" she chimes in by way of greeting.
Significantly less impressive, Wade is in street clothes, his ugly face and disfigured hands open for all to see. He is, however, in possession of a winter coat that clearly was purchased in the women's section; it is bright red, clinched at the waist, and bears white puffy trim. It's draped over his chair.
"Unfortunately, no," he tells her, and ashes the cigarette into a nearby ash tray. Domino receives a critical look; for a moment, he's inspecting her appearance. It's different.
"Kidnapping," he explains, cutting right to the chase. "High profile, mutant telepath, totally loaded, and a hot blonde to boot."
It wouldn't take a genius to know who he's talking about.
"I'm thinking; quick and quiet for this one. Which is totally boring, but it's gonna make for one hell of a Christmas, Dommers."
Something doesn't quite seem right with Wade here, either. Granted Neena hasn't known him all that well but it's rare to see the guy out of his uniform and rarer still to see him so ..solemn? Almost like he's already regretting the job.
"Who spat in your coffee today, Wilson?" she inquires with the grin being replaced with an arched brow.
Kidnapping? That's unusual—did he just say 'high profile mutant telepath?!'
Her focus breaks away from the mouthy merc long enough to call out "Can I get some whiskey over here?"
There -is- someone who perfectly fits such a profile and it has Dom's mind running circles on itself. "Never minding a fat end of year bonus, how..exactly..do we sneak up on a -psychic- long enough to catch her? Won't she see us coming from a mile off? And then what, are we gonna beam her with a two by four and hope she stays out long enough to change hands?"
She isn't saying 'no!'
"The shit-sucker who killed the love of my life," Wade answers Domino, in regards to whomever spat in his coffee. "If you must know."
He knocks back the whiskey and motions for the bartender to refill his as well.
"This is kind of anniversary week, so, forgive me if I'm not my usual self. One of these days I'm gonna find that mother fucker, put a bullet hole in his head and skull-fuck his grey matter." A pause. "Okay, maybe not that last part."
As for the job, to that he grins. "I've got a couple ideas. They're all really stupid. But, the job pays sixty large, and I'm willing to split it right down the middle with you, minus any other hired help we decide we need." He snap-points Domino's way. "That'll get you a hell of a lot of Christmas cocaine."
Aroo? Wade had been in a relationship? Oh, whew, okay. For a while there Domino thought that his sour mood was related to the job. Two separate entities.
"You're not alone, Wade" is all she feels like sharing for the moment.
Sixty for a psychic, huh. She's not about to turn down that kind of coin, certainly not if it's a done deal with a good whack with a loose board. Choosing to ignore the 'Christmas cocaine' remark she folds arms together and peers at the other merc, giving Wade her undivided attention. "Stupid ideas are still ideas. Let's hear whatcha got." Maybe her own budding considerations will agree with something he'll suggest.
While there's no hair on Wade's eyebrow, the bump where it should be lifts up at Domino's empathy. Nothing more needs to be said on that subject.
"Gas her while she's asleep, that's one. Do telepaths like, you know, actively scan for danger, even while they're asleep? That sounds like the twinkiest 'God-Mode' cheat code of all time." He shrugs. "We could bust into her house and raise hell, but that seems stupid and reckless. We could try to nab her at some kind of public function, but I don't want that kind of press. Or…"
A mischievous grin forms on Wade's face. "I raise all kind of hell, and be the distraction while you… you know, do your luck thing. Kick a dumpster and watch what happens."
The subject of lost loves is allowed to fade into the background. Neither of them want to dwell on it, and hey. There's money to be made! Nothing distracts quite like the promise of a stack of greenbacks.
"That would involve breaking into our earnings for the gas then trying to beat whatever security is guarding whichever bedroom she decides to crash in." Not impossible, but..not ideal. "Again..would need to figure out where she's staying first. Definitely high profile." A public function… "-If- we could keep it on the down low I'd have to imagine that a big enough crowd would provide enough ..what the hell do I even call this… 'Psychic interference?' Maybe she won't 'hear' us coming."
Or…
Domino slowly smiles. "Does this mean you're finally coming around to the idea that luck is, in fact, a power? This calls for celebration."
And -there's her whiskey.- Timing win! She holds the shot up with an amused grin then throws it down in one gulp.
"We're still going to need some way to keep her pacified. There's drugs but they're costly and not the easiest to source. Blunt trauma could unintentionally scramble her some and I think if she got a scar from it we'd never live it down. A choke-hold would take too long…"
She pauses, frowns, considers some more. "Jeezus, whatever we do we're gonna have to be real damn quick about it."
"Psychic interference," Wade agrees; doing it in public does not seem ideal, but Domino has keyed in on exactly why he suggested that.
"Don't push that luck," he warns her in good nature, and lifts his shot to take it in tandem.
"I don't mind raiding my personal stash," he notes. "I've got tranq's out the wazoo, with enough horsepower to knock out a fucking elephant. The creeper who hired me would prefer she come intact, so, yeah. I'd rather not scramble her brain.
He considers all of the options at hand. "Fuck." He lights another cigarette, clearly irritated. "Public function, tranq her, and get the hell out of dodge. You're gonna need to cover your face, and I'm gonna need new spandex."
Domino's grinning all the more when Wade tells her not to push her luck. She'll still count this as a victory.
He's also got the darts. Excellent. She still has a few questions on her mind but she's also starting to get some solutions.
When he mentions covering her face Neena offers a rather cryptic smile. "Maybe not all that much…" Psychic interference and public engagement in a super populated city full of weirdos offers some fun leeway. "Know of any good death metal bands?"
Because what better way to make her own mind somewhere a person wouldn't want to tread than by listening to really loud and offensive music? A bit of white foundation to cover up the spot, a bit of shadow for the eyes, and poof. She's a metalhead. She's already got the right hair for it, too.
By comparison that's the easy part. "I can get us some transportation, but… I need you to level with me here, Wade."
An elbow gets propped up on the bar, leaning toward the other merc slightly when she repeats "'Creeper?' This is some majorly high profile stuff we're dipping into, -and- she's a mutant. Are we condemning her to an experimentation hell for sixty kay? I mean, trying to bring -her- in unscathed seems like a flat hundred base to me, but nevermind the sticker value. Do you even know what they want her -for?- Do -I- want to know what they want her for?"
"I can do you one better," Wade smirks. "Dubstep."
Because death metal may be more than tolerable, but dubstep? That's pure hell.
Truth be told, he was really hoping she wouldn't bring that up. "Yeah," he mutters, begrudgingly. "About that." He sighs and reaches up to pinch his nose for a moment. "This guy, he refused to tell me who we're doing this for, or why."
Turning to the bartender, he motions for another pair of refills. Then he looks back to Domino, his expression serious. "I'm picky about my work. I'm about as far from a 'superhero' as they get, but, you know, there are some gigs I just won't do. This… would usually be one of them."
The shots of whiskey arrive; merely having it nearby encourages Wade to drop the real bomb. "I plan to hold her as ransom. Force them to tell me who wants her, what they plan to do with her, and then… I'll decide whether t turn her over, or cut her loose."
"Hey, I'm not trying to scramble my -own- brain here," Domino protests.
Yeah… About that. Normally she doesn't question the motives of jobs too much. That's not part of the arrangement. Either you do the job and you get paid or you don't. Buuut… She's had a feeling in the pit of her stomach with this one. That Wade shares this feeling only makes it more real, and more pressing of a concern.
"I'm with you" she quietly adds when he mentions usually not doing this sort of gig. Kidnapping always was a particularly ugly shade of grey.
There's a silver lining to be had. Wade's given this some thought. Even more shocking, Neena's gently nodding in agreement! Absently the next shot is slid over but left on the bar, gloved fingertips thoughtfully tracing the glass rim.
Neena looks back to Wade. "I'll back that play. I'm not about to sell what's left of my soul for thirty grand. And I'm sure you don't need to know how likely it is that this is going to blow up in our faces and make us a shit ton of new enemies. Just another day in the life," she humorlessly decides while picking up the shot and throwing number two back.
"One elephant dart. One set of untraceable wheels. A public event and a questionable playlist. When do we move?"
Yes, indeed, Wade Wilson can be serious. It's a rare treat; enjoy it while it lasts. "If we have reason to cut her loose," he points out, "then they'll be enemies I'm happy to have. More target practice."
The way he sees it, if they come to the conclusion that Emma Frost should not be turned over, they're probably the type of people Wade would be happy to assassinate.
"They want it done by Christmas," Wade points out. A wicked grin appears on his face. "I say we wait until after New Years." He shrugs. "No one else is crazy enough to take this job. I'd like to make them sweat."
True enough, if the 'buyer' is a big enough piece of garbage then Neena would be happy to keep dropping them until they got the idea. But..what about their target..? Whether they make good on the contract or cut her loose she's still going to hold a mighty powerful grudge, right? Not many people have the forgiveness to say 'well, you didn't go through with it so we're cool.'
Dom's already working out such a contingency plan. If this is a catch and release, turn the psychic's ire on the people who wanted her. At the very least it should buy these two hired guns a chance to run like hell.
"Yeah, come on now. Even mercs get a holiday vacation!" Neena kids. "What are we, savages?" Her expression flatlines as she points at the bartender. "Don't answer that." And don't..stare..at her fangs.
"Actually, hold that thought," she changes her mind while lightly tapping an index finger on the bar. "If we're looking for a public event with a lot of interference then New Year's Eve—damn, no. Place'll be crawling with pork. What else do we have where she'll be guaranteed to make an appearance?"
"That's where social media is a life saver," Wade answers. There's bound to be some big announcement on Twitter, Snapchat, Facebook, Instagram, or whatever else; rich, high profile people like that are always making public appearances. "We'll find something. Hopefully with enough time to do some recon."
Lifting his whiskey, Wade offers Domino a toast. "To insanity, and making new enemies. One way or the other." He takes the glass down with ease, then draws a huge drag from his cigarette.
"So, what's with the fangs, and the contacts?" he asks. "I didn't really peg you as the 'body mod' type. I'd totally get into it, but, I'd just… okay I tried it once and it went sideways in a really bad way. You don't wanna know. Even I won't talk about it."
Neena dips her head to the plan on finding an event to strike at. Her shot is held up in turn, complete with her usual lopsided grin. "Cheers."
…Fuck. Wade noticed. That kind of thing happens when she keeps -grinning like a fiend.- Eyes roll as she pushes her empty glass aside. "Oh my god Wilson," she all but mutters while rubbing at her forehead. How does she even begin to explain this? How does she explain it without giving away too much? Thea didn't seem to have such an aversion to talking about the experience but Dom's always been intensely private.
Maybe Thea has the right idea. A little community wouldn't kill her, would it?
"Place was called Valley Nexus Tech. Headed by some backstabbing motherfucker going by 'Mallovoy.' You remember that milk run I told you about, warming a bench on a truck for an out of state delivery? Guy pulled a fast one on us. Truck was full of electronics and survival gear. Six of us got thrown head-first into some sorta ..rift. Two of us survived long enough to find a way out. Some serious shit went down. Including—" she stops short while motioning toward her face.
"I'm not sure I'd call it an infection but something caught a ride back here with us. So…" She hesitates again, sending the empty shotglass sliding away from her with the sweep of a hand. "Wade. If you see me doing something -super- crazy sketchy, maybe give me an opportunity to calm the fuck down and think about it some."
Surprise, Wade Wilson can actually be a good listener. He grimaces at the name 'Valley Nexus Tech'; an even harder grimace at the name 'Mallavoy'. "Jesus," he interjects. "What is it with these skeezy motherfuckers and their super awful names? Like 'Chalk'. That's what our current employer called himself. You know how hard it was not to make terrible chalk puns?"
He keeps listening, shaking his head at talk of a rift. "If I ever get sucked into an alternate dimension, I hope it's filled with… you know what, never mind. Continue."
That last bit draws a brief flash of concern; Wade is quiet for a moment. She's clearly leaving out some key details, but that's her choice, not his. "Not sure I know what that means, but… you got it." He squints his eyes and adds, "Sorry about the cocaine comment. Y'know, I see someone suddenly looking thinner in the face, and I assume, you know. Relapse." In his defense, it's a fair guess to make. Mercs come in all different shapes and sizes, and some have their fill of vices.
"-Chalk?- I'm not sure if I should be offended or not" Domino dryly jokes. "Hang onto those puns, if he turns out to be a jerk then give 'em both barrels."
The side thought about getting sucked into an alternate dimension has Neena giving Wade an expectant look but it isn't long before she cracks a smirk.
A distracted hand waves off Wade's apology. "It's cool. Think of it as a couple years of hardcore survival training. I couldn't tell you how long we were there but it was a freaking long time. Some days I wake up and can't believe that it's over, others I can't believe it wasn't all a nightmare. Mallo's days are numbered either way. If he's really lucky I'll kill him -before- we flip the switch and kick his ass out to paradise."
Glancing at her watch, Neena looks ready to head on out. Seems she's had enough of a personal connection for one encounter. She'll cover her tab if it hasn't already been taken care of. "I'm gonna start working on my end. You know how to reach me."
"Oh I've got a magazine full of 'em," Wade promises. Really, it's kept him up at night. There may or not be a journal.
"If ya need backup dealing with Lucious Malfoy, I'm game." He then grimaces. "Dammit. I can't make Harry Potter jokes now, or the woke kids will call me out on it. Fuck you, J.K. Rowling."
Wade tips a lazy salute Domino's way. "You got it. See ya in 2020, kiddo. I promise not to make any female Dracula jokes."
There's that glimmer of mirth; one can't keep the ornery bastard bottled up for too long.