Owner	Pose
Spiral	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!"
Domino	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	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.
Domino	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	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."
Domino	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	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.
Domino	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	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.
Domino	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."