Setting Up the Pieces
Roleplaying Log: Setting Up the Pieces
IC Details

Domino tracks the Scorpion to her flophouse in the Narrows in Gotham. The hunt is on.

Other Characters Referenced:
IC Date: May 10, 2019
IC Location: The Narrow, Gotham
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 11 May 2019 03:56
Rating & Warnings: PG13
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits: Trey "the Man" Porter, Various Thugs
Associated Plots

* OOC Time: Fri May 10 12:47:37 2019 *

* * *

When Carmilla had been in New York City less than twenty-four hours earlier it had been sunny and kids were smiling as they played at the beach, dashing through the sand. There's precious little of that life around now, in Gotham. The roiling gray skies overhead are filled to the brim with clouds threatening to deliver a stinging torrent of rainfall at any moment. They've been holding onto that payload for now, as if they were waiting for the right moment to strike. It is under such a sky that Carmilla finds herself now, sprawled in a flat in the worst part of town on a lumpy mattress beside an old TV with almost as many missing pixels than actual picture.

The young woman rolls over in the bed to stare up at the ceiling as the show plays. "God, what did you have for breakfast this morning? Carnation instant bitch?" Canned laughter echoes through the room, distorted by trying to fill the largely empty space, with the odd angles of a kitchen island, coffee table, and the futon Carm currently occupied. The only other noise was the sound of Carmilla's own breathing.

Slowly, the dark-haired woman slips from her bed. Her hair is dyed to its original colour now, a dark brunette that looks far more natural and pairs well with the azure blue of her contact lenses. She's wearing a pair of well-fitting black sweatpants and a blue sports bra, and stands on the threadbare carpet with bare feet. Carmilla takes a slow, deep breath.

"I hope that lead they gave me is worth all of this," the woman grumbles under her breath as she snatches up the coffee cup beside her and takes a sip. "Ugh! Christ." The cold coffee is spat out back into the cup and she tosses it down onto the table. Canned laughter rings out again, as if on cue, and the cup tips over to dribble its contents onto the floor.

"Damn it…" Now Carm is grabbing up an old, worn out t-shirt and jamming it down on the mess, tossing her head to throw her tresses away from her eyes as she drops to a knee.

* * *

Moments like this are one in a million.

Gotham might seem like a strange place to relocate to but for those in the mercenary life it works out fairly well. New York at large has become a no-fly zone thanks to the DPS and Sentinel uprising. Metropolis is too 'clean' for dirty work and is regularly patrolled by some of the biggest named powers in the world. But grungy old Gotham? It just happens to have a particular Bat problem.

Domino is willing to take her chances. Especially when word of a certain target comes down the wire to her end of the line.

'Scorpion' isn't a high level target per se. If there are any hits out on her they aren't ones worth pursuing as far as the albino is concerned. But there are some things in life which are worth pursuing, regardless of potential financial gain.

It's half a city block away from Carmilla's cruddy room. A shadowy ghost hangs upside down from the side of a fire escape with legs woven and locked through the old iron railing. In her hands is an accurized semiautomatic rifle kitted with high tech optics and suppressor. In the magazine, match-grade bullets. Her gear is all dialed in.

And the crosshairs are on the Scorpion.

The spilled coffee puts the target into motion, up away from the futon. A pale fingertip transitions onto the trigger, the safety neatly flicked off with a thumb. The sniper's breathing slows, the steady beat of her heart staging when the shot will be taken. All odds are in her favor.

Then Carmilla tosses her head back.

One of the apartment windows jolts with a *Spak!* that's immediately followed by a curious zipping sound before the crappy old LCD TV is finally put out of its misery. It's a perfect headshot on the lady cheerily talking about the latest in prescription eyedrops.

The missed shot can be accurately summed up in one simple word:


Dom still has the advantage of distance. It's an unarmed target with limited cover. Why abandon the hunt now? She still has nineteen rounds left in the mag. In less than thirty seconds Carmilla's going to need a new place to stay.

* * *

The window explodes into a shower of dingy glass as a single .300 caliber round punches through it, but before it even hits the floor the bullet slams into the television. The figures on the screen lurch, the image confused as to how to respond to the sudden catastrophe. Damaged pixels end up paradoxically the last to die, a shadow of the image burned onto them forever.

Carmilla doesn't waste any time in her response. She dives for the floor as a second shot passes right through where her heart would have been, shattering the coffee table and covering the floor in so much broken silica. She ends up on her hands and knees in the shards, leaving behind crimson smudges as she scrambles forward. She Dives across the table frame, sending the tv bowling over as she tucks into a tumble that leaves two more rounds punching through the walls of her apartment. In some ways, it's an improvement for the decor.

The brunette is fast. Incredibly fast, as it turns out, and while Domino could probably match her up close trying to do so through the magnified movements of a scope is an entirely different task. A cabinet explodes open in a shower of Campbell's chicken noodle soup as another round smashes right through it and leaves the contents bared. Carmilla just manages to hook two fingers into the black boots she kept by the door before she's opening it and taking off into the ruined tenement.

This is not a nice place. The floors are dirty, something she'll need to worry about more when she has time to tend to cuts on the balls of her feet. People are already milling about or hiding in their apartments. Dealers and street thugs live here, and none of them are about to stick their head up when there's a hit going down. Not on the strange girl who just moved in a week ago and visits at all kinds of weird hours.

At least it means she has a straight shot for the stairs. If only there weren't windows looking in on the hallway.

* * *

Point in the Scorpion's favor, she is a -quick- one. Maybe Domino shouldn't have settled for the slower subsonic rounds tonight. They're deathly quiet but it means that she has to try and lead her target even more than usual, proving to be a most difficult task.

(Focus, Thurman!)

Following the fleeting sight of Carmilla through the hall windows will guarantee that any shots taken will always arrive late to the party. The albino tracks the velocity of the other lady and tries to gauge appropriately, leading further and further until the next shot punches through a window an instant -before- Carmilla can be seen through it. The heavier bullet passes right in front of her face, the shattered slivers of glass turning into an airborne hazard.

Just when it looks like she's got the kill shot lined up again, she hesitates. Line of sight is broken long enough to rotate the rifle slightly. Yep. Ran the goddamned mag dry. With a neat flick the empty polymer shell is kicked out to fall several stories to the alley below. Before it strikes concrete she's got another mag in her hand, into the rifle, the next round chambered, and her eye back behind the optics.

And the target has vanished.

"-Fuck!-" she repeats, hissed under a breath.

The rifle is slung across her back then she grabs the railing and unrolls herself, rapidly descending the fire escape in a manner which it had never been designed for.

The Scorpion has gone Rabbit. Dom needs to cut her off at the building's exit. Tonight's sharpshooter exercise has turned into a running and gunning exercise, and up close and personal is exactly where she does NOT want to be with Carmilla Black.

* * *

With a half second to catch her breath Carmilla finds herself with her back against a wall, a meter or two away from where the most recent shot blew out the windows in front of her. The shooting had stopped at twenty. Was that a full magazine? Were they just waiting for Carm to pop her head back up…? Her mind was full of questions, and now that the adrenaline was getting a chance to circulate she was also incredibly sore. She took a quick stock of herself.

The bloody feet had to be dealt with. She didn't have any of her tools, or her gun, or even a shirt to tear the sleeves off of, but leaving a trail behind her wasn't going to help with escaping - even if she ignored the now distant prospect of infection walking across these dingy hallways. She scanned the apartment numbers here on the second floor of the tenement, formulating a plan. First was first. What did she know?

There was only one shooter. There hadn't been any attempt to box her in or coordinated fire. A single operative then, highly trained, with good equipment. But that didn't tell he ranything about who might be in the building. It wasn't a gang hit because it was too precise. And it wasn't a foreign government because there weren't kill teams sweeping every floor of the building.

Mercenaries? A personal grudge? It didn't matter for now. She was unarmed, alone, and had no real intel. They'd be watching the exits. So that left a rather bold decision to make.

Carmilla raps her knuckles on the apartment door next to her. The bracelet on her left arm expands as she does, covering the entire length like a bracer. The sound booms as a result. "Get your ass out here, Trey." The door swung open a moment later to reveal a tall man with stubble on his face in a wife beater and jeans.

"Yo, what the fuck you-"

"This is for that girl you were hitting earlier, dickward." It barely takes a touch. Trey's eyes bulge and then he topples to the ground like a doll with its strings cut as the poison enters his body. She steps over him and into the apartment.

Hopefully, no one would expect her to stay in the building to catch a breather. It might buy a few minutes, at least. After she'd wrapped her feet so she didn't leave a blood trail behind her and maybe found a gun she could go out through the fire escape.

That would give Domino a good three to four minutes to figure out where her quarry had disappeared to while the Scorpion ransacked a two bit Drug Dealer's apartment.

* * *

One of the problems with flying solo is that you have to make every moment count. If you lose it then you may never get another chance. Not only does Carmilla know that someone is now gunning for her but Domino is only one person with an entire building to cover. There are multiple exit points. There's no telling who else might be inside or what kind of gear, if any, they might be sitting on.

This is so much worse than a lost opportunity. She's just given the other team the ball with a home court advantage.

All she can do is approach the situation as if she were the one on the inside, take her best guess, and hope to get lucky. The front door's too obvious. The fire escape seems like a slow route prone to leaving her exposed and making a lot of noise so she rules it out.

In this, fortune favors Carmilla. Dom's lurking closer to the back of the building. It takes a while to realize that her guess had been wrong. Long enough for Carmilla to cover a lot of vertical ground, and quite possibly enough time to counter a retaliation. Outside lurks a white skinned woman on a warpath, the rifle pinned diagonally across her back while a nine millimeter pistol fills each of her hands.

This party is just getting started.

* * *

Carmilla took the fire escape because she was counting on the fact that a single person on foot would have trouble circling the building to reach it when they could go for more likely exits… And because it was a quick way out after spending so long fucking around in Trey's dingy apartment with its 72 inch screen, leather couch, and lack of basic foodstuffs. She kicked over a takeout container with a wrinkled nose as she headed out through the window.

"You should invest in a first aid kit. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Carmilla sighs as she starts climbing down toward the street below, shouldering the beat up bag she'd taken from one of the closets. While inside, Carmilla had had the chance to bind her feet with a clean "2Pac Lives!" t-shirt that she knew to be Trey's favourite, leaving its scraps scattered all over his unconscious body. She'd located a few bandaids but no gauze, no antiseptic whatsoever, a couple lengths of silk rope in a bedroom closet, and some zip ties.

For a gangster Trey was completely unprepared. She didn't find a gun either, just a knife and a small fire extinguisher underneath the kitchen sink. At least she had her boots on, and her hands and feet were bound tightly enough she could think past the stinging pain that came with every beat of her racing heart.

No one in the alley… It lent credence to the idea that her assailant was alone. And armed, where Carmilla might as well have robbed a hardware store. It was this that convinced her to head all the way down to the ground instead of heading for one of the higher floors. She doesn't use the fire escape, instead favouring climbing over the side and hanging down then dropping the last couple meters. *That* causes her to grunt in pain, but she quickly moves past the nearby dumpster to brace herself against a wall.

Blue eyes peer out slowly at the alley that runs behind the building, checking for the person hunting her. Now Carm is holding her breath. Waiting.

* * *

Dropping the last couple of meters may not have been the smartest idea. By the time Carmilla's ducking behind the dumpster another shot snaps out of a suppressed handgun. It's angled at the opposite alley wall though somehow that might have been deliberate; Once it strikes with a spark the deformed slug is sent toward the -other- side of the alley where it zips right past the edge of the dumpsteragain where Carmilla's head had been a moment earlierbefore rebounding a second time and losing its lethal energy.

Then comes the albino.

There's only two ways out of the alley..and she's currently blocking one of them. It's a likely bet that Carmilla doesn't have a gun or she would have returned fire by now. The earlier sense of urgency with this kill has taken a back seat as the ghost of a mercenary instead begins to stalk her opponent as if savoring the hunt. Once again the odds are in her favor. It'll be like shooting Scorpions in a barrel.

She's focused. Focused and angry. There's a strength in silence, she doesn't call out any taunts or threats. Instead it's more like the Terminator coming for Sarah Connor, pistols held downward at her sides as she simply closes the distance and waits to have another target. Thirty three rounds left on tap. She'd be a fool to miss with them all.

* * *

Strict tension now. The interminable procession of successive heartbeats is almost maddening as Carmilla is left with only her pulse and the inexorable approach of footsteps by which to disturb the deep, oppressive silence of the Gotham night. It's dark in the alley, darker than it should be. That only enhances the ethereal quality of the Albino as she stalks the Scorpion across paved ground.

That's when it begins to ran. The sky opens up all at once and looses itself in a sudden, almost spasmodic fury, soaking the alley, Carmilla, and everything in sight. The sudden roar of the falling drops drowns out verything. The heart beats, Domino's footsteps… The counter patter of the Scorpion's movements as she changes her cover from an alley way corner to stand in the brick doorway around a nearby emergency exit. Trust a building where the wiring hasn't been updated since the sixties to somehow be up to date on the fire code. At least it provides some reprieve.

In the darkness, with the rain streaming down and plastering her dark hair to her neck, Carmilla is actually having trouble seeing what is going on. She knows the score, however. Angry gunman, and she's injured, unarmed, more or less trapped. She can't even go for her trump card; she'd have to be right on top of her assailant to poison her with so much rain to clear the air. Running for the far end of the alley would be a good way to get shot in the back. So, for once, Carmilla breaks one of her usual rules in confrontation.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" Carm shouts loudly enough to be heard over the rain. Sure, it gives away her position, but that was already a crapshoot anyway. "You don't have a team, so you're not on a hit squad. You're definitely not a gangster. So why are you _here_?"

Domino will have to round the corner to shoot again. At which time Carm will break cover just long enough to lob a multi pound bright red steel canister full of CO2 directly at Domino's gun hand. She's much strogner than she should be for her size.

And accidentally shooting the container definitely won't have a positive effect on the matter.

* * *

Well. So much for not getting soaked tonight. Almost between footsteps it goes from dry(ish) ground to puddle as the downpour claims the scene. Visibility is going to be a problem. Catching audial clues, as well. This is an evolution which benefits Carmilla more than Domino. Or at least hinders her less than it does the gunner.

She can still hear well enough to catch the 'what the fuck is your problem?!' The only response comes from the immediate placement of two more shots, one smacking against the side of the dumpster with a deep gong-like ringing while the other impacts the aged brickwork directly overhead. They're meant to intimidate more than anything, serving as a reminder to the cornered Scorpion that she only has one way to go and that's out into the open.

'Why are you here?'

The albino stops, stretching her neck from side to side. She's practically right around the corner, nearly on top of her mark, but something holds her back. Just for a moment.

Just long enough for the fire extinguisher to get thrown at her.

For anyone else it might be a bad idea to shoot at such a projectile.

For someone like Neena, it's an opportunity.

One shot neatly clips off the valve right before the full force of the canister strikes her dead center across the chest. She falls onto her ass while the canister turns into a dumbfire rocket in the alley. White smoke and so much yellow-tinged fire suppressant powder shoots out of the back, almost making it look like a bag of flour had exploded behind it.

Then the extinguisher soars upward, bouncing off of some exterior pipelines before colliding with the bottom of a rickety old window air conditioner.

Rickety enough that the impact loosens up the last of its stripped out rusted bolts, causing it to fall.

Straight toward Carmilla's hiding spot.

* * *

When Domino topples backward Carmilla allows herself a brief sigh of relief. She's evaluating the situation at hand, confirming her opponent isn't going to be able to tkae a shot before she makes her move. It all happens in a split second but it feels almost… Leisurely, in comparison of the moment before. This turns out to be a mistake.

Eighty pounds of broken down, poorly maintained air conditioner come crashing down toward the ground with stunning force. Carmilla is hit with a cascade of rust just before the rest of the machine comes crashing down on top of her. She tries to dive out of the way and the appliance turned death trap smashes into her shoulder and sends her sprawling into the alley. It ends up landing across her left ankle with a rather final sounding thump.

Carmilla yanks her foot free with a snarling scream of pain and frustration. The rush of raw adrenaline is enough for her sympathetic nervous system to override the mindnumbing jolt of pain that shoots up her entire leg. She still doesn't manage to stand, instead half-scrambling across the alley way through the cloud of carbon dioxide toward her assailant. Here, Carm does have the advantage. Breathing in a cloud of fire suppresant and smoke is impossible for a normal person. Not so Scorpion. She lunges at Domino with both hands. Anything to keep from getting shot at this point. Pin the hands, hit her with a knee. As long as she acts.

"Why. The fuck. Are you *chasing me*?!"

* * *

The rain helps to clear the smoke out of the air..but not quite enough. The airborne powder burns the eyes and throat, making Domino cough. Finally it might seem that Carmilla has found something to help level the battlefield!

Neena's back to her feet but has to take a moment to find somewhere to go with clearer air, all while hindered in vision and breath. It gives Carmilla time to pull free of the broken machinery and press an advantage which she's never had until now.

The only indication that trouble might be coming is a flash of movement through the rain and the smoke. Another snapshot sends a bullet down toward the ground where it ricochets upward and zips neatly between the Scorpion's legs. The next one would have been a dead shot to her face if not for her grab upon Dom's wrists, kicking the next shot harmlessly out into the alley.

The knee strike earns a growl from the ghost gunner, stumbling her enough that Carmilla can get her back up against the rough textured wall with her arms stuck out to the sides.

Then she'll get a clear look of the woman who wants to put an end to Carm's days. Rain mats down that short crop of pitch black hair, threatening to blend into the round circle completely masking her left eye. Black lips, no apparent missing teeth, blue eyes, and that distinct edge of 'I'm going to rip out your throat' burning within her stare.

"This ain't chasing, princess… This is hunting."

One of her boots strikes out at Carmilla's injured ankle in the same motion which leads into a headbutt, all energy exploding forward in an attempt to break free of the other woman and get away from the wall. Though at this range the suppressors on her sidearms pose a notable problem, she can no longer get up close and personal with guns. So long as Carmilla keeps the skirmish uncomfortably close she can remove one more of the albino's tricks.

There are still knives, though. Carmilla will still have to deal with those. But she can meet force with force when it comes to blades, can't she?

* * *

One thing Domino is going to realize pretty quickly is that Carmilla is trained martial artist. There are advantages for the Albino mercenary here as well, however. Neena has several inches and a number of pounds on the petite girl. Carm is stronger than she should be, but no amount of strength makes it harder to shove her around. The grappling is more even than it should be. And the headbutt…

The rain is washing away the blood. Carm's left arm isn't reacting quite how it should be, and in a tussle like this there's no opportunity to bring her power to bear. Not unless she wants to risk getting stabbed. In that sense, both Domino and Carmilla could use a bit of space. She jerks back to avoid the headbutt and catches it along the side of her head. It sends her reeling, and she ends up retreating enough that Domino is able to create a small amount of space. Enough to get a knife, at least.

"Hunting, then, you crazy bitch. Who hired you? Antonio Romano?" Carm names an AIM scientist she'd tussled with in the past. Someone very famous, for that matter. She was just scrambling to understand- and scrabbling to her knees-, reaching out to lash out at Domino with a series of strikes capped with a brutal, gauntleted left-handed punch intended to try to keep the other mercenary from getting all the way to her feet. Not that this does anything to help deal with the knives.

* * *

If this were an action movie there would be light glinting off the side of the blade in Domino's fist. In reality the blade is coated in matte black, giving the impression of being a shadow which she controls rather than a sharpened weapon.

The dangerous standoff doesn't last for long but it does lead to a name being dropped. 'Romano.' Someone to look into further, perhaps. If she can remember it through her combat-geared mind.

The part which she says is "You think this is crazy? Hell, I'm just gettin' started."

The speed and the rain makes it difficult to grapple Carmilla's left arm. Some of the strikes are dodged. Some are caught with a horrific grinding sound of metal upon metal. One hit lands solidly against the albino's skull, twisting her about upon her heels—

—only to lead into her kicking against the side of the building then reeling back for a return strike of her own.

She's slippery! Moving as if the rules don't apply to her. There's evidence of various fighting styles but she doesn't follow any one discipline. Carmilla may have some higher level tricks at her disposal.

She's also proven that this ghost can, in fact, bleed. Dom's sporting a nice gash across the temple from where the gauntlet had caught her, streaming down the side of her face in vivid pink and crimson hued rivulets.

Whitey remains determined. She goes so far as to take some of those strikes in order to press closer, to try and lock up Carmilla's one arm. To bring the edge of her blade against the younger woman's throat and struggle to sink steel into skin—

—when a shadow is cast across the entire alley. A shadow in the form of bat wings.

Little does she know that it isn't one of the local vigilantes showing up but an -actual bat- that flew past the street light outside of the alley. Yet it serves the purpose of distracting her -just long enough.-

* * *

It is, in fact, a little brown fruit bat. Batman would be motified to have been confused for such a creature. (Batman is, after all, clearly a silver-haired bat.) Carmilla briefly catches sight of the shadow, but she's got more pressing concerns to attend.

The smaller woman is perhaps the more skilled brawler, but she's at quite the deficit thanks to her various injuries. Normally, the parasympathetic nervous system would have put her on her ass by now. As it is, it's become clear Domino will eventually win their fight if it continues. Size matters. And Carm can't even bring her full strength to bear. So the moment she sees an opening Carm takes it. It comes in the form of a matte black coated knife.
Domino stabs at the bleeding, somewhat mangled Scorpion and the girl twists slightly- and takes the blade to the right shoulder. On purpose. As she does she lifts her left hand, concentrating on the opening provided by Domino's distraction and the fact her knife hand is now… Occupied. This time she just reaches out to grab Domino's wrist, and tries to force some of that poison into her.

It's nothing too dangerous. Carm just wants to put the woman on her ass long enough to ask some questions.

* * *

Goddamn bats.

In addendum: Goddamn whatever Carmilla just hit Domino with.

The sting is unexpected and acute enough that Neena yelps out in surprise, like taking a glowing hot needle right into the wrist.

The pain which follows is immediate, and no less intense.

Suddenly her fingers no longer work, locked rigid and open as it falls uselessly away from the blade. Muscles begin to tense and spasm all the way up into her shoulder then begin to spread beyond. She's fortunate enough to still be able to breathe! Continuing to fight is completely out of the question, after mere seconds she's rolling out onto her back and clutching at her stung arm with a pained growl coming out through her teeth.

This could be checkmate for her, if not for one little turn.

Out at the end of an alley an SUV comes sliding to a halt and all four doors open to reveal your garden variety street thugs, complete with cheap, abused and neglected handguns.

The army of Trey has arrived.

"Yo, dat's the bitch right there!"

* * *

* OOC Time: Fri May 10 22:43:02 2019 *

* * *

"Alright. Now you're going to tell me what the fuck you're-" Then there's a SUV rolling up on the alley way, high beams on, thugs springing out through the doors.

"God damn it. It's always something," Carm is half-muttering to herself. She rocks back from Domino, reaching out to scoop up one of the 9mm H&K from the pavement and quickly squeeze off a couple of shots toward the alley. She makes the mistake of using her left hand, with the shoulder that was smashed by the falling air conditioner. The recoil reverbrates through her entire body like an electric shock. Carm nearly drops the gun and quickly convinces her /not/ to try that again.

"Shit, she's armed!"

"Get that stupid bitch!"

The men are smart enough to scramble in all directions, shouting over the roar of rain against the fiberglass body of their vehicle and going for cover behind door frames and other things that won't actually stop a bullet. One is smart enough to use a wheel well. He's the genius of the crew.

Carm quickly begins to half-crawl her way toward the nearby dumpster. One of them fires off a shot that ricochets off the cement near Domino. Carm looks over at the guy in question, then to her fallen Albino foe - and quickly stars back over to Neena. "You're going to make me regret this later, aren't you?"

Swapping the gun to her right hand and firing another wild shot or two from her place more or less sprawled on the ground. Then comes the mad dash on her hands and knees back to her assailant… So that she can drag the other woman to safely.

For some reason, Dom's weight isn't nearly as much of an issue as Carm's own injuries. The thugs aren't interested in catching a bullet, so for the most part they keep their heads down other than the occasional stray shot.

* * *

This should be working to Domino's advantage. These thugs? They aren't here for HER… They're here for the person she wants to kill! So while in -theory- they won't be coming for the albino..that they happen to be trying to steal HER KILL means that they've now become the newest entry onto this evening's menu.

She's not going to lose her shot because of a couple of wannabe gangster fucks. In NO reality does she lose her mark to these screwballs.

Then Carmilla takes one of her fallen pistols. There's not a single damned thing Dom can do about it. Not right away. Whatever chemical cocktail had been introduced to her system is friggin' -killer.-

Is she going to make Scorpion regret this later? "You bet your ass" is her honest growled answer. Though regret what, exactly..?

The answer comes soon. Carmilla's busy fighting for her life yet AGAIN this evening..and then she's running out into the line of fire to reach for the drag handle on the back of Dom's tactical harness, boldly sliding her out of the line of fire.

Neena's surprise cannot be fully contained before it erupts in a "The fuck?!" Carmilla just got her would-be assassin to safety! There may yet be a chance to process this turn of events later. For now she uses this newfound piece of cover to roll around and twist free of the carbine still hooked across her back.

Then she goes all badass and fires the stubby suppressed .300 with just her left hand on full auto, not even bothering with the sights. The report of all twenty rounds smacking and thudding into various parts of the truck sounds louder than the shots, themselves. It's an almost rhythmic *thunk-thunk-thunk* into the body panels followed by the sharp crack of shattering glass and a shrill squeal as someone gets pelted from behind cover.

In the world of petty street crime, bringing a modern assault rifle equipped with a giggle switch is something of a game changer.

"Holy sheeeeeit, dat bitch be packin' HEAT! Git outta here!"

* * *

Given how bad their aim is the thugs stood a good chance of hitting Domino by accident. Good enough, at least. Right now, both Domino and her mark are in cover behind the heavy dumpster. Carmilla still has a hand on Domino's tactical harness. By all rights, she could probably hit the other woman with another dose of that chemical cocktail if she really had to, but instead she's taking a breather as the rain continues to wash over her. She can't get more soaked, but the sting of droplets against open wounds and sore skin isn't helping.

Then Domino surprises everyone by retrieving her carbine. Carm doesn't stop her either. She takes a second and braces against their newfound cover, a knee bent and near her chest. Her colour isn't good. The blood on her shoulder, and soaking the cloth around her hands, can't be a good sign either. She probably needs to splint that ankle too. Normally, Domino could probably just push her over and end it. This one… Is probably going to fight.

Rather than do anything, howver, Carm takes the calculated risk of leaning out enough to stare at the SUV as the thugs load up into it and take off, tires squealing on slick pavement. One of them actually falls out of the vehicle as it pulls away, having not quite climbed inside.

"HEY!" The man is waving his arms as it rolls off on him, then sprinting after his "friends" through the rain. THis leaves Carm to confront Neena.

The Scorpion glances over at Domino and closes one eye, shaking her head. "You're dry again," she notes briefly. "Going to… Tell me why you're trying to kill me yet?" She doesn't move her hand. Time will tell if that's enough.

* * *

It seems like such a funny thing to say. 'You're dry again.' With the two ladies sitting there -completely drenched in blood and rain.- If Domino wasn't so ticked off she might have rolled onto her back again and started cackling like a damn -fiend.-

Instead there's an amused snort as the steaming carbine drops heavily across her stomach. Then her head rests in a steadily growing puddle on the soaked pavement of the alley with a pained groan.

"You really don't have a clue, do you…"

Eyes the color of ice slit open against the rain and look back to Carmilla with the question being asked, trying to gauge her reaction to the statement. Dom's always been one to play everything so -very- close to the chest but even she has to admit defeat sometimes. Carmilla may be injured but she's still mobile. And she still has bullets in the mag.

It takes some effort but in using the empty carbine as a crutch the albino pries herself up off of the ground and rolls back onto her feet, the one arm still held at a stiff and awkward angle. "Tell you what..I'm gonna get out of here. I'm gonna try and fix whatever the fuck you did to me. Then I'm gonna drink myself into a stupor."

She's already starting to walk away when she says "And the next time I find you…" The pause follows her twisting about on a heel, the empty carbine held out at arm's length in a sort of 'come at me' pose, "I'm gonna take my damn gun back."

She's taking her chances that Carmilla isn't going to shoot her in the back. As much as she hates to leave the opposition with her personal weaponry, she doesn't have it in her to take it back by force.

Not tonight, anyway.

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