Off the Board
Cutscene: Off the Board
Author
IC Details
Synopsis:

Making enough bad decisions may actually result in making a better one.

IC Date: October 25, 2019
IC Location: Gotham safe house
OOC Notes & Details
Posted: 25 Oct 2019 18:20
Rating & Warnings: PG
Associated Plots

It's time.

Neena looks down to the phone in her hand, reading the single message which had been sent a few days ago. As usual it's short and sweet. It always is from the source. 'Call me.'

In goes the earbud. Out goes the call. Without thinking about it a hand reaches across the table and picks up one of the various sidearms laid out like on a showroom display.

"Dee, been wonderin' if you were still alive!"

"Hey Mo," she replies with a humorless smirk. "Still smokin' that garbage?"

The gruff voice replies with a snort, "I told ya to get off my back about that."

"Not a chance in hell. What's the word?"

"Been earmarkin' a couple of keepers, thought you might like first dibs. Good runs with better pay. Got yer name written all over 'em."

A pause settles into the conversation, a loaded pistol mag idly rolling around in the albino's fingers.

"What, you hit the booze too hard last night? Wake up, girl."

"I'm gonna pass."

"Dee, these are one time offers. Aren't ya even gonna look at 'em?"

"Listen, Morse. I'm gonna pull my name off the board."

"Should I be organizin' a fuggin' retirement party or something?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm just a little ..preoccupied."

"You ain't goin' legit on me, are ya? You KNOW what happens when—"

"Yeah, I know," Domino interrupts with a sigh. "Not going legit."

Mostly not.

Not really.

..Maybe just a little.

"Been runnin' security for another crew."

"And ya didn't go through your ol' pal Morse? I'm offended."

"It kinda fell into my lap, okay?"

"Ya. Sure," Morse snorts in a tone which is used to dealing with a whole lot of BS. "Just you remember that flip-flopping ain't kosher in this gig. People need reliability."

"Oh stuff the sales pitch, Mo. I'm not -that- green," Neena counters. "Call it a vacation if it'll help you sleep tonight. I'm taking some time away from the game."

A deep sigh comes through the earbud. "Whatever. You know I've got clients who ask for you by name, right? You just keep that in mind while you're busy runnin' 'private security.' And don't wait too long or your reputation's gonna nosedive."

"Rep can be rebuilt," Dom argues while letting the weight of the mag thump down onto the table. "We do what we gotta do, remember?"

She has to do this.

Good people have already died. All differences aside those two WERE good people. Better than her, no doubt. There's no more room for her to be playing fast and loose with the rest of the team.

She should have made this call a long time ago but giving up old tricks is never easy. Especially when there's only so many to fall back to.

"It's your career on the line. All I'm sayin.'"

"Noted. Give Xander a crack and some of those gigs, he could use something real to smack that cocky sneer off of his face."

Another snort sounds, this time with amusement. "That'll be a laugh. Have fun doin' whatever the hell it is that you're doin,' Dee."

-Fun.- Right.

"Oh, and Mo?"

"What."

"Stop smoking that sh—"

The line goes dead but Neena's already smirking. She knew it was coming. This small amount of amusement from the parting rib quickly vanishes as she looks back to the devices of war laid out across the table.

The one which she winds up grabbing next is the counterfeit ICER.

"You're a merc, or you're an X-er. There isn't room for both."

Not anymore.

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