17725/Lock, Stock and two smoking perils.

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Lock, Stock and two smoking perils.
Date of Scene: 21 April 2024
Location: Elsewhere ambush ReaverTown
Synopsis: Spiral finds herself in a pretty bad situation and tries to magic her way out. Nefarious plots prevent an easy exit, and instead of a way out, she abducts someone in with her. Luckily for her, it's Domino. And even more lucky is the near-death domino effect of squeaky fortune that topples one threat after another in seemingly impossible and inconceivable ways. And when the chips are down, Domino and Spiral manage to escape an ambush and cause immense damage to the perpetrators. Who was behind it should now be keeping both eyes open as some scores need to be settled. Spiral's tab gets bigger and she intends to pay Domino back and then some.
Cast of Characters: Spiral, Neena Thurman




Spiral has posed:
No one was forecasting portals today. Sure, maybe a bit of precipitation, partially cloudy, with a bit of wind that's bad for sailing but great for teasing skirts and coat tails.

Things go awry with little warning, and the world is suddenly inflicted with the reality of another trying to reach out and boop it. A wrestling match where gravity is suplexed, temperature is airplane-spun between extremes of desert and tundra, and ambient sounds of gunfire and echoing shouts flash past like some beefcake streaking off ropes in a ring.

Zzzzsnap-Crack-subsonic hum and a Warner Bros hole edged in purple fire drops down over Domino like someone dropping a cartoon mallet. But the head and haft is hollow and crazy-slides the Lady of Luck into a conduit of arcane transportation. Others feed into this arteries into a main vein, and the pressure isn't all that out of place for a circulatory system neither.

Pulse-pulse-pulse.

There's no light at the end of the tunnel, but there is a growing orifice where a similar ring of magical fire is keeping the portal from snapping circular-saw-shut.

It's only a 20 foot drop down there, as details resolve with greater sophistication. It's not where Domino started off, and it's got two heavily armed chads behind a makeshift barricade of bricks, unloading some serious firepower at a half-destroyed building across the street. They scream obscenities as they poor rounds into it, the din of gunfire masking Domino's imminent arrival. "Die bitch! Die!" "Level the whole damn place! No witnesses, no worry! Yeeeeeeeah!"

Neena Thurman has posed:
One inherent dilemma with always sticking one's nose into trouble is that when trouble finds its way /back/ to you it can be a real challenge figuring out what specific event it might be related to. If any at all! Domino's out doing her usual thing, starting to consider looking around for a new untried pizza joint or whatever, then reality vanishes and she gets wormhole-swallowed with no lack of alarmed yelling and cussing. And flailing. Because that's what the uninitiated do when being yanked through random portals. Lots and lots of flailing.

At the other end the twenty-odd foot freefall is just enough time for a "Shit Shit SHIT--!" before ground is reintroduced and the albino /somehow/ manages to make her landing look somewhat intentional, like a cat recovering from being flung over a fence.

Moving past the great many things which make zero sense at all to the one thing which will always make sense to her: People are shooting. At what and to what end is a problem for future Dom, her first order of business is COVER. There'll be time to establish sides and return fire once she has some idea of what the score is, up first is self preservation!

There may be some truth to that whole 'be careful what you wish for' thing. She wanted excitement. She's getting excitement!

Spiral has posed:
The two mercenaries have expressions that are yin and yang from each other. One of drooling glee and the other having an aneurysm of hate. But both are directing their attacks at the standing structure that's being chipped away across the potholed street. High grade but badly maintained combat armor is worn by both, though the arms are protected. But with augmented cybernetics like they've got, padding would probably be redundant. They look like they could give Cable a challenge at an arm-wrasslin contest. Urban camo makes portions of their chest and thighs like avant-garde art, what with the spatters of hydralic fluid and blood.

That just might be a .50 Cal held one-handed by the black-haired Merc, the other hand helping the belt of ammo feed with less chance of jamming up his biz as it feed from his backpack. His budy, is absolutely covered in guns and accessories, and on-the-fly, the dude literally starts doing augments on his energy rifle. He looks like Lenny from Motorhead, but a lot taller, stronger, but voice is like gravel in a salad spinner. And it's him that yells to his partner, "When we got a confirmed KIA, if there's pieces left, you remember the deal right?"
"Yeah yeah!" BuddaBuddabudda. "You're sick man! Only trophy I need is the story. And the pay from Mister S. Fuckin Marauders are back baby! Hey let's move in and get our fun before the squad triangulates!"
"All muties must die!" shouts Lenny and his alterations scream to life as the barrel of his energy rifle fires a stream of plasma pearls into the building.

The buildings these two upstanding gentlemen are hosing, it has since lost all its windows, but a shape coalesces briefly, the silhouette of a multi-armed woman with glowing eyes. It's there for only a second and receives hellish attention from the two Merc immediately. Spiral's shrill voice issues from the building in frustration. More of her portals form above, but none so close as she'd like, and the last one didn't bring down a miniature black hole like she'd hoped. Magic isn't welcome in this place, doing all sorts of things unexpected. A great place to hunt those that rely upon hocus pocus and mystic malarky.

Neena Thurman has posed:
First impressions aren't great from where the albino is lurking. Powerful gear, cybernetics, a guy who's built like a forklift the way he's one arm rocking a belt fed machine gun (and a BIG one.) She can only assume they're jacked up on combat stims, thinking from less than desirable personal experience. Plus there's that whole 'Marauders' thing. Marauders... Hmm, not ringing any bells.

Ah, but then Lenny Bro has to go and do something which immediately sets the last piece onto the proverbial board: They be hatin' on mutants. See, NOW she knows what the score is. And these two Warhammer 40K wannabes? They apparently haven't noticed the /other mutant/ who happened to pop in off to one side. The way they're ripping and tearing with that fifty she could be playing an instrument and they'd never hear her coming. Or...well, anyone not packed full of cyber tech wouldn't.

Domino can see part of their target as well but with all of the bullet impacts punching into the building there's no such thing as a clear sight. But: Mutant(s). There's only the two aggressors, as well. How fortunate she would happen to have a gun for each of them.

As they're continuing to hammer away action movie-style she makes her move. Head down, sprint around to their flank, draw out a matched pair of nine's, and if all goes well a single shot to the backs of their heads to end their industrial cacophony. It all seems too simple, like someone is just handing her this win. But, the only way she'll know if it's a set-up is to make the first move and see what happens next.

Besiiides, she's got luck on her side! Sometimes it really is this easy.

Spiral has posed:
It's a good plan and a good execution. Those two Marauders are spraying into that building with the focus equivalent of cats and laser pointers. That building across the way is going to be a real reality tv fixer-upper if it doesn't get rendered down to its foundations. And the destruction inflicted upon the dwelling is substantial. While it doesn't go up like a Michael Bay gasoline-brick-filled 'splosion, it is having a storm of alloy and energized particles delete it.

The silhouette and the window is wiped out of existence like someone gave it the old CTRL-Z. The woman with the eyes and too many arms, frame and floor gone without a cry or scream. This doesn't please the two mercs, but they're being awfully overkill.

Perfect time for a couple of Nine's and lucky aims to crack the back of those skulls. The impacts are great, but they fail to go through those domes. It rocks their world and sends them staggering with shock and glitching optics. Their tree-truck thighs making them crouch-stomp forwards and backwards as they're made to look like Toddlers taking their first steps. The one with the .50 actually stumbles forward so badly he has to use the barrel and tripod himself from going ass over tea kettle. Lenny, whips around and starts blasting. Pretty good reaction time for that dude, which lends evidence to the assumption these two are jacked on juice. There's a whine as his eyes, targeting reticles behind his shades, expose themselves like an angry Cyclops, and try to reacquire on Domino. But there's this thing about being hyped up on stims, that the trigger finger is unwilling to stop the discharge dubstep, and keeps firing his energy weapon. He obliterates his buddy from the waist down in a flash of light. With a howl, the severely injured Merc falls to the street, swinging his weapon around, coughing up black fluid and trying to sight on Domino as well.

"Ha ha, eat shit Toasters!" This coming from Spiral as she exits the building's barely remaining upper floor and commits to a hasty roll to bleed off the worst of the impact. Her arms help pinwheel her along like a freaky tumbleweed, and she tries to send off another magical attack, which results in a painful migraine at the back of her skull. "Fuckers!" She resorts to diving for cover behind a wheeless burnt-out car.

"You shot me! My legs! My new legs! Scalp, you asshoooooooole!"

Scalphunter, the energy-weapon wielding Lenny, doesn't spare his comrade a single thought or wisp of compassion, stomping around to try and get a proper bead on Domino. "Messed with the hardware, babe. Now I'm gonna take a trophy off of you too."

Neena Thurman has posed:
The double-tap of hollow point slugs slapping into the backsides of reinforced craniums is all but completely lost by their own fire which blessedly stops for a brief but wonderful window. Domino has these fools dead to rights. Always check your six!

And possibly your selected ammo type. There's a shift of expression within the lone gothy albino as she realizes that armor-piercing munitions would have been the correct choice against these goons. What should have been a double K.O. turned out to be the equivalent of a double-tapped Gibbs Smack.

Admittedly the results are kind of hilarious at first but it's easy to enjoy the moment and not do something practical like adding more bullets or running for the hills while those two stumble about. One even gets ripped apart by his buddy! Tough luck, dude.

Too bad it isn't over for the other guy, or the wayward mercenary. Dom's next curse gets caught halfway upon delivery as the weapon is brought her way. The motion of having to face its business end and the unexpected dance of evasion actually has Lady Luck slipping on some loose debris and falling onto her side in what could have been an ultra-calculated dodge attempt to avoid getting diced into pieces by a string of fire. As it is she can feel the disruption through the air mere inches away from her face. A little close!

Then comes some timely and well-armed reinforcements -- errr... A double-take is given, did Dom just concuss herself on that drop or does that lady /seriously have six arms?/ What the WHAT?

Worry about that later, Scalphunter's pissed off and closing in. It's a rare sight for Domino to be the one panicking on the ground and scrambling away from trouble. She should shoot! She COULD shoot. It might accomplish many helpful things! Though in the moment of confusion and being out-gunned, some familiar old fashioned panic takes hold.

Spiral has posed:
A brick is the next thing to connect with Scalp's head. If anyone is thinking of redubbing this scene, they don't have to put in the extra hours for how nice and crunchy it sounds. The targetting crosses projected like lasers from the Merc's head double-blink and blaze with greater luminescence, like his emotions have given them some extra pep. He snarls, veins and cables within his body bulging and surging. Subdermal worm-like movements as his cool goes on vacation. Maybe the brick bought some extra time, being so comically ineffective at damage, but echoing the sequence of events Domino herself has set into action. Adding onto her cascade of tripping this dude up. He roars.

Intead of immediately emptying his entire clip at Domino's position, or Spiral, whom had thrown the brick, he pauses to do something else. He snaps his weapon in half.

What appears to be in anger, does have a component of that, but is more a doubling of weapons rather disarming himself. The two pieces are smashed against his thighs, gaining barrels, scopes, charging dynamos and heat-bleed vents. He can't compete with Godzilla, but he does try a Predator-style yowl and portions his aim to both mutant women. The two weapons, chaotically different but still dangerous, rattle off searing beams of energy that leave after-images on retinas. "Die die die!" This isn't his first rodeo.

Spiral tries to summon her swords, but her trick of sheathing her steel in a neighbouring pocket dimension is suffering from bad luck over there. And she's very vocal about it. It's unfortunate she does this on the move, closing the distance to stab the dude, and has to resort of crazy dodges and hand-springs, getting closer and closer to Domino. "Owe you big if you lend me a hand!" she screams to Domino.

The roar of hoverjets thunders down nearby streets. Lights in the sky suggesting that trouble is being air-dropped in. This warzone is a hot one. An honest to Glob speaker system blurts out the Ride of the Valkryies.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Another interruption in the action comes in the form of a brick, the sound of it crunching against Scalphunter's head is just ... it's right in all the right ways. Domino just about snorts in amusement. It's so out of left field, and just... It's perfection! The guy loses his shit and breaks his own gun in half! Well, that part would be hilarious if it wasn't so terrifying.

The art of ripping a gun in half to then make two brand new guns is something she doubts Cable himself is capable of. Knowing that guy and his arsenal, part of her is kind of hoping he /can't./ Dealing with this guy though, Dom finally finds her ability to get upright in time to not be fried by a high yield energy blaster while she's busy chilling on the ground.

Thus concludes the thinking portion of the confrontation as auto-pilot takes over. Leaping, bounding, sliding, twisting, and always always always sending return fire with one or both of her sidearms. There's no time to be fancy or for called shots any more than there is time to take shelter. Dance between the bolts and send 'em if ya got 'em.

"Don't think I have a choice!!" she yells back to Spiral.

Gods, she can feel her hair getting singed. She can also hear Ride of the Valky -- what the HELL?

Oh. Oh no. No, Dom that's a TERRIBLE idea--

In a frantic moment where she's got a gun separating her hand from the ground and both feet are windmilling up over her into the air, the pale merc looks at that hovering vehicle and those big heavy speakers. Trajectories are gauged. Numbers crunched. She's going to need a reload really damn soon. There may be a way to buy them both some time.

One pistol goes empty as she risks a called shot to (where else?) Scalphunter's head...because he really seems to hate that... The second pistol goes empty as she fires up into the air...blindly striking the mounting brackets for some of those speakers.

Which speakers?

The ones which are juuust about to be right above where Scalphunter is going to be, naturally.

Spiral has posed:
Spiral's attention is ripped from the raging Merc towards the additional dance partners incoming. She doesn't like what she sees or hears. "Reavers!" There's a note of something like surprise and disapointment, like their presence is like biting into a raisin cookie when you thought it was chocolate chip. "Shit." The ramifications start holding up billboard signs in her head.

She almost loses her head when a blistering lance of energy scorches a line down her side and nearly deletes a limb. It doesn't feel good.

Scalphunter seems to be improving his aim by degrees. The longer he has to build momentum, the follow-up shots get closer and closer to tagging the two mutants, chewing up scenery, literally with every missed blast. But Domino isn't letting up, and keeps resetting his counter. Without eyes on the back of his head, and it getting rung like a bell with each shot, keeping tabs on Domino and Spiral is aggravating to the extreme. But he is ~quick~ and he is bracketing his shots to make movement worse. Limited how his opponents can utilize their agility, and the stats could be in his favour very soon. "You're going to look good on my wall! And ~you~, I've got a necklace that you can add pretty parts to! Hahaha!" His gun barrels have moved from red, to orange, to white now. The alloy that makes up his toys looking hot enough to melt most anything. The venting comes off it thin vicious plumes of vaporized steam, the air sounding tortured by its passage.

Spiral screeches in pain, nearly getting winged again and again with direct hits. Close enough is bad enough with the crap Scalphunter is throwing around. She's getting desperate, and she's going to have to close, but she just can't get in there.

Luckily, good fortune isn't on Spiral's side. It's in wrist of someone else. With Scalphunter growling and getting ring-a-ding-dinged in the head, those other shots are just assumed to be blind fire and out of fear. It's too late when he notes the disruption of the music above, how there's blurts of static, distortion and then housings of the speakers. Big ass speakers, meant to instill terror in foes and ra-ra-ra in the Reavers. An abomination of that trumpeting music, more like tubas and wonky trombones, follows the sparking audio devices just before they orbital drop onto Scalp's head and shoulders. The first gives him a speaker ~helmet~, and the next are a real domino-effect of heavy black rectangular modules WANG-CRASH-KRANG like the Hulk was personally haymakering him into the asphalt of the street. Scalphunter gets ground pounded into the pavement and his limbs splay out in a series of sparks and splurts of fluid of jet-black.

Spiral, breathing hard and in a half-feral crouch ready to pounce, just stares, mouth agape.

Neena Thurman has posed:
As one who lives a gambler's life, Domino knows an 'all in' situation when one arises. She's feeling cooked all over from near misses and probably has some unsightly scorch marks on her head but when the cards are down and a hail mary is quite well out of her hands from the instant she pulls the last trigger, the universe itself seems to hold its collective breath. She can just about feel the next bolt piercing through her face as soon as he catches on she's backed herself into a corner.

But the Valkyries... They aren't riding anymore. They're falling.

Hit or miss, she refuses to die in fear. Instead a wicked grin starts to take form, perhaps just long enough for Scalphunter to see it before the terminal velocity coup de grace.

Suddenly he's wearing a speaker for a hat.

Then he IS the speaker.

Where once stood a cybernetically enhanced monster now sits a small crater of busted electronics and gore, one of his weird looking and VERY hot guns twirling across the ground to park itself a foot away from where the albino stands.

Domino looks up toward Spiral and offers an aimless shrug.

Hang on. That lady had said 'Reavers.' Like MORE of them? Slooowly those pale blue eyes look back up to the weird thing hovering overhead. "Ah, crap." The notion is punctuated by the sound of two empty pistol mags clattering across the ground as she reloads. "Lady, you and your ...two-three-four--six arms are gonna need something more than loose bricks if we're still in this fight."

How about Scalphunter's toy? It looks far too hot for Dom to touch but Spiral's got some metal appendages, she should fare better!

"Some cover would be nice, too. Just putting that out there."

Spiral has posed:
Speaking of cover...

After Domino introduces Scalphunter into unifying dramatically with a fallen speaker system, the descending vehicle it had been a part of, pops a Reveal Party's worth of metal flechette and powder. The intakes help floof it around, discouraging accurate potshots while it rapidly drops to disgorge more Reavers just a block or two over in this dilapidated urban warzone.

Spiral's lips press so tightly together they practically disappear, and she hustles over to where Domino is doing a reload and reassessment of the situation. "What?"

Spiral tries, again, to summon her arcane armaments, rather than reach down and pluck up SH's discarded toy. She gets migraine for her troubles, which sets her to cursing and scooping up the simmering hot energy weapon. "Faaaak! This friggen place! What sort of bullshit they got here that's ruining my vibe?!"

The weapon is scooped up by her artificial arm, and she turns the thing over, trying to quickly grok things. There's an ammo counter LED, there's a trigger, there's a stupid amount of scope and heat sink buisness. But most definitely there is a grip and a buisness end. She grips it hard and points it outwards, and then goes to blast the splayed out limbs of Scalphunter. But she pauses and kicks at his legs, which detach a submachine gun, pistol and crossbow. "Gun nut."

The sounds of hut-hut-hut type chants are coming from down the street while the accoustics of the streets mess with the ambient classical distorted musak. Spiral curses again and screams, having a little tantrum, her migraine worse when she faces a particular direction. She points with a free arm. "That way...that way seems like they don't want us to go, but behind us...sounds like the dogs of war. I can't get us an ACME hole outta here until we get rid of the interference. This shit is stupid! It's like...tailored to fuck with witches, warlocks and wild mages! We gotta get outta here! Which way?!"

The toy in her hand gives a friendly chirp as the power cell reaches kill capacity. "Shut up! Gawd, you're annoying! This gun is definitely a blond, ~look a me! Pay attention~! For the love of Mojo..."

Neena Thurman has posed:
Sitrep: More baddies falling from the sky. 'Six-Guns' here is being messed with by an unseen force. Unseen force appears to be originating in the opposite direction of the sky-baddies. Good news, they won't have to fight /through/ the baddies to reach interference point. Bad news, they'll be getting their asses shot at the whole time they're running for it.

As Spiral kicks Scalphunter and his corpse disgorges additional weapons like this is some kind of damn video game Domino doesn't waste the opportunity, swapping her sidearms for a shiny new SMG. "Our gain" she distractedly says with a quick press-check.

Baddies are on approach. Weird muzak is still playing around them. Spiral...does not seem to be doing well. "But you CAN get us out of here if we fix whatever's blocking you?" Plus the question of 'which way.' Dom's powers still seem to be working fine so she turns to scan the horizon, listening for the subtle tug of Lady Luck's hand. Her motions abruptly stop as she levels the SMG in a specific direction. "That way. Haul ass!"

She's already sprinting but just about stops to laugh as Spiral has a fit over her newly acquired weapon. "At least you aren't having a philosophical debate with a piece of iron!" she kids back.

If they move fast enough they won't get caught out in the open. Hopefully. There's cover to be found but stopping to use it means less time running and more time being forced to engage with hostiles. Gotta stay focused on the evac!

Spiral has posed:
Spiral grimaces and shakes her weapon until it finishes, not helping the look of having a tantrum with a toy that isn't behaving. She considers trying to shapeshift into the previous owner, and a pavlovian sensation gives her a warning pinch of trying more magic.

Dubious looks are given to the liberated firearms, though they're perfectly maintained and functional. The sorceress is quick to follow though, hot on Domino's heels as forward motion is decided upon. "I can get us out of anything once that white noise is dealt with. If it can be dealt with! You know that sound when your relatives are over, and they're all in a room, and there's a ~chatter~? It's like that, in my head when I open the door to do something with hocus pocus. Open the door a crack and suddenly there's that room filled with millions of Aunts stirring their teacups and trying to give you advice, all at once. ~What have you been up to, Dear? Have you found a nice man? Are you still interested in that Rocking-and-Rolls fad?~"

The first shots come from behind, some zealous pursuit catching a glimpse of both women at the edge of range. The rounds come zinging by, snapping off 3 or 5 of the buzzy buggers as they spank off nearby concrete and masonry.

Up ahead, the streets look straight out of a paintball match. The buildings on the exterior seem perfectly normal, though glimpses inside reveal no attempts at interior decorating. The streets are branching at 45 degree angles. Perfect for house-to-house, street-to-street urban warfare. Signposts bearing such clever names as ~Ambush Alley~ ~Shotgun Street~ ~Railgun Road~

Spiral yells, while vaulting a concrete barrier for nonexistent construction and parking, "This is a nightmare! What did I do to deserve this?! Stupid mercs! At the very least they couldn't thrown the whammy down on the mutant shit, cause I can still see safe harbour just on the other side of this dimension. Jebus! There's a friggen ice cream shoppe three steps over! With people and everything! This is the stupidest pocket dimension ever!"

Spiral feels the passage of one particularly close round and stops, angry as hell, pausing just a moment to aim her stolen weapon at their pursuers. "I'm firin my lazar!"

DOOP DOOP DOOPDOOPDOOP. Bzzzzzaaaaaaak. For a couple heartbeats, a pure lance of energy douses the street behind. About a hand wide, licking along buildings, street. It's brief and doesn't kill anyone, but scorches a chaotic pattern of melted stuff as she struggles to aim it.

Neena Thurman has posed:
'Once that white noise is--'

"What'd you just call me?" Domino calls back with a slight grin, totally bullshitting with the other lady.

Spiral has a lot more to say about this interference and the way she eloquently puts it would have had the albino's head in her hands with laughter in any other situation. Drinks later. This needs to happen. "Then we'll find and evict 'em!"

Any further comments are cut off as Dom instinctively ducks and raises arms as the first snap of incoming fire cuts uncomfortably close. Not that there's really a comfortable distance to be getting shot at.

Into the urban 'ruins' they go and the palest one has to do a double-take, very nearly stalling out as so much new evidence becomes discovered. "This really /is/ a game, isn't it" she says between heavy breaths. A game with real weapons and real murder, but NO ONE would name a street 'Railgun Road' and if they DID do such a thing she would buy up every damn house on it and never leave.

As Spiral yells out about 'stupid mercs' Dom calls back "I resemble that!" as her SMG is brought up to snap off a quick burst for cover fire. "'Pocket dimension?!' We're inside a murder bubble??"

Spiral's calling out her intentions but before Domino can give her a hard time for it the streets are filled with weird noise and colorful lighting as Six-Guns indiscriminately melts a whole lot of scenery. "Do you even know how to shoot?!" Dom blurts out from behind cover. It's followed by an eye-roll as she grumbles "What a day..."

Ah, but there is a hidden bonus to be had in this 'city.' The layout of these buildings... Manhattan has a lot of 90 degree bends, very limiting for trick shots. But when those angles are halved to 45 degrees? It opens up a whole new world of possibilities.

When she catches a flicker of movement off to the side some lightning quick calculations are made and a trio of bullets are sent off into the wild, ping-ponging their way between the empty concrete skeletons until off to the side behind deeper cover there's a pained yelp as at least one of the slugs finds something decidedly softer to slap across.

"Stilll got it" she says to herself with a merry lilt.

Spiral has posed:
"I don't understand!" Spiral brays, but there's a crazed look coming to her face. She doesn't get how Domino can do what she does, but she's getting a sneaky suspicion it may run parallel to a certain Blond that she love/hates. "That doesn't make any sense!" But the proof is in the pudding, and Domino is delivering.

DOOP DERP DOOPBLART WONK

Spiral is apparently lining up another shot, encouraged by the flagrant destructive nature of the toy she wields. The odd noises it makes this time however have her scowl. The weapon becomes super hot, and she yelps. She makes a snap judgement and does a quick spin with the blistering thing. "I can shoot! I can shoot!" HUP! She commits to another 360 degree spin and then heaves the weapon end over end behind them. There's a KRUMP and then a cymbal-smashing, window-breaking cascade of shockwaves as ScalpHunter's pride and joy voids its warranty and goes to pieces.

Spiral shakes her hand and blows hastily onto it to cool down her partially melted fingers of her cybernetics. Her other hands grip onto Domino and shake at her like good luck will rattle loose. "Gimmie some! Share! Show me the horse show I gotta cram, the four leafed clover, the underwear, lucky charms!" Spittle flecks the corners of her mouth.

Those darn possibilities angling off in different directions, they're great for choosing your own adventure. But streets don't have to stay one-way. A roar and a trio of hovercycling mercs veer down a nearby street and vimm into view. Looking much like their buddies, they are armed to the teeth, but currently hands are on handlebars, concentrating on navigation. When they spot the two mutant, they gun it and look to want to play an unfair game of chicken.

Spiral points with three separate hands, like she could fingergun each new arrival. "More murder! Oh wow, those are Zamphoons! That's last years model!" It would be even more awesome if they weren't in their path. The six-armed Sassy femme squats, and quick-checks, guessing the bikes will be on them much sooner than anyone behind. "Got a coin to flip?!"

Neena Thurman has posed:
"I don't either!" Domino yells back amid the fray. "You have six arms, a flying barge was playing 'Ride of the Valkyries,' your gun started talking back to y--IKES!"

Duck and cover as the energy blaster goes full nuclear, throwing dust and debris as part of the city gets cratered. That kind of power was in their hands?!

More importantly, it solves another matter. Dom had /just/ been thinking about wanting some grenades for this skirmish and Spiral just dropped the biggest bomb she could have asked for. One which Domino had retrieved and handed off to her.

A grin slips across black stained lips. One which is quickly replaced by surprise as she's boldly grabbed and jiggled about. "What the HELL--?! Hands off, lady! ALL of 'em!"

Half of them do, at least. Now pointing to the incoming bikers.

"Good, this is good" the albino quickly remarks in what seems like the complete opposite of what defines 'good' in their situation. In a sudden twist she's grabbing Spiral and yanking her aside in a new direction. "Got something better. This way! Stay close, I have a plan!"

Well. She doesn't have a plan at all. What she has is a /hunch./ But hunches with her tend to merge quite nicely into plans.

These structures are hollowed out which means they're so much easier to duck and weave throughout. Shots zip and ping all around, the sounds of those weird bikes ripping down the streets reverberates like the never-ending roll of synthetic thunder, by all accounts these two are purely on the defensive and running for their lives. Which...isn't untrue.

But Scalphunter's gun post-detonation? It started something magical. Fractures in the concrete. Battered by shockwave. The wall of one of those buildings starts to tilt...
And fall...
Which causes ANOTHER to fall...

As they run there becomes a rhythmic *THOOM THOOM THOOM* as these falling structures slam into one another, creating what is quite possibly the world's largest game of Dominos.

The ground shakes as they get closer. "LITTLE FURTHER!" Domino promises, footing becoming more difficult to maintain as tons of concrete continuously slams together.

Without warning the wiry albino gal digs in her heels and yanks hard on Spiral's arm, the final piece coming into play as the wall looming overhead comes crashing down. What had been a hollowed out window becomes the only safe place for them to be standing as the first biker to catch up to them suddenly gets pancaked out in the street. Part of the bike shears off and violently catches the next rider in line, flinging him out of the seat and into the ruins with a crimson spray.

One of those bikes, seemingly in perfect condition, almost delicately parks itself right within Spiral and Domino's reach as thick dust clogs the air.

Spiral has posed:
Spiral can't complain as much as she would, what with the need to race and weave according to Domino's directions. She can gasp a lot though, and grunt and squawk. It's like having an angry seagull in tow, with the amount of noise coming from her. Spiral is not used to this. Chasing yes, but being pursued and at the mercy of the help of the enigmatic Domino, is a fresh brisk and terrifying experience. Her eyes can't help getting glimpses of potential pitfalls to the left and right. Everything second blink, her twisted perspective peeks into tantalizing places she should normally be able to slice and slip into. But reality in the charmingly coined ~murder bubble~ has her trapped in this nasty trip.

Spiral hears a whine that registers audible above the collaspsing sequence of structures, and she thinks its the approaching hovercycles. Nope, its her. Her throat constricts and she sounds like a chainsaw trying to chew into concrete. Very unflattering and embarassing, but she's not going to stop.

"Not good! Not good! Liar!" Spiral chokes out but sticks as close as she can, breathing in the smell of rock dust from near impacts, gunpowder and spine-stiffening terror.

Spiral barks out a cough as their progress is arrested and her body sways with the ripcord effect of standing ludicrously still. She's blessedly silent as the world, apart from a small window of safety, crashes down around them and rocks her world. Bottom lip thrust forward, her almost pupil-less eyes cock-eyed stare at the delivery of the pristine bike before them, like it was wheeled out of stage left. Even the gunfire seems distant, or abated by the butterfly effect pancaking of nearby threats. It's so much, it blanks Spiral's stupid extra-sensory slideshow of other realities. Blessedly narrowing everythind down to this little oasis. She turns her head towards Domino and sucks in her cheeks while her heart pounds away at the inside of her ribcage. Her mouth opens to say something, and there's a traffic jam of expletives and questions and declarations. What fights its way to the top is accompanied by the odd facial twitch. "Who rides bitch?"

Neena Thurman has posed:
As all of these questions, thoughts, and excitable four letter words zip through Spiral's mind, fingers swipe through Domino's hair. This causes a fresh cloud of bright gray dust to be cast into the air as she quickly tries to clear the fine powder out of what used to be black locks. At the moment it's a challenge to avoid looking like a Chiana cosplay attempt from Farscape.

Spiral's thoughts coalesce into a single question.

Domino pauses to stare at her. "I don't know how to work that thing! And I have a gun." Said gun is helpfully raised. "Let's not make a big deal of this" says the lady about to be in the 'bitch' seat.

Surely six arms are better than two for flying a hover cycle ...thing... anyway, right? Though as the pale gal goes to climb onto the back she sits facing backward to maximize the gun turret-ness of their future biking adventure, which means it's all the more awkward when she twists about and points "That way!" while still attempting to act as their compass. Surely this will all work out in the end. How could it possibly not!

"We got incoming, go go--WHOA!"

Spiral has posed:
Spiral hair-tosses, which is difficult while wearing her iconic helmet, and said headgear is discarded dramatically. It bonks like a old church bell before rolling into the rest of the refuse. A free pair of hands do a quick job of trying to dust herself down, the not-dandruff going off here and there. In a cheeky move, Spiral also swipes down her biker buddy's seat before her posterior can settle upon it. Pat-a-pat-pat. "Milady." Yeah, she might make something of this, if only because she can't help herself.

With a wry grin, she straddles the banana shaped seat, throwing a leg over and making the strangely hovering thing bob gyroscopically back to true netural. Scooching her butt up like she was polishing it, her feet go up on the stirrups and all her hands are going at the controls. A downdraft of increased power cycles up and all the doohickeys on the control panel make like an Xmas tree. "Oooooo, tunes..." A playlist scrolls up on a small communication device holstered and hooked up. A number of channels are open to comrades, but after Spiral pushes the ~shuffle~ button, it supercedes the com channels.

Slung along either side of the chassis, like wings, two saddlebags of weapons and equipment hang. A plethora of dangerous and useful equipment.

Spiral guns the bike and leans in the saddle to veer the both of them towards that pointed direction. The thing takes off like a shot without a squeal of tires, but with a shriek of turbofans and an intense vibration throughout the chassis. "Woooooooooo! You know!" Spiral yells over the sound of the engine and air streaking past. "They recalled these! Yeah! For reasons!"

Streaking down the street and from the collapsed structures, the road is a series of kinked roads, with those lovely optional diversions. "I could kill us all!" Spiral exclaims excitedly. "If the engine overheats! Or we catch a pigeon in the intakes! Or we spill a drink in it!"

Before she can add more to the list of problems, the bike has shot past a pair of jeeps coming to pincer the intersection. Two broads on a bike do not escape their notice and their reaction time is ~good~. A flurry of communication updates come over the stolen comms and weapon systems on the pursuing vehicles cycle up, feeding belts of ammo. Spotlights and laser dots try to settle upon the bike

Neena Thurman has posed:
At the 'milady' Domino can't think of anything more to respond with beyond snapping her fingers with another puff of dust and pointing at Spiral, though being honest a part of her wants to be grinning.

They're having fun with this. WHY are they having fun with this?? They both got pulled out of their lives, Spiral has some sort of power dampener to contend with, they're being SHOT AT...

Honestly it's all starting to sound like a pretty damn wicked first date, now that Dom thinks about it.

As the bike stabilizes beneath two new riders there's a lot of clinging and wobbling at the back end because SOMEone here hasn't had a lot of experience with this level of tech. "/Tunes?/ Hey I don't care how many hands you've got, don't be fucking with the radio while we're trying to not get our asses cooked!"

Yeah, no. Dom's losing this fight. AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' pops up and the hoverbike is gone like the wind, complete with the albino's cry of alarm as she desperately tries to not cartwheel right off the back of it.

Up front Spiral's having a grand old time.

Further back is a wild-eyed mercenary going "Shit shit shit shit!"

'Recalled.' 'For reasons.' "WHAT reasons?!" Dom blurts out. "Are you fucking KIDDING me!"

'Engine overheats.'
Scalphunter's gun.
'A pigeon in the intakes.'
The saddle bags packed full of dangerous looking toys.
'Spill a drink.'
The other biker getting ejected in a spray.

Spiral might not hear the *thap!* of Domino's forehead forcibly being dropped into an open palm.

Pursuit time! "I hate you so much!" she yells over a shoulder before the SMG rips off a few more bursts at the other vehicles. "When we're out of here I'm taking this turbofan piece of shit and flying it straight up the ass of whoever put us here!"

When the SMG runs empty she angrily throws the entire gun at their pursuers with another yell.

Spiral has posed:
"It's a...big...asssss!" Spiral yells, dropping a hint towards who she ~thinks~ is causing them so much trouble. This does feel like one big setup salad, tossed together in a big bowl of F-U. But something tells her that the Domino dressing that's been drizzled atop of it was an act of chance that was not anticipated by their primary antagonist.

"That's okay! That's how you know someone is honest! Honest!" Spiral yells as she turns her head to the side and offers a smile, hair slapping over her features to allow portions of it to be temporarily visible. A laser dot creeps up her cheek and stings one of her eyes, making her herkily-jerkily jank the bike into a fishtail, like a dog trying to dry itself after jumping in a creek. "OOooOOAAAAAAAAH!"

The SMG bashes in one of the spotlights, sending shards into the cheek of one of the mercs. He hangs onto the roll cage desperately and tries to unload a sidearm in response. The rotator cannon mounted next to him spins up and starts spitting metal hornets up the street. The bullets stitch like a sewing machine up towards the bike, getting closer and closer.

"What. Is. THAT!" Spiral squawks, blinking away the afterimage of the blinding red laser light, her other eye catching sight of something up ahead that bathes a roundabout with blue-white illumination.

In the center of the traffic circle is a small decorative looking fountain. The kind that has turtles, dolphins or mermaids gently spewing out beautiful arcs of tinkling water. No water in this one, though it bears many decorative dilapidated frescos. This one has been festooned with antenna and wires, cables and techno modules. A 3-tier techno-cake of rubber and steel drizzled along the marble. Atop the highest part, a polyhedron inscribed with precious metals and runes. The cables attached to it, surge and undulates, like leeches gobbling blood from something alive. The object tries to glow, but as soon as it flares, gobble-gobble-gobble, and the crackle of electrical energy is siphoned to the containment cubes further down.

Getting closer to this thing making her feel more and more uncomfortable. And also, the gunship drifting in from the left, looking like it intends to hold station over the strange setup up ahead. The side panel of the air support is thrown open, and figures prep weapons. Pretty Boy, Reese, and other notable longer-lived Reavers, grinning like the Grim Reaper.

'"Targets sighted boys. Pay day is almost here."' A pause. '"Whattaya mean he's dead...Whattaya mean Cole got flattened?! Fuckin hell, we'll sort it out later! Turn 'em into a fine red mist! Smoke 'em! Get Bonebreaker here ASAP!"'

Neena Thurman has posed:
"It's a big bike!" Domino counters. "That actually helps with the logistics!" Though with enough determination she likes to think anything is possible.

Spiral turns to flash a smile back. Dom turns to get a face full of white hair. She's sputtering and fighting with it until something decidedly shiny and red emerges from the curtain of hair. "SNIPER!"

/Sniper?!/ While they're speeding around on a hoverbike?? Who the heck has aim THAT good?

There isn't time to think about it as Spiral gives the bike a wiggle waggle, getting another "Wauh!" from her passenger who is suddenly making a grab for a spare metal arm or two!

The discarded SMG scores better than anticipated, the judges should give that play a favorable rating. As incoming fire starts getting dangerously close Dom's digging through one of the saddles for something suitably lethal looking.

Aha, this sure looks like a grenade! "Bouncing Bettie!" she calls, priming it then hucking it straight at the ground.

The plan is to bounce it off the street and have it detonate in the next rider's face.

What actually happens is the grenade itself catches the guy in the jaw, snapping his head around and flinging the bike into a crazy hovering spin as it starts clipping the scenery, hemmoraging bits and bobs off of itself as it goes.

Domino sucks in a breath through her teeth. "Oooh... That was a longer fuse than I--"

*B-DAM!*

The injured and crazily spinning bike, now with a ruptured fuel tank, gets caught up in the delayed explosion which both frags the vehicle and creates a solid wall of burning fuel across the street.

Again she flinches as a mangled handlebar helicopters through the air toward them but this ends up with her pulling hard on Spiral's side which unbalances their bike.

Pretty Boy, Reese, and the others should have a far more difficult time hitting the two gals on a stolen cycle over, say, the thing that's now occupying the old water fountain. Such a shame.

Spiral has posed:
"HowTheHelldidyouknow that nickname in C-" Spiral starts to angrily demand with a rictus expression of concentration, face bracketed by the handlebars, peering between them like their hoverbike was a guided missile. A pair of hands drop to the fuel tank and dash, their fingers jabbing at controls to change the thrust-to-lift ratio mix. The lights of the displays making like a pinball machine.

Shots crack off from those sharpshooters, but they don't bag a trophy. Solid rounds of viciously keen alloys hurtling past on deadly trajectories. Close enough to tease locks of hair as they drone past like wasps on speed. One pings off the curve of a handlebar, tumbling off making unnerving sounds like an untuned violin.

It's impossible not to hear the violent destruction of that bike and the unlucky rider. Nor the wall of intense heat that blooms on up, illuminating everything in hellish flash bulb effect. "Jay-Z take the wheel!" Spiral screams and hauls the steering column. The dynamic duo on the hoverbike skew into a drifting arc that takes a tight scenic route around that leeched artifact festooned upon the old waterfountain. The trajectory of the vehicle like a pad of butter sliding on a hot curved Wok.

Heading right towards an abomination of man and metal. Lower half Tank. Upper half He-man. Traversing in place and grinding up asphalt, arms outstretched to catch bike and riders and a big stupid grin of metal grill-like teeth and 80's shades. One of ~those~ Reavers.

"Oh shiiiiiiit!"

From above, the gunship lays down the kind of fire that doesn't seem to care about if their buddy catches some. And one of the chuckleheads is firing a damn harpoon and cable. Spirals free hands are reaching back, questing towards saddlebags, fumbling at Domino for either support, a weapon, or a handhold, or use her as a shield. She has a lot of free hands. "They aren't taking y- I mean us! alive!"

Spiral has posed:
Indeed, the fountain ~is~ taking more hits. More than a few. Priorities seem to be for the gals, not the gear. When you're so augmented, meat is usually the targeted weakness, and metal assumed to slug off quite a bit.

The fountain takes more hits. Bits of stone chips sent spinning, cherubs getting beheaded, cables and cords getting ruptured. There's only so much redundancy one can put into technology when it's not as hardened as the Mercs employed to deploy it. Bad things are happening to the artifact without proper power distribution.

A cascade of consequences building and flaring and surging.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Nickname? What nickname?! Domino would inquire further if she wasn't too busy hanging on for dear life while also trying to find means of fending off everyone trying to kill them both! It doesn't help Spiral's fiddling with some other controls which likely aren't meant to be fiddled with during operation, which may or may not be directly related to the increase in nervous yelps from Spiral's passenger as they cruise along.

Snipers fire and miss, barely. For she with already short hair it's particularly unnerving to feel one of the slugs nip at her locks. She's already wondering how long it'll take before they go for a second volley.

"Jay-Zeeeeaah!" the pale woman repeats, confused at first then simply alarmed. "That's not what--! ... Actually I think I like that version better! But are you even trying to keep us on track?!" she screams while looking to one side reveals the ground moving at an alarming pace rather than the buildings moving at only a mostly alarming pace.

New problem: Dom's facing the wrong way to see Tank Bro waiting to catch them. She's still looking for murdery toys to help their chances of survival which now has her looking -very intently- at the one saddlebag because it keeps her face that much further away from the ground.

"What th--" she mutters while pulling some completely unrecognizeable device out of the bag. "The hell is th--"

One metal hand reaches back and finds the albino.

Two more reach back and find the device which has just been unearthed from the bag.

At least one of them is likely going to get bumped up to first class in a moment.

Spiral has posed:
Spiral has her wide eyes on Bonebreaker, he of the many treads but no toes. Colliding into him will probably feel like hitting a tank. Time doesn't exactly slow for Spiral, only that she must focus on the nearest threat. She's going to try and avoid that while her multi-tasking hands steer, cop a feel of Domino, and grab onto that mysterious whatsit with the others. While she's good at handling a bunch of things on the fly, she's not perfect.

Her hands on the deadly saddle-bag object yank, activating the limpet mine. Arming it right in Domino's face with a loud chirping sound, as it is held out like a metal facehugger right to plant a kiss on a windpipe. It's magnetic.
So are Bonebreaker's teeth, which hove into view over Domino's shoulder, and his gaping ogrish maw snaps open to imitate the poster of Jaws.

It just so happens that Harpoon's latest quarrel, barbed with the same tip that once made Angel into Sewer wall art, sings down through the air to go through both Domino and Spiral's thigh meat. "Two for one Shwarma baton." is the the chuckling promise he gives to Prettyboy, hanging half out of the gunship's side hatch. The shot is perfect now that he's judged the ballet of objects moving about down there. He's quite proud of making that shout through the wreath of cables and decorative dolphins. Threading the eye of the needle. "Payday."

The harpoon is also metallic.
Domino is very fine, but is not as metallic as the things about to kill her.

The bike is metallic, but there's closer things for a military grade mine to go for when what it's programmed to seek are so close to Domino. One could say there was a randomness entered.

The mine swoops up and face-plants Boneshaker, and the harpoon (and line) are jerked up to adhere to the same explosive, pushing into and out of the side of the Tankish Reaver's noggin in a bad Steve Martin impression.

"Are we dead?!" Spiral hears Bonebreaker's shout, Domino's confusion, the twang of a metal cord losing slack, the smell of Reaver breath and the feels her hands losing something important.

But she doesn't loose the most important handles: Domino, and the bike.

Bonebreaker clamps his hand onto the rear seat, big strong mit coming down between a pair of Domino's legs to try and keep a grip as he and the bike whip around the fountain in a shortening circle.

The jets of the hoverbike flare as hot and hard as they'll go to get as much speed as possible. Spiral casts a look back, dreading what she'll see but damn well going to confirm just how many people are on this ride.

Neena Thurman has posed:
From behind Spiral there is a single and acoustically distinct note from the other woman as something with a bit of give is grabbed by one of those metal hands. Quickly following is a slap to the very same metallic appendage. "Later!"

Or so Domino thinks, right up until the Weird Whatzit in her hands gets visibly armed by a different pair of hands.

"Ah--!"

It's lucky that Dom ended up in the middle of this mess with barely any of her own weapons. Using and discarding everyone else's means she's quite light on the ferrous material, which means a now active limpet mine ditches her like a bad habit to seek out far more colorful pastures. IE: Bonebreaker's face. *WHAP!*

Before she can mentally catch up to this turn of events something with a mean looking cable spears the same guy -through the head- with a spark and a wicked twang like the cable of a suspension bridge giving way.

"Oh--!"

Bonebreaker grabs the back of the bike, uncomfortably close to the mercenary gal. Tank treads be damned, SOMEhow the hover bike keeps on bikin' around and dragging the big ugly Spearfaced Minenoggin McTankbro along with them.

"Shit--!"

If their bike were a snowspeeder then the strange device within the fountain would be the AT-AT, drifting round and round while Bonebreaker makes grabs for the reverse-seated lady and ends up ripping open one of the saddlebags to dump gods know what all around the fountain. Their laps get shorter and shorter by the pull of the cable as Domino starts kicking at Tankbro's hand, though while they keep edging closer in...

...The cable now serves as an anchor for the airship above them.

"Fuck--!"

In a final act of desperation Dom stops kicking at Bonebreaker's hand to instead focus her attention on one of the bike's rear-most panels. The one with a massive caution sign and all sorts of funky little icons of lightning bolts and things exploding. The panel flips away to also immediately smack Bonebreaker in the face thanks to the magnetized mine which sets the stage for the high voltage connector the albino snaps free.

Which also slaps home against Bonebreaker's face.

An arc of electricity shoots from the bike through Bonebreaker's face up the harpoon cable toward the airship where it leaps through Harpoon into one of the engine's circuits which overloads the system and sends the airship veering off course.

"This!"

The jolt loosens Bonebreaker's grip, launching the two crazy ladies and their damaged bike back into the ruins while a well-tethered airship starts getting pulled down toward the ground right as the cable suddenly -yanks- in the opposite direction and hauls Bonebreaker, mine and all, against the center of the fountain right in time for one final *Beep!* as if some cosmic judge decides 'You're Fucked.'

Spiral has posed:
In another life Ricochet Rita was a stuntwoman who did exciting and dangerous things for money. She'd jumped off buildings, rolled over in cars, and been yoinked and yanked around on wire-work if the motion picture demanded it. Nothing in Hollywood prepared her for this. The staggering amount of near-death disasters going off around them. The sheer amount of infractions if this was a set, would have given the Lot lawyers heart attacks in spreadsheet form. The physics of reality seemingly so rooted in place, immutable and harsh and dependable. When the Hoverbike slips the bear-trap grasp of Bonebreaker, it's like going to Lightspeed and they're atoms in a particle accelerator. The intake on the bike sucks in such draughts of air the speed takes Spiral's breath away as she leans back against the seat and Domino.

Spiral would pass out laughing if she'd have been able to see Bonebreaker take such insult and injury to his face. A sequential conveyor belt of pies upside his mug couldn't have been funnier. The way his expression, half-hidden behind the limpet mine contorts and spasms like a Looney Tune, his mouth smeared up against the metal as he faux makes-out with the explosive. Herkily-jerkily slobbering while he gets a dose of high voltage.

The aircraft is in big trouble, with all that other crackling lance of energy having melted Harpoon's hands into crispy crab-claws into the weapon and throwing PrettyBoy from the hatch like he was in Circe-de-Soleil. The attempt at correcting the flight pattern of the gunship is ruined by all that tethering and lack of power. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

The fountain goes up in spectacular fashion. It is a huge KRUMP before the bow-wave of the blast spreads outwards in a sphere of concussive force. The tortured artifact is allowed to surge, and the stolen energy is touched off like powder kegs.

Outwards, gushing forth, another wave chasing the first and slashing at it with an anathema of magical energy. Hounds of eldritch energy clawing at man-made electrical fields, creating petals of chaos as seen from above. The gunship would be able to see it, if it wasn't hurtling towards and into a building on the end of a tangled wire and unable to navigate the conflicting natural and unnatural forces allowed to play.

Shrapnel from the fountain is sent skyward, pieces of equipment, metal and weird science trailing smoke and glowing melted bits.

"Oh...Oh oh oh. Oh! Oooooohfffffffuuuu!" Spiral isn't auditioning for Harry Met Sally, but she is feeling something. She shakes at Domino as she squashes up against her as they speed along. Her hands, those that aren't pawing or steering, are jabbing and scratching at the air. A big cosmic clockface pizza appears before the nose of the hoverbike, the width barely enough for the girls and the bike to clear. The not-pepperoni of dimensional coordinates and sigils dotting and revolving like a gatling barrel. Bullet holes of possible places busting out like they were a shooting range paper target. "This might tickle!" she screams, trying to complete the spell before the street runs out and the wall rushes to meet them.

Neena Thurman has posed:
It's all a bit much even for Lady Luck. It isn't every day so many pieces end up so nicely aligned that one helpful little cause can result in such a glorious chain of effects. Domino's been quite amped up since first arriving here and she's only gotten wound up further by each minute, though all of the pieces were certainly helped in getting placed by an unexpected hand or six.

As the two scream through the city ruins like they were fired out of a railgun the grand finale begins to erupt. Domino can feel the wash of warmth across her face and see the incoming shockwave which still manages to out-pace the speeding bike. Spiral's hold may well be the only thing keeping her butt on the seat!

Then the aircraft falls and provides an encore of madness, just in case enough destruction hadn't been doled out in the first wave. There might be some yelling somewhere in all of the noise but it's a far more triumphant noise this go around. Someone's finally starting to enjoy herself!

But something else is happening up front. It sounds strange and unusual and nothing like what Dom's familiar with, prompting a calculated glance toward the front from underneath the curtain of white hair always batting against her. "The hell are you doing up there now?!" Blink. "What IS that? And why's it look like a pizza??"

'Might tickle?'

Ah, the thing behind the 'pizza' is a wall. She recognizes one of those when she sees one.

It's, uh. It's coming up kinda quick...

A dreadful sounding "Oh shit" about disappears within the wind before a more energetic follow-up emerges, "When is this day gonna end?!"

For now it seems her part has been played. Now it's a matter of clinging to Spiral as much as the bike. Wherever they're about to go, she'll take her damn chances with whatever it is!

Spiral has posed:
The portal begged and bartered into existence forms just before the bike and riders become pizza graffiti. Instead of forward motion coming to an immediate stop, the mystical membrane is torn through and the journey continues.

Gossamer tendrils, web-like strands of that slice of doorway cling to riders and bike alike. Like streamers and pennants, they trail out behind like they're a less firey, more spooky Ghost Rider(s). They do tickle some.

Spiral blows past her lips, nose wrinkling at the spectre-like touches that try to pull at the mortals. The space the bike travels is a tight tunnel, and it too has branches that careen off into different places. The walls semi-translucent, like literal wormholes into weird places. Spiral's heart is still beating so fast, and she swears she can hear it. Breath and respiration echoing off the dimensional cavern, mixing with the throaty whine of the hoverbike.

Spiral jerks pulls up, and the bike soars upwards to spear through the cavern and up into a new reality. And then there's air.

There's a literal movie set. A for-real one. A lot of some action movie bearing only a passing semblance to the crazyness they'd escaped from. A useful echo to home in on for the Sorceress, easy to formulate in the mind of someone warped to be more useful to Mojoworld. The hoverbike, still trailing sparks and errant electricty, whip-lashes signposts and lightposts, sparking up billboards and exploding neon advertising signs.

The hoverbike's engine chortles and hums as Spiral throws it into idle so it can just...~coast~. Spiral's hands come shakily off the handlebars and she takes in some deep breaths. She half turns to ride side-saddle, seemingly unconcerned she's just letting the bike move along while she regards Domino. A tongue cluck and she leans over to gently feather at Domino's shorter hair, flicking off an errant piece of debris. "...Got a little something."

Neena Thurman has posed:
It's the roadtrip powered by hopes and dreams, where every second matters and Domino still has no frickin' idea where it is they are. Now it has the added bonus of her not knowing where it is they're about to end up! Because whatever it is Spiral's working on? Yeah, that has to be a portal. It's the strangest portal Domino's ever seen but nothing here has made much sense so it's adhering to the theme of the place.

"Gyah! That tickles!" she blurts out between heavy breaths.

For a time the two exist within unknown space with the passenger in particular staring with wide eyes while doing her very best to keep all appendages within the moving vehicle, as it were. "This is a very slow portal" she states, every word echoing within the peculiar dissonance of the wormhole. "Top notch special effects though. If not in that 'oh Jay-Z I'm going to die' sort of way."

Another startled squawk comes as Spiral unexpectedly darts the bike in a new direction and pops them both back into a legitimate dimension, bringing with them but a sliver of the previous world's drama in the form of sparks and smoke.

Another feeling of dread overcomes the albino. Not another action set! They just -escaped- one of those! But at long last the bike is allowed to relax and with it the rider and passenger, one turning to the other to pick something out of her hair.

"I'll consider myself lucky if there's only one piece of something up there" she grumbles. "What in the ever-loving hell was THAT all about? And where are we now? And ..." she wildly gesticulates with her two hands. "-What?-"

Grimy, sweaty, out of breath, she looks ready to fall right off the bike and pass out wherever she lands.