A Self-Resolving Gig
Roleplaying Log: A Self-Resolving Gig
IC Details

Rocket gets in touch with Domino about the underground fight scene.

Other Characters Referenced: Frenzy, The Joker, 'Lena' Harley Quinn
IC Date: July 16, 2019
IC Location: The Ritzy side of Gotham
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 17 Jul 2019 02:23
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 (only one f-bomb tonight, woo!)
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

"Don't be afraid to give me a ring if you hear of anything interesting going down, either. I'm never afraid to get my hands dirty."

Those had been Domino's parting words the night Rocket had decided to steal her stolen car, and although it's been over a month since then, he'd never once not thought to make good on that gesture.

Because things have been going down, and while at first the Guardian wouldn't have thought it worthy of being that interesting, he does take things rather personally when it blows up in ways that don't involve him using explosives on someone/thing else. And being stuck in a fight ring like some kinda freak sideshow? He takes that very personally.

The place in question that Rocket asks Domino to meet him at might be pretty unusual for the fact that it's not in any rundown area of Gotham, no seedy alleyway or dingy backstreets, no questionable bars. It's actually on the ritzy part of town, the area where names of renown like Wayne and Zatara have their ancient something-year-old estates that have been in the family for something-something generations.

And it's down one of the lanes not far from the Zatara residence that a familiar Lancer is parked, the bushy ringed tail of its newest owner counterbalancing the rest of him as he perches from the passenger window, reaching over to polish the silvery top.


It's a curious message, to be certain. Sent by a curious creature directing her to a curious part of town. Fortunately the message hits during a slow period when Domino's already on the move in the area, it's a trivial matter to change direction and swing on by where so much of Gotham's old money still resides.

Finding the critter in question is easy, just look for the car. She kinda misses that Lancer, had some proper city-traversing zip to it. Tonight it's been replaced by a black on black on dark grey sport bike which has -way- more zip without all of the fun storage nooks for heavier ordnance.

The bike rolls up alongside the twice stolen car and goes silent, its lone leathered occupant shedding a black helmet and hooking it onto the handlebars. The familiar ghost of a woman leans forward with forearms lazily draping over the machine as she regards the weapons-loving Not-A-Racoon from another planet, or whatever the hell.

"This is unexpected on a number of levels. What's on your wicked little mind, Rocket?" A sidelong glance toward one of the mansions leaves her asking "Are we hitting up one of these joints?" with an inquiringly hooked brow.


Ears perk at the sound of someone's approach, and Rocket spares only a glance before going back to his work, at least until the bike pulls up alongside his car. He smirks a little at the things said by way of greeting, shrugging as he finishes buffing one last spot.

"Well, we could but if we do I suggest the Wayne place. Zee's will just get you turned into a clam before you even get to the house," he says as he jerks a thumb in said direction.

Hopping down from the window, he tosses the rag into a bucket on the sidewalk before stepping around the Lancer to where Domino and her ride are. "Anyway. I was wonderin' if you heard anything about this weird fight club thing. Emphasis on the 'weird' part."


"I see you're taking good care of someone else's ride," Neena teases. Honestly she figured that someone like Rocket would have -completely trashed- any vehicle which he laid hands (paws?) onto. It's interesting, and nice to see, that she had assumed incorrectly.

When 'Zee's' place is pointed out she has to take another look, particularly after the whole 'being turned into a clam' comment. There's a softly voiced "Huh" at the thought before her attention wanders to the other building. The Wayne place. Some detail of this exchange gets filed away in the back of her mind for later. One never knows when a piece of information might come into use.

When the fight club is mentioned there's a momentary tell which crosses her sharply contrasted expression. As if realizing this her attention wanders off toward the nearest of the two mansions again. If there had been -any- lingering doubt as to whether Rocket was in The Punchline's last lineup the thought is well and truly gone now!

"There was an underground metahuman fight club that involved pitting unwilling kids against each other," she deflects without having to make up such a story. "That operation got pretty well leveled."

She's totally holding back. Something's got the albino unwilling to confirm what Rocket is looking for on her own.


It's all Rocket volunteers in regards to the more reputable manors. He leans against the car, arms folded, and would probably be offended if he knew what Domino's expectations had been of him in regards to vehicle care.

The flicker of…something doesn't go unnoticed as he watches the pale-skinned woman. He taps his clawed fingers over his arm idly, waiting.

"Yeah. It was some messed up deal. I thought I signed on for a good ol' fashioned pit fight and then that happens." Dom may be holding back, but Rocket's got no reason to. He tends to be very up front about such matters. A faint sneer crosses his face. "Not as leveled as I'd like. If I had even one of my grenades…" Or if he hadn't gotten knocked silly while he was trying to work out how to overload the power…


When Domino looks back to Rocket it's with another one of those more curious expressions. "We're talking about two different fights. No, I would have known if you were involved with this one. The people who were running it probably would have crapped themselves before they managed to back you into a corner. All they could do was prey on the weak and inexperienced. Someone else asked for some help in getting their kid out of that mess and I ended up with a little fire support from a bigger meaner mutant and a couple of her friends. Good times."

Suddenly she's feeling chatty. It's because she can't play the surprised 'you were in a cage fight?' act because she was -there- and saw more than enough of the action.

"So. What happened with you. You're pretty unhappy about the arrangement. Thinking about doing something about it?"

It can't hurt to gather some more intel, right? Well, it -probably- won't hurt. She's still getting a feel for Rocket, here.


"We are? Huh. Where was the one you were talkin' about?" he asks, stroking his chin. He couldn't say for sure that there hadn't been any metahumans involved in the fight he'd been thrown in, although the chick he was pit against was pretty tough, and then there was that humungous guy with the snowglobe brain. And really, what does entail a metahuman anyway?

"This one was a total sideshow. There was this big two-level merry-go-round laced with cables and too much electricity. And the people they grabbed for opening matches were stuffed in stupid costumes, and so far as I know, no one really meant to be there."

Rocket scowls. "So some nutjob's nabbin' fighters off the street to throw into this 'fight club' a'their's. People that show up to spectate ain't exactly safe either- by the end of the thing they were bein' launched into the ring like nobody's business. Now I like a good fight as much as the next person but nothin' like this." There wasn't even any prize money so far as he knew!!


Well. This is turning into a predicament. Neena does not..like..predicaments. On one side there's Rocket, seemingly a straight-shooter with a lot of interesting and technologically advanced connections, similar skill sets, and with only an occasional risk of him stealing something important. On the other side there's a job opportunity with an open contract. One with Domino's name on it. These two pieces -do not- fit together. Taking one side means betraying the other.

Couldn't she just keep playing ignorance and let the situation resolve itself? Like..-without- her?

Then what happens if word gets out that she -had- been involved?

The albino's head dips forward long enough for half-gloved fingers to run through the messy black nest. Even she has her limits. While the idea of 'selecting' new fighters could work around her twisted morals that line of reasoning quickly derails when metahumans are brought into the equation. That part of the deal did not sit well with her.

At all.

"I miiight know a little something about that sideshow…" she quietly admits.


Rocket's ears perk up, as does his head when Domino speaks again. He doesn't know her well, so he really wasn't sure if underground fight scenes were her thing. Black market dealings ran wide circles in this city that a lot of underground anything was bound to overlap, so he figured it couldn't hurt to ask her. And yet he doesn't feel all too surprised with her admission.

"Is that a 'miiight' as in 'I need some encouragement to remember' or..?" he asks, tilting his head as he eyes her. "Because if you know who's running the thing, I would very much like to shoot them."


Neena had seen enough of that last fight to know the score. Those people involved -didn't- know how they had gotten there, or what they were being thrown into. It also doesn't help that two of the four fighters happened to be people she knows.

"That about sums it up," is confirmed with needing 'encouragement' while slowly climbing off of the motorcycle. Then she starts walking around the Lancer, planning on taking a seat in the passenger side. A car would offer more security when it comes to an info exchange.

When the door closes she admits "This is the sort of info I usually only tell at gunpoint. Or worse. But I know where it went down. I was in the audience. And I have good reason to suspect that going after them would be a very risky move."


Girl after his own heart. Rocket smiles crookedly, if only briefly with that confirmation, at least signaling that he doesn't begrudge her for having a price for intel.

When Domino goes around to sit in the car, he turns and follows suite, swinging open the driver's side to clamber in. Since his 'acquiring' of said vehicle he's replaced the seat booster/pedal extension with something more customized. It definitely looks more permanent than the portable rig.

"I got a gun if it'll make you feel better," he offers, mostly joking. Folding his arms, he waits to hear what she has to say about the matter, his frown returning.

"Location info would be nice. I dunno how I got there, and one of the other fighters helped me get out since I was in an' out of consciousness by the end of it." He looks at her, brow raising. "Not like I expect it to be easy. I figure they're good, whoever they are. A setup like that, the people they pulled in."


At the offer to actually -get a gun- Domino hesitates, opens her mouth, then quickly closes it again. "It doesn't work so well after I suggested it." Because if the information is coerced out of her then she's not deliberately stabbing anyone in the back! Or that's how she happens to see it.

In short order the pale woman is hunkering low into the seat with fingertips of one hand resting against her temple as if trying to shield the one side of her face. It's less born out of paranoia and more about dealing with a growing knot in the pit of her stomach that all of this is going to catch up to her regardless of what direction she wanders in. If that moment ever finds her it's sooo not gonna be fun.

"The match took place in a sub-basement at a joint called The Punchline here in Gotham. That big scary lady you were put up against..she's a friend of mine. She didn't look too happy to have been roped into that mess, either. I'm not sure what's got them going so over the top with their operation. I had willingly signed up for the first one of their fights and the worst offender was the persona of my overly enthusiastic opponent. At that point the only wildcard was a bag full of ball bearings -and- I got paid for the win. But this…"

Dom is left shaking her head. "It's getting out of hand. Fast. In a real big way. If the name 'Joker' doesn't mean anything to you right now it's damn well going to before you're done. The 'Clown Prince of Gotham.' Only someone that demented could have come up with that bonkers carousel."


"Just sayin'." Rocket shrugs but he lets her continue. His nose wrinkles as Domino mentions that she'd also known the woman who had smashed the clown car to smithereens. "I'm sure we would've done some great damage together if she hadn't gone flying into the fry-zone. Hopefully she's okay, but she seemed like a tough one."

He takes mental note of the place though, once again stroking his chin in thought. "The new place, right? Punchline. Hah." The expression he wears definitely isn't amused. He nods. "Sounds like it went downhill and straight off a cliff."

The name Domino drops then as the mastermind of it all gets a dark look from the raccoonoid. You don't hang out in Gotham's underworld and not hear about the Joker. "Oh, well that figures!" Because now the clown theme and the circus spectacle make complete sense in that light. It doesn't make him any happier.


A nod is quick to follow when Domino confirms "She'll be fine." Though it was interesting to see that electricity still poses a threat to the likes of Frenzy… One of those rare instances where the taser is more dangerous than the bullet.

"Yeah, the new place. It was shaping up to be a pretty classy set at first." The part about it falling straight off of a cliff brings a grin to blacked out lips. "And still falling straight to Hell."

Then Dom's nodding again with a "Right?" Of COURSE the Joker would be behind a circus-themed disaster! Plus he serves as a proper (and deserving!) scapegoat so that Neena doesn't have to mention 'Lena's' involvement.

Here the albino's eyes flick sideways at the smaller gun nut, briefly taking a detour to the more permanent pedal extensions Rocket's managed to rig into the car. It's kind of crazy how that setup all works out, the guy's adapted quite well to living in a predominantly taller world.


"Now. I'm gonna cut you some slack on the data dump because it's you." And because she gets how important it is for this operation to be shut down, sooner rather than later. "The only price I'm putting on this package deal is the understanding that you didn't get any of it from me. But if you're going to go through with putting a bullet or twelve into the guy that thought the idea was cute..I might be able to get you in touch with Lady Muscle. I'm sure she'd like to have a few words with management over there, too."


"D'aw, I didn't know you cared." How does Domino feel about getting winked at by a raccoon? He's getting better at it! …that alone might be unsettling.

"I gotcha. Don't worry, so far as things go, this meeting never happened. Lady Muscle might have'ta get in line, but the invitation's open if she wants in." Rocket taps his chin. "The 'Showman' upset a lotta wrong people that last fight, so I'm sure this is gonna get pretty ugly once things go down."


That..is kinda sorta unsettling, yes… It's also fucking -adorable- if Neena chooses not to read too far into the expression, which for the sake of her sanity is the route she's currently taking without a second thought.

"Let's just say I know a winning hand when I see one," she suggests with a sly little smirk.

Regarding matters getting pretty ugly she once again nods, both to this idea and to Rocket's promise that this meeting never happened. This also brings the one hand falling away from her forehead.

"Incredibly ugly. Potentially 'turn Gotham inside out' ugly. Which is why I'm thinking you might benefit from having another enemy of your enemy on hand."

Particularly one who seems almost invincible.

Though for now she's thinking it's a good time to quit while she's potentially ahead. A quick flick of the head sends the chunky black blades of hair fleeing away from the patch upon her face before Neena inquires "Does that cover what you needed?"


That remark does get a grin back. If that doesn't stoke his ego, who knows what will?

"Oh, I ain't the only one workin' on this, that's for sure. But then, all things considered, this whole thing's a game in itself if you figure the guy's well aware of who all he invited to play that night." Especially when you get the local Bats involved.

Rocket keeps any more details on that end to himself, figuring it would be better for both of them that way. At her question he nods, grinning again. "Oh yeah. More than I expected, but who's complainin'? That said, I guess the information itself is the easy part." Well, at least now they didn't have to waste their time tailing small fry.


More info than Rocket was expecting? "What can I say? This was your lucky night," Domino offers with another dark smile.

And..quite possibly..hers as well. If other people are already working on this problem then she may have just accelerated the whole process. The sooner their operation gets shut down at the Punchline the sooner she can breathe easy and not have to worry about this coming back to haunt her, all while she can avoid getting directly involved. It's like a self-paying, self-resolving gig. One that she may well be lucky enough to survive without any scars.

All that's left for her to offer is "Good hunting, Rocket" with a palm thumping twice on the dashboard.

Metropolis is supposed to be lovely this time of year, isn't it?


Well if luck be a lady…

Rocket nods at her, offering a slightly feral grin right back. "Thanks, Dom. I owe ya." That's not a statement to be taken lightly, either. She hadn't asked for compensation on the intel, but it was always good to make good with these kinds of relationships, especially with kindred spirits who fell in those gray areas that liked to dance at the edge of the dark side.

He feels that words of parting that sounded like advice would be hypocritical, especially when they lived such lives as they did, and if he wasn't inclined to be careful or stay out of trouble, then why tell anyone else such things? So he settles for something simpler, but no less sincere.

"See you around."

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