17735/Fallout From The Doohickey

Fallout From The Doohickey
Date of Scene:	22 April 2024
Location:	Domino's Safehouse
Synopsis:	A defenseless safehouse is murdered senselessly due to six idiots trying to resteal a stolen crystal they stole.
Cast of Characters:	Frank Noble, Neena Thurman
Tinyplot:	Devil in the Details

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Frank Noble has posed:
Flashback:

"Dear Professor Ivo,

Thank you for your recommendation on my work and internship. I have found your moral support invaluable. I find the area of quantum conciousness a fabulous one and think it cna bypass the conventional LLM model to general intelligence by doing the same thing all at once. Can you check my math to make sure that we are right? If so, I believe the good to mankind (and funding potential) are without limit, but of course the ethical considerations....

Flash Forward: In theory, Domino's safehouse (one of them) should be almost impossible to find. Both as an experienced operative, and with her power, generally only the stupidest or most powerful of foes would take her on. But there is a third category not as often encountered...the greediest. The shipment was known only by five people; all of whom had rock solid alibis and hidden in a puzzle within the more innane Plutonium Centerfuge. After all, thieves would see a bright shiny object and want to sell that rather than look in the bowels of the crate for the far more dangerous and valuable cargo therein that just slid right into Domino's way for her to pick it up.

But this crew has more than one trick up its sleeve, and power or not, the passive radio beacon that only activates for 1 second every week is enough to bring the thug's too her doorstep as they currently have it under survelance.

Neena Thurman has posed:
The thing about safehouses, they're supposed to be safe. They generally are if the owner does their due diligence! And sure, while it's true that everything is finite Domino has to have her spaces where she can let at least half of her guard down. Safe havens to get hammered, recover from injuries, maintain her gear, and to simply catch up on much needed rest. Every operator in the game has basic requirements to keep themselves sharp, luck will only let her run without caffeine for so many hours.

Finding one of her safe havens is rare. Finding one when she's occupying it rarer still. Knowing when to spring the trap while she's passed out for the night is one in five million two hundred eighty-six thousand nine hundred and thirteen.

For this team to have done their own homework and beaten the odds, catching the lone albino at the single worst possible moment for her to be caught up to, is a particularly unheard of anomaly.

It's about as big of an anomaly as it is to find an area underneath New York City which doesn't happen to smell like a sewer, thanks to a number of air fresheners which keep the small space somewhat liveable. It's a small bonus she chose to crash at this location for the night solely because it happened to be the closest and she didn't feel like duking it out with evening traffic. The amount of gear stashed inside is less. The creature comforts are less on the latter and perhaps more on the former (damn roaches.) But it's a space to crash on a ratty old couch, stay warm and dry, and not have to worry about any more noise than the sound of fluid flushing through pipes now and then.

One thing going for the space: Lots of exits. Though in turn this also means lots of entry points.

Frank Noble has posed:
Though neither player knows it, of course, there are subtle differences between magic and mutant powers. All things being even, mutant powers win in the here and now; they have clear limits, and while they might bend the rules, magic makes them scream bloody murder. Also, Serendipity and Luck are not the same. Luck is a harsh mistress, even for her favored and gives and takes away...Serendipity is the series of fortunate coincidences working toward the greater good of all those involved or, coincidentally, the entire planet.

As it is, the crystal is exactly where it needs to be right now, though the six armed and riot armored thugs that rush the door and batten it down might beg to disagree. They came through the front door, not even bothering to do their homework, worried that she might move. The organization has enough trouble tracking ONE insane person (who they dont know has luck powers) without having to deal with another (that they DO konw has luck powers).

Of course the front door is often the most trapped.....

Neena Thurman has posed:
One thing that Domino really hates? Rude awakenings. She keeps the ringer on her phone down enough to stir her awake without launching her into the ceiling. She finds places to claim which aren't likely to have car alarms suddenly going off...

She also puts suppressors on her booby traps. In a fashion.

The one shot, one use twelve gauge slug with a plastic soda bottle attached to the end makes the most peculiar sound ever, really kind of hilarious if not for the idea of a solid chunk of milled brass getting launched toward the average chest height of the first person through the door. It's no deer slug, it'll take quite a lot of body armor to stop and that does not account for shattered ribs due to its sledgehammer-like impact.

This is also more than enough to get her awake! The old single barrel break action which she picked up for a song has served its purpose twice over. In what is usually the first target hitting the ground with a comically large hole through the sternum, the pale lady is dropping to the floor and reaching under the couch for an FN P90 before her vision has begun to clear.

One downside: She's not in her armor. One upside: This is her home turf. If she has the shot she's also going to slap a hidden button which releases a steel shield from the ceiling, nothing more than a makeshift bullet deflector to buy her a few more seconds.

Frank Noble has posed:
The shield falls down. The Helm, not in proximity but having sent people here, desperately tries to keep the idiot who wanted to be first from dying but, as luck would have it...he doesnt...live. The other five swear and one of them asks, "Arent we a high tech thief organization? Why are robots not going this?"

"Because a) We are contractors hired by the org; and kept on retainer but we dont get full shares and" click click blam blam blam blam on the steel sheild, "benefits, we also dont get full risk either. Its a basic element of Capitlism. They SELL those robots to despots in small third world countries far away from here that the big guys never notice. Not all super viallins can afford their own infrastructure."

"This is why I like Communism."

"This is why no one likes you Comrade."

"Its a better moniqur than Monolog..."

"Monolog is an excellent name for a team leader, I keep communications clear, and provide information dumps, plus I believe it gives me a kind of narrative immunity that" BLAMBLAM BLAM BLAM they shoot at the steel barrier and Monolog swears, "Let me finish talking next time you idiots. Spread out and find the cystal. This lady is in the Black file, and that means it has to be insanely profitable to take her on. In and out. Right?"

Grumbling about wasted time on narrative interludes, the group spreads out looking for the Crystal.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Huh. These boys sure do chat a lot! Domino can quickly rule out some of the typical actors. Not police, special forces, SHIELD, military... Could be a merc outfit but this raises other questions. If they found her they must be good, but the way they're talking and handling the op would suggest the opposite.

Most importantly though, she hears what they're after. 'The Crystal.'

/What/ 'crystal?' She would have known if she stole a cryst--

That goofy little box thing? Gotta be it! It's the only questionable piece in this joint beside herself! Now where did she put that thiiing... Oh, right.

While they're bickering amongst themselves she's rattling off rapid suppressed fire in quick bursts to keep them from fully breaching the room, but her focus is on finding an ever handy flashbang grenade. Nope, that container's MREs. That one's spare bullets. Here! With the prior knowledge she's already lost this safehouse the albino goes whole hog and grabs two of them, pins out and both tossed in the same motion.

This...is gonna be loud.

Frank Noble has posed:
"I am not so sure about your claim of narrative immunity boss."

"No one cares what you think Skeptic."

"But your entire premise depends on us being in some kind of work of fiction."

"Not necessarily. If everywhere is a story relative to somewhere else, then story could be a method of con-" as a bullet slams Monolog right between the eyes.

A two flash bangs flies through the air as the remaining for idiots spread to the four winds. Normally, they have every element of their plan micromanaged to the point of perfection. Normally, medium level players can be upper level action gods with the right mind behind them, a mind who is otherwise quite distracted.

FOOM.

The grenades blind and deafen them utterly, which hapepns to also preserve their lives (nomillay) so the accuracy of that throw is even more accurate than normal, but all four are stumblniga arund and shooting at random as she finds the crystal right in her hand.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Even Domino needs to cover her ears and close her eyes for this one! Surrounded by steel and brick the double whammy of concussions are particularly beastly, threatening to suck the air out of the room while stirring up a remarkable amount of dust. If these boys know anything about their mark, this is only the warm-up act.

Somewhere along the way the coveted crystal...box...thing finds its way into her palm. A quick squeeze and she stuffs it into a pocket. Another burst from her P90 and she grabs some shoes. Bad luck to be caught barefoot down here! But if she /really/ wants to give these guys a proper send-off she has to get deeper into the tunnels.

But a different thought crosses her mind. These guys are very, very talkative and she'd very much like to get those shoes on. Another quick retreat is in order while they're still (hopefully) blind and deaf but they'll recover and regroup. She still hasn't had a chance to get a proper headcount, either.

As wild bullets ping and ricochet off of the mess of pipes and old masonry she dips into the shadows and takes care of the feet situation.

Then comes a random shot in the dark. "You boys mind telling me what this is all about?" Dom calls out with a glance to her P90's magazine. First one's half done, a quarter of her reserves gone. "I don't like getting shot at before coffee!"

Frank Noble has posed:
"WhAT?" Comrade says.

"WHAT?" Skeptic says.

"She asked why we are here." Mercinary #5 says.

Mercinary #6, who felt callsigns were stupid despite what Monolog said, and went by Six; who had two pet Ferrets and a macrame hobby, said, "WHAT?"

"I guess my ears were a bit more shielded..." Merchinary 5 says. "I like Coffee too," BLAM BLAM BLAM he shoots at her but misses wildly, "You ever try Cold Press?"

"WHAT?" "WHAT?" "HE SAID PRESS THE ATTACK!?"

Six charged Domino fully believing the entire group is with her. At this point, metaphorically speaking, the Helm just throws its arms up and decides you can't protect stupid...

Neena Thurman has posed:
There's time for an extended rolling of eyes as the mercenaries start shouting at each other. "Flashbangs AFTER questions, Dom" she hisses to herself. "You gotta stop getting all caught up in the moment, save the blindbangers for act three!"

She's not getting anything useful out of these guys. Not after they get mixed messages and think it's time to push their assault. A quick breath passes through her teeth, lavender and vanilla from those air fresheners, and she re-enters the fray.

Two quick bursts of AP bullets cut the cables holding that steel shield in place. A solid kick sends the heavy panel tipping toward the other team. If they don't move quick they're gonna be on the floor and hurting.

The compact PDW is tucked to her shoulder as she draws a bead on one guy after another, sending a short burst toward each one of them in systematic execution...with emphasis. This is HER space, HER turf, and she was enjoying a shockingly trouble-free night's rest, darnit! Playtime's over, now these guys get to see what they're really up against.

Frank Noble has posed:
Between the electricity, the guns, and the bad luck of the situation. The four of them are snuffed ipso facto rearrango. So much useful information, snuffed. Knowing why the bad guys want this thing? Snuffed. Were he alive, Monolog would say...

Nothing because he has a slack jawed utterly surprised expression on his face, that reads, "This cant be happening, I have script immunity."

Unless, Monolouge, you have served your minor and mostly insgnificant purpose in the grand scehemo of things.

The Safehouse is ready for ritual cleansing / burning / walk away slow motion explodiing in the background.

Neena Thurman has posed:
Well then. Even more information is learned from the encounter and Domino, who thought /for sure/ she would have to dive further into the old tunnels and blow this space to high hell, is now realizing she actually has a comfortable amount of time to get herself and her gear sorted before causing a major power and plumbing disruption in the Big Apple. Gosh, she might even be able to cut back a couple of blocks of C4! That stuff doesn't grow on trees, you know.

Those who came after her are going to get a quick searching over in case they were silly enough to leave behind useful information, then it's all down to erasing this space from the game board and finding herself a goddamn coffee.

Sorry for the noise, Morlocks!