16835/So, this Madripoor thing..

So, this Madripoor thing..
Date of Scene:	08 January 2024
Location:	Domino and Cable's Safehouse
Synopsis:	Monet gives Domino a new avenue, a sideroad on the small island of Madripoor.
Cast of Characters:	Neena Thurman, Monet St. Croix

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Neena Thurman has posed:
Months into Madripoor, while Cable's got at least a little progress (perhaps, Dom never seems to be around when it hits the fan, sadly! Merc scheduling conflicts!), one of the pressing reasons the albino mutant came to the island to stay for a fair bit was to help solidify the 'legitimate' government. It's as legit as it gets around these parts, or as far as Domino is concerned anyway.

The whole 'devil you know' thing.

Patience may be a virtue, but it's not something that Domino holds in abundance. Dressed for the warm, tropical clime, black abbreviated shirts and shorts are in stark contrast with pale, white skin. She's a study in black and white; her 'thing' as much as her luck is. Settled backwards in a chair at a small table, Domino is looking at a map of the island, with parts of it broken into sectors. In the bottom corner, its provenance is understated but present; Madripoor Special Police. She's got a copy of their patrol routes, how they break the island up, and what sort of presence is in each on any given shift. That's not to mention their own predictions of gangs, posses and other 'undesirables', all listed from 'worst to best'.

A bottle of cold beer is set on the table, the condensation dripping from it, forming a wet ring when lifted and a swallow taken.

"Okay, I've had about enough." Uh oh.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
The joy of a teleporter is that one can come and go as needed. So Monet's going to check in on how things are going down in Madripoor. As she arrives, she goes to look about, and takes a moment to scan over what she can see of the papers, using her slightly better than average senses. "So lovely, who are we having to break out?" She's just noting the list of 'undesierables' and sorting them into opponents of the current runners of the city, smugglers and pirates that couldn't pay the bribes required to run things, and the run of the mill criminal that's actually horrible enough that the police have picked them up and kept them locked up because even the city only went so far.

"And how goes things down here? Just as miserable as ever? OR have you founda good enough source of pizza and alcohol that you're content for now?"

Neena Thurman has posed:
There is a certain level of envy amongst mutants, whether they admit to it or not. Even when 'resigned', or rather, 'accepting' of their own skills and abilities, there is always that 'I wish I could'.. and for Domino? She knows so many teleporters with different variations on the theme that it is that one enviable power that she sometimes wishes she had. Mind, if she did?

Not a pleasant thought. As it is, the albino merc is formidable.

So, familiarity means that she doesn't startle when Monet shows up, but rather, she gets a bottled hand tipped in her direction upon arrival, and another swallow taken in place of greeting.

"Hey," comes finally. "Beats the hell out of the cold grey." There's a quirk to her black-lipped grin before that last swallow is taken, and the bottle is finally put down for its last time. "Keep telling myself that."

It's the more pressing question, however, regarding the pizza that has her reaching for a pistol and the always close at hand Hoppes. "When you're with a teleporter, no good pizza is out of reach." The grin doesn't fade in the least as she continues, keeping her hands busy now. "One of the many things I like about him." After all, soldiers run on their stomachs, and more than once, it had been declared that pizza is the perfect food.

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would glance over at Domino and go to sit down next to her, "Of course. So what exactly are you researching now to plan? Or are you merely bored and sorting through things to look over later?" She would appreciate very well research and preparation in advance, but her impression had mostly been that Cable planned things, Domino improvised. So what exactly was the woman preparing? It was certianly something new, which at least passively had her interest.

Monet would fold her hands together, not making a go for the pizza. "And how fares the circumstances otherwise in the city? The politics seems in eternal status quo." Well, one corrupt government fell to another corrupt government, one group of pirates took out another group, one group of smugglers setup business elsewhere.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Domino leans back in her chair, crystal blue eyes watching as M sits down beside her. That grin turns sideways a little and gestures towards the map again. "Looking at intel. Might come in handy, might give either one of us an idea, or link a couple of clues together. Never know when you'll find a missing piece." Absolutely Nate is the planner; he's the tactician and Domino is smart enough to follow his lead, though he's smart enough to know that she'll follow a plan only so far because, well, never know when luck has to intercede.

It makes them a formidable team. Add the various expertise of the rest of the team? It's exactly why governments either want to keep them close or TRY to dispatch them, removing them from the playing field.

Heh.. good luck there.

"Yeah. Quiet. Not sure where the money is that is passing hands, so.." Police surveillance it is! "The place is full of 'bad cop, bad cop'."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would lean over, "Well, I'm making presumptions that normally prisoners here that were worth something would be ransomed off to whomever might find a use for them. If they're political prisoners then no one cares about them and they'd just be sold off for indentured servitude." By that she means slave labor. "If they have technical skills then they'd be used to make drugs or be given to some of the businesses that would have use for them." However, still technically skilled people or doctors grabbed off the streets could be tracked by whomever they were sold off to. You could still track money and illicit goods with some effort.

"This place is rather pragmatic. No sense in keeping something for the sake of keeping it. That means you have to feed them and do nothing with them."

Neena Thurman has posed:
Domino nods her head slowly as she listens and considers, finally bringing in, "Problem is, this is a very closed cycle. To do something like that is almost... tribal. Like you'd see in the outback, or 'back in the day'." Unless, of course, "Unless they're smuggling in and out. Which would mean watching the docks. I know bananas aren't the main GDP of the place, but I didn't think it was slaves." Which, to her, translates out to 'mutants'.

The merc sits there quietly, thoughtfully, her gaze still sitting on Monet, but focused into that middle distance. "I need to look into this more."

Under her hands, without even thinking, her pistol has been broken down, cleaned and is being pieced back together in a practiced manner. "Yeah.. I think I do."

Monet St. Croix has posed:
Monet St. Croix would nod, "We're not going to change anything here. We're going to disrupt some small elements of it, but something else will take over in just a short cycle. Nothing short of regime change and outside occupation by sufficient forces that they simply won't be bought out will do anything. And even then, all of the locals would simply relocate somewhere else to do business, and the cycle would merely return a short distance away." CYnical she was. But that was always how things went.

Neena Thurman has posed:
"Which is why we need to be a power behind the throne," Domino brings to the fore. "Which is why we're here. So they're so grateful for our help.." She lets that fall into the air, before she shrugs. "I guess I know too many princes, princesses, and whatever." A girl wants what she wants! And if that is a small island in the Southeast Asian waters? Then so be it.

But slavery, the thought gains a scowl. "Just saving one means we save more than that." She stops futzing with her weapon, and gestures with her hands now, though she has a small wrench in hand. "If we go with your line of thinking, then what's the use? Time's wasted here because it's not worth it. It is." She shakes her head. "There are small African countries that think grinding up albinos and putting them into a drink makes their shamans even more powerful. That, obviously, is near and dear to my heart. I don't care about hearts and minds. I was more than happy to kill them all and leave behind a legacy of 'protected species', mutant or not. I'm not above doing it again here."