Android Repossession

Summary:
May 15, 2014: SWAT teams are sent into the city to retrieve a rogue android for the CIA. Unexpected resistance is encountered. (Language and Violence warning.)

A Manhattan Bar

It's a small bar. One which is about to need some serious redecoration.


Characters

NPCs

  • NYC SWAT

Mood Music:
None


It's about 4 in the morning that Eight gets the email. A brief, "<address>. Help me! They're going to be here any minute, please hurry." It had to be brief, after all, Evelyn would only have minutes after sending the email to take cover before the CIA would know. And they did know.
It's not five minutes later that armored personnel trucks have begun rolling onto the streets, red and blue lights flashing as they skip traffic lights and roll down streets with sirens silent. They've begun congregating outside of a small bar surrounded by other concrete and brick buildings. A bookstore, a christian meeting centre, and a small grocery store. The bar has a couple stories on it, much like the buildings nearby, and several cars are parked out by the side of the street. It won't be long until the APCs have the street completely blocked off, and the few that have arrived are pouring out men in blue and black body armour that read 'SWAT'.
Overhead, a helicopter with a mounted minigun flies just out of earshot of the scene, waiting for the moment the raid will begin to illuminate and offer further protection for the units about to capture their target: one little robot.
It's in the bar that Evelyn hides. "I knew this was going to happen." She mutters to herself, huddled behind the bar of the counter. A couple of tables have been pushed up against the windows, a broom lays across the handles to the door, blocking entrance to those that would seek entry. Wheezing a little bit, she covers her mouth and coughs a couple times before lifting herself over the counter to look at the door. Small glimpses of red and blue light leak in from the outside, and she ducks back down. "Come on, Eight. I need you."

*

There's the feeling in the air this morning of an impending storm, that itching, nagging sort of instinct that -something- is going to happen. Something big enough as to end up on the news in short order. The thing is, Domino's trying her best to ignore it. Just because the feeling might be there doesn't mean that it's going to involve -her.- She's camped out in a warehouse-turned-safehouse, feet kicked up on the edge of a table as she fusses over cleaning various weapon bits and pieces with nothing but the silence and a half empty bottle of rum to keep her company.

It hasn't helped her cough any. The last few hours have slipped away in a daze, her motions more automatic than planned out. She's been in an odd mood the last day or two, somehow things just don't seem to fit into place as they should. It's probably killer jetlag. It happens.

Then the message comes through, the phone buzzing against the tabletop beside her.

'Something big about to go down on Apple Island, next to Second Coming. If you're there, it's time to leave. Now we're even.'

Clearing her throat one more time with a grimace, Dom's legs heavily fall off the edge of the table back to the floor as she pulls herself upright. Muscles feel fatigued. Joints sore. Maybe she picked up a cold in Siberia, lucky her. The location provided isn't all that far away, though far enough to not concern her all that much.

And yet…

A muttered, tired "Goddammit" escapes alongside a heavy breath as she returns to the table and neatly places the current part back in its temporary place. A pair of yet assembled .45's are retrieved and tucked into holsters, followed by a pair of .40's, then she goes for the blacked out Jaguar parked nearby. To hell with the trench, all she's going to do is take a closer look. Nothing more. She'll never have to leave her car, no one'll notice all of the weapons she's lugging about.

*

Theres a pause, as the message finds Eight. "Leopard, load up now and secure. Priority tasking."Theres a short series of beeps, signaling the massive mechanical's spider feelings on the matter before it begins to climb into the back of that big black trophy truck. Each leg clacking into place underneath the fabric camper shell. The dead bodies in the alley behind it, can wait for another night. Climbing up into the cab, and pushing the engine over with a snort of that bigblock V-8.
EMAIL:"Message received and understood, you have priority tasking. En-route 3 minutes. Destroy all wireless devices please."Then like a thief in the night, that big truck starts to creep towards the perimeter. Overhead comes an odd-whup-whup-whup first however, as that tiltrotor drone breaks away from it's orbit and begins scout things out. Undocking the minigun under it's fuselage as it readies for action, mapping out units and passing the information to the rest of the network. Namely Eight and Leopard.

*

APCs roll up like ants to honey. Two. Four. Six. Seven. Two on either side of the street with three across the building. Police cruisers surround the APCs, providing another layer of cover for the swat soldiers that deploy out of them. There has to be more than eleven cruisers in total. At least the rain is letting up a little bit, now just a light drizzle. All of the SWAT team members have side arms and M4 rifles or various stocks and designs. At least a couple soldiers are carrying RPGs, and it's not clear what all the electronic equipment in a couple of the APCs are for. Perhaps they plan to take Evelyn's broken body back to the lab for reassembly and interrogation. She is just a machine, after all. On top of one of the other APCs is a sonic blaster, while another seems to have some variant of a satellite dish.
Evelyn, meanwhile, remains crouched behind the bar. She's shaking, probably with fear. Reaching behind the bar, she grips the power cord to the computer and unplugs it. On all fours, she begins to crawl away from the bar. She's heading upstairs, carefully. "Oh god, fuck.. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck." she murmurs between steps. It's almost eerily silent once all the vehicles roll up and turn off their engines. the soldiers are deployed.
On either side of the walkway, two groups of two soldiers begin to approach the door while skirting the wall. They're crouched low, readying themselves and getting into position. Meanwhile, two snipers on catwalks built on buildings on either side of the street have taken up position. One of them is prone, carrying an easily .50 cal rifle. This is gonna suck.

*

Eight parks that truck quite calmly, before doffing it's pack and climbing out. A small robotic spider about the size of a cat scuttles from the pack, and shoots up the wall to Eight's side. Working its way above the perimeter, towards Evelyn's position. The spider silently steps down from the pickup's bed, limbs and multi barreled gatling guns unfolding from their transport position. Leopard once unfolded is about as big as a VW beetle, and bristling with guns. It's only deocration is a cartoon leopard with a tophat and a pair of tommyguns, but thats probably an inside joke. Anyway, as Leopard steps away from the truck the roof hinges back over the bed, and a semi-articulated arm with a single .50 emerges from uptop.
The first shot, isn't fired from the ground though it's fired from that tiltrotor. A short five round burst aimed at the chopper's oil coolers, enough to force it down but not enough to destroy the thing or necessarily hurt anyone. Immediately afterward, comes a flurry of pill shaped objects raining down from the sky. Twenty 40mm smoke grenades, which if you don't have thermal sights is about to become a problem.

*

It doesn't take Domino long to approach the scene. One, it's close. Two, traffic is backed up far enough that she -can't- get any closer while driving. Not without a monster truck kit. Visibility is somewhat limited this far back but she can still see enough. Something -real- big is about to go down. As luck would have it, it has nothing at all to do with her.

So why is she considering making it her business..? A hunch? The fact that she can spot telltale SWAT markings? Knowing her luck she could take a shot in the dark and figure out exactly what this is related to. -Still- not her business. She doesn't owe that girl a damn thing.

Except that she nearly killed Evelyn without a second thought.

The merc pauses to look at herself in the rearview mirror, pale blue eyes now slightly bloodshot. Pasty white skin has picked on an unusual greenish tint. Even in the dim lighting she swears she can see the thin black outline of some of her veins. Death warmed over. A cold wouldn't be doing -this- to her.

"Ah, fuck this."

She's barely out of the car when shooting starts. She can already make out the heavier thump of grenade rounds being launched. By the time the trunk's popped open she already knows to reach for a gas mask. First. Before those bloodshot eyes fall upon the arsenal situated before her. (Not your fight, Domino. Get her out of there then get the fuck out of town.)

Something belt-fed it is. Plenty of suppressive fire without a need to reload, so long as she's not careless about it.

(Maybe this'll start to seem like a good idea before I get my tiny white ass handed to me.)

*

As soon as Eight's truck shows any activity, several SWAT members are over there with their guns pointed at the cabin. Now, when /drones/ start exiting the truck? That's a whole other story. Immediately two of the SWAT members open fire on Leopard, one of them launching an underbarrel grenade to the vicinity of the mechanical marvel, while the third mouths something silently. A subvocal microphone. These aren't your normal SWAT teams.
With the guns firing in the background, the two squads of soldiers by the bar doors move in to open the door. They're not messing around. Four shaped charges later, the door is blown open at the hinges. They're moving fast, but this is a pro operation by spooks trained better than the military. Not your average grunts. More SWAT spooks maintain the perimeter, hiding behind car doors with weapons trained at the bar. The sonic cannon is aimed towards the vicinity of the gunshots.
The helicopter, swings wide of the scene, and it'll take some time for the rotordrone to reach it, given it was flying far enough out to atleast be nearly out of earshot. Once the report comes in, however? It begins to turn, moving in to intercept the situation. It won't be long until it meets the drone.
Evelyn, meanwhile, is upstairs and hiding. She coughs and grasps her chest. Her body is putting out a little extra heat than normal, almost experiencing flu like symptoms. The explosion downstairs brings her back however, and she cringes at the sound of snapping/breaking wood. The second floor is all tables and another mini bar. One more floor and she'll be on the roof, but they probably have snipers, she figures. The best she can do is hide behind the upstairs bar, though she knows they'll be expecting her there. They all had the same training she had.

At least the streets are relatively cleared of pedestrians.

*

Muffin Tin, the lovable cat sized killing machine makes it to the bar's roof. searching for a method of entry, as things kick off. Leopard for instance, Leopard don't play. The moment it receives fire it drops both of those underslung GShg-762 miniguns and goes to work, Hurling lead out at six thousand rounds per minute with purely mechanical accuracy as it works from one SWAT team member to another. The massive 30mm cannon along it's back undocking and raising up into the firing position as Leopard begins fighting it's way towards the APCs, shrugging off smallarms and small bore explosives with ease. The truck itself, isn't just sitting there. It begins throwing out .50 cal fire towards any SWAT personel it can see, including a good ten round burst over the perimeter to throw suppressive fire after the entry team.
Eight's not just taking it easy mind you, it casually sheds it's disguise and moves into the perimeter. Tugging it's trademark beltfed shotgun from a compartment in it's chest, making a B-line towards that entry team. Finally breaking over virtually every radio station with a message, delivered in an unapologetically robotic tone. "Attention attention all nets this station, priority message incoming. Fuck your shit. Over."

*

The manipulation of probabilities is a random, fickle thing. Domino's spent most of her life with it calling the shots for her, whether she wanted it to or not. It has no instructions, it has no standard operating procedure. The single best way that she can warp the odds into her favor is to throw herself right into the worst possible scenario. As she makes her approach she might be noticed, or maybe she won't be. It's dark, there's smoke and shooting, she's geared up all in black and she's coming at them from a direction they aren't directly covering.

There's also -someone- out there that's turning this part of the city into a damn warzone. She's still approaching the bar, muttering "Fucking Christ..!" as the big guns start chattering all over the place. On the other hand, she's got herself one -hell- of a distraction. Fancy those odds! She won't even have to worry about going silently, with all of this commotion who the hell's going to notice a stupidly lucky woman in the operation?

So, Evelyn's probably hiding in the bar. That much she's figured out for herself. Where in the bar? Who the hell knows! Time is of the essence so Dom takes another roll of the proverbial dice, holding her fire as she goes to kick the back door in. She'll do this quietly as long as she can, once stealth is lost it is never regained.

*

On the roof of the building is a single access doorway, locked. The gravel surface isn't very friendly on the roof, but there is a homeless dude who is sleeping in a corner, wrapped up in a blanket in a bindlebag of things. How in the hell is he still sleeping?
Screams of anguish follows Leopard's wake. The eight-legged killing machine is a ferocious thing to behold capable of untold destruction. SWAT gets out of the way as cars are overturned, one man at least crushed beneath the weight of his own armored vehicle.
Unfortunately, the smokescreen seems to have done little. As the helicopter skims overhead, it easily blows the smoke to the side, just in time for the rotordrone to catch up and pop a couple holes into the chopper. Unfortunately, that doesn't immediately ground it. There's at least one swat member in the side of the chopper, manning the heavy armor-piercing automatic gun, and he doesn't hesitate to fire on the little drone. How the hell can he even see the thing in this light? *Kerchunka kerchunk kerchunk!* It's so inaccurate, to say the least. Smoke starts to accumulate on the rear end of the chopper.
Another chopper soon joins the first, shedding a spotlight onto Eight as he makes his way to the front of the building. With two choppers hovering above the street, the smoke is almost completely dissipated as fast as it's produced. The minigun on the bottom nose tip of the second chopper spins to life and begins its hail of bullets down on Eight.
The sound cannon, now able to see, aims its sonic blastic at Leopard and fires several ear-splitting pulses of concentrated sound. Windshields break and shatter at the sound. The other truck with the radar finish finally makes it use apparent. In addition to all the data collection and field reporting it's doing, it's _also_ capable of apparently generating electrical white noise across all frequencies. Cellphone lose signals, that guy watching porn through all that action loses his wireless signal, and perhaps fortunately, the choppers also lose their flight guidance. It's an extreme measure that cuts all communication down to a zero, even between SWAT.
Many of the soldiers focus their fire on Eight or Leopard. At least one sniper gets a pretty good shot towards Eight with the 50 cal.
Meanwhile, through all the chaos, the four man entry team slowly covers the area with their flashlights. They have nightvision goggles on, almost looking like Tom Clancy spinoffs as they secure the perimeter of the building. Fortunately for Domino, they don't seem to notice her when she bursts into the building. Oh look, a hallway that leads upstairs. It's right there.

*

The tiltrotor loses it's port engine, and immediately just jetisons all eight blades. Not that it's entirely out of the fight just yet, as it goes kamikaze and glides after the attacking helicopter directly. Fuck them, right? Leopard isn't easy to take down, even if that big gun does crater it's armor it's still in the fight. Stabbing it's pokey "feet" into the asphalt, before lowering it's chassis. It almost looks like it might be dead or damaged, until it's own sonic cannon opens up. Thats a GSH-6-30, a 30mm gatling cannon designed to destroy american main battle tanks from the air. Nobody uses them anymore because they're so violent they rip planes apart, but Leopard is built of tougher stuff. Every single window in a block and a half radius pops, the muzzle flash is bright enough to cause short term eye damage. The sound, well for many folks without earpro it's likely the last sound they'll ever hear even if they survive this. The shockwave kills men standing nearby, it shatters pavement and sends stones hurling in every direction. That mighty 30mm cannon divides two hundred round bursts at every APC in its line of fire, and with a cyclic rate of six thousand rounds per minute? Its just a roar, an utter roar of soviet mechanical fury. It'll get started on any remaining helicopters next, presuming their pilots have the nerve to stay.
That fifty knocks Eight right below where it might have a collarbone, but the Robot never so much as pauses. It just brings that bullpup 8gauge 3 1/2" magnum up, and looses a trio of rounds, sending about thirty .38 caliber balls in a surprisingly tight cone after it's attacker. It's far more interested in that entry team however, going so far as to break into a sort've casual jog. Deprived of any wireless, Muffin tin lacks sufficient standing orders to know what to do. So instead it just sits tight, and awaits further orders.

*

Radio silence… It's a gamble. The SWAT here are by far the largest force with the most to coordinate, they're effectively hamstringing themselves by going silent. Now, for a woman that happens to be working completely alone? Pure, absolute win. Four guys shouldn't be any trouble at all, though she's yet to even bump into them. Why complicate matters?

Besides, someone else is doing a bloody fine job of complicating matters for everyone else.

Stay low, move up the stairs… Muscles and joints continue to sound out in protest but she's used to ignoring aches and pains while on the job. She'll probably regret it later but later is when there'll be time for it.

"Come on, Ev," she quietly says to herself, tone muffled through the mask. "We can't stay here long."

She'll give it fifteen seconds before the first wave comes up the stairs after her. That doesn't give her long to search every room. She could call out and lose her advantage, or she could stay silent and hope for the best.

Still playing those odds. Silent she goes.

*

Radio. The call on the radio was something that stirred Clint Barton from what feels like his deathbed. Hacking parts of lung isn't fun on the best of days, and on rainy, miserable mornings before the ass crack of dawn?

Nope. Still not fun.

SHIELD. Shit got real, and now with the buzzing of SWAT, Hawkeye is being sent out. Car drives in the city suck, though if it was a clear night, it'd suck less. But, rain and headlights and windshield wipers.. all that does manage to keep the diseased agent awake. He -looks- sick as well as feels. Green around the edges, as it were.

Once he reaches the periphery of the scene, Clint simply sits in his car, staring at the lights whirring, the absolute mess that is being made of the area. A deep breath is taken, and reaching back behind the seat, he grabs his kit.. and slides out the door, a touch wobbly, but on his feet. Bearings are taken, and he's on the move to where Command and Control sit.

*

More police cruisers arrive. No tanks. You'd have to be batshit to give SWAT a tank in a city as populated as New York, and the CIA won't have it _that_ obvious that they're doing operations here. It's already pretty evident that quite a scene has been made, but it was almost anticipated to be such at a start with as many forces there are, and are coming. The men and women stomping out of armored vehicles aren't just in SWAT uniform anymore, they're in large green full-body armor suits with ballistic helmets. A few of those soldiers move with little dexterity to another vehicle, where they're preparing the bulk of a ground mounted cannon. Vicious.
It doesn't take long for Leopard to destroy and flip enough cars to completely block its line of sight to half the field. With so many cars everywhere, it's making navigation and traversal rather difficult. The sound cannon truck is absolutely obliterated, and another APC is blasted apart. Still the electronic interference broadcasts, though. It's awful.
As the rotodrone kamikazis into the chopper, it finally does enough damage to forcibly drop the damned thing from the sky. Losing control, it plows down towards the street, easily getting tangled in the power lines suspended overhead. Theatrically, they break, sending showers of sparks in their wake as they whip towards the ground. The chopper lands near Leopard, set ablaze from the crash and easily disrupting the smooth construction of the pavement.
Eight's shots aren't so effective from across the street, but via luck, manage to strike one of the snipers anyways. The other sniper takes aim for Eight again, and this time he doesn't take one shot. He fires, cocks back, and fires again. He's got at least five rounds in that clip. .50 cals hurt. The other helicopter, undeterred by the destruction of its comrade, continues opening up rounds of small fire on Eight, even as he reaches the door to the building.
As Domino ascends, she can likely hear the small sounds Evelyn makes. They're fairly horrible sounds, something mixed between sobbing, and a sick wheezing that she can't quite control between sobs. There's not much else to do when the building your in is being rocked by explosions, gun shells, and a pissed off CIA is here to take you back home. She's unarmed and not quite so in control of the situation.

*

More police cruisers arrive. No tanks. You'd have to be batshit to give SWAT a tank in a city as populated as New York, and the CIA won't have it _that_ obvious that they're doing operations here. It's already pretty evident that quite a scene has been made, but it was almost anticipated to be such at a start with as many forces there are, and are coming. The men and women stomping out of armored vehicles aren't just in SWAT uniform anymore, they're in large green full-body armor suits with ballistic helmets. A few of those soldiers move with little dexterity to another vehicle, where they're preparing the bulk of a ground mounted cannon. Vicious.
It doesn't take long for Leopard to destroy and flip enough cars to completely block its line of sight to half the field. With so many cars everywhere, it's making navigation and traversal rather difficult. The sound cannon truck is absolutely obliterated, and another APC is blasted apart. Still the electronic interference broadcasts, though. It's awful.
As the rotodrone kamikazis into the chopper, it finally does enough damage to forcibly drop the damned thing from the sky. Losing control, it plows down towards the street, easily getting tangled in the power lines suspended overhead. Theatrically, they break, sending showers of sparks in their wake as they whip towards the ground. The chopper lands near Leopard, set ablaze from the crash and easily disrupting the smooth construction of the pavement.
Eight's shots aren't so effective from across the street, but via luck, manage to strike one of the snipers anyways. The other sniper takes aim for Eight again, and this time he doesn't take one shot. He fires, cocks back, and fires again. He's got at least five rounds in that clip. .50 cals hurt. The other helicopter, undeterred by the destruction of its comrade, continues opening up rounds of small fire on Eight, even as he reaches the door to the building.
As Domino ascends, she can likely hear the small sounds Evelyn makes. They're fairly horrible sounds, something mixed between sobbing, and a sick wheezing that she can't quite control between sobs. There's not much else to do when the building your in is being rocked by explosions, gun shells, and a pissed off CIA is here to take you back home. She's unarmed and not quite so in control of the situation.

*

Leopard ceases going after the APCs, but it's got direct line of sight on Eight getting roughed up so it goes into action immediately. Swiveling that 30mm rotary canon around to track the helicopter, and get to firing. Both of those smaller 7.62 miniguns follow a moment later, firing not at the helicopter but at those snipers now. A neat series of LED lights on Leopard's head giving a quick pattern of flashes after Eight, even as it passes out of sight.
Once inside, Eight comes to a halt. Swinging that eight gauge up to it's shoulder and adopting a more conventional shooting stance, then it gets to moving. Systematically advancing, working up after that entry team, even as fresh .50 caliber sized craters in its armor still sizzle from the blow. "Evelyn stay where you are, I am coming to your location. Do not call out to me."

*

It sure is helpful that Dom's mark isn't quite so silent throughout all of this, though it's still not the easiest thing to overhear with the sound of a chopper crashing into the street just a few dozen feet away. The ground's shaking, dust is sifting down from overhead, there's more noise than from the mosh pit at a death metal concert…

It's practically home.

When someone -else- calls out Evelyn's name Dom can only assume that it's one of the people coming after her, in a bad sort of way. This means she's running out of time.

Oh look, Evelyn's sobbing uncontrollably in the room on the left!

The mask-clad merc slips inside with the bulky but short barreled SAW brought up to her shoulder, hissing "We're outta here, Rosie Robot!" No time to dwindle, grab the girl and get the hell outta Dodge!

*

It's like a scene out of a movie. Hero is walking slowly but deliberately towards C&C through the rain and fog of war. Granted, said hero isn't so much walking slow as trying really hard to keep his feet in a stagger. And as he moves forward, there are lights in the sky coming slowly towards the scene just over his shoulder.

"Who the hell is in charge here?!" is yelled by Agent Barton to those gathered. "Cease your damned firing," now why does he sound like the Director? "Stand down, or I'll show you exactly how to do it."

It doesn't help, mind, that the moment he arrives in said C&C that guns are trained upon him, challenging his identification. Clint doesn't even blink (he's too damned tired, achy..), but he does cough a good, phlegmy cough, bringing enough up to spit in a puddle in the area.

"My people are coming in as an extraction team." Glancing towards the building that is likely the spot, Hawkeye spies a particular Jaguar parked.. and exhales. Crap. Goddammit..

"If you value your Agency's funding, back off."

Famous last words, the archer turns to move towards the building, seemingly heedless of the damage that occurs around him.

*

The devastation in this scene is ridiculous. The second helicopter falls, and without any powerlines to stop it, it falls right for Leopard. There's no incredibly clear communication, but it's evident a lot of the field leadership is in the electronics van blasting the signal white noise. Guns are _absolutely_ trained on Hawkeye, but no one shoots him. It's chaos, but most soldiers are worried about trying to kill the thing that's trying to kill them. Of then <10 currently still alive.
The four in the bar light up Eight while one of the four moves to try and attach a plastic explosive to him. They'll take down this armored tank any way they can.
Upstairs, Evelyn startles a bit, holding her chest as she looks at Domino. A .. Well. A sort of friendly face. She stares, as if seeing a ghost. Domino is white enough. "Domino? .. Let's get the fuck out of here." She coughs a couple times, wiping her face as she reaches out for Domino. She'll follow the woman's lead. It's extraction time.
One of the men in the radio truck waves Hawkeye on board. After identification, he drops the white noise and blares over the radio, "Hold your fire, withdraw, withdraw!"

*

BKOOM, goes that shotgun. Throwing close to thirty roughly 38 caliber projectiles in that first shell alone, the all brass shothull ejected hard enough to get stuck in the drywall to it's side. Eight's fairly nasty up close and personal, and that belt fed shotgun is something of a meatgrinder. Going full cyclic until every guy in swat gear is mulched. Eight'll pause a second to liberate one of the entry team's carbines, and a few magazines of course."Hallway clear Evelyn, you and your escourt are clear to exit." Eight stands right there for a moment or two longer, as the famous Muffin tin slips into the bar and scuttles over to perch on Eight's shoulder.
Leopard is largely unbothered by falling helicopters, though it does expend the last of its 30mm softening the impact up. After a moment it simply shrugs off the wreckage and, freezes. Coms get kicked back on, and it immediately takes a different tack. Moving to clear the wreckage from the truck to the bar. It's dull grey armor plating smoldering in the rain, as those miniguns sizzle red hot even now.

*

Bingo! Domino's got an Evelyn. ..And no escape planned out. The battle (war) outside seems like it might be winding down but they're not alone in the building. Dom's got her SAW leveled at the doorway. Going out into the streets is suicide. Facing what's -probably- an elite tac unit, particularly in her current state of being, also doesn't sound like the smartest of options. "Yeah, let's," the masked albino says with only a small amount of hesitation.

Wait. 'Escort?' She blinks once then slowly looks back to Evelyn. It's a much more tame label than what she's used to hearing. (Suddenly I feel over-dressed.)

There's another chopper out there. -Close.- Hovering..? It takes her but a moment to glance up out the nearest window, suddenly unsure if she'd be better off swearing in relief or swearing more firmly in dismay. That's a SHIELD bird up there.

There's two ways out of this. She can tackle the SWAT but she -knows- someone in SHIELD. Time to take another roll of the ol' dice.

"If you're coming with me, we're going to the roof. Right now." (Unless you'd rather stay and hang out with your weaponized mechanical brothers outside.)

*

That walk turns to something of a faster, staggered jog. Particularly when he catches the sight of the helo coming in to hover just over the top of the building. Hawkeye has a transponder on him, transmitting all the while to his compatriots in the sky. As the black bird whirrrs above, a line comes down from one of the open bay doors, at the end of it, a hook.

The moment it's down, he grabs hold of it and wraps it about himself, pulling on the line to let them know that they can bring him up.

When the girls come aboard, they'll see a familiar face.

*

Evelyn stands with Domino's help. You've gained an Evelyn! The last few swat members drop. The entire force has nearly been completely wiped out. Burning wreckage litters the block, and at least one drone has been lost. What a sad situation, but it raises one very important question: "Why Evelyn?" And why did the CIA give up so easily after Barton showed his ID? Stopping at the stairs, Evelyn yells down, "Eight, I don't know how to thank you. Thank you so much." And then she's off with Domino, following after her with a whicked bad wheeze and a few coughs. Stopping at the door to the roof, she kicks open the door just in time for Hawkeye to see Domino and Evelyn, and likewise.

*

Wait. She -knew- the 'elite' unit that was in the building with them..? -And- SWAT appear to all be cut down. Which means..that..Domino could probably have just walked right on out of here, no problem. And now she's being pulled into the belly of a SHIELD chopper.

"All debts are now paid in full," she says in a dark tone to Evelyn.

(God, this is going to suck.)


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