Generating a Spark

May 16, 2014: Not even lying in the morgue within the SHIELD Triskelion can keep Domino safe from Cable's telepathic reach. (Language warning.)

SHIELD Triskelion

Morgues are cold and boring. Dom decides to think of one of her safehouses, instead.



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Mood Music:


Darkness all around.

To feel for a mind and -not- have it be -right-? To have it not hold that familiar vibrancy, that pulse of -life- that only comes with one who dances on the edge as matter of course?

There's a prod, a push to dig deep for that spark of life; to hang on to that bit of soul that hasn't yet escaped the mortal coil that is Neena Thurman. Domino.

There, the search by one Nathan Summers becomes a little more insistant to hide the growing panic that wells in his own soul.. deep in the pit of his stomach. She's not gone. Can't be beyond him. Not him.

Not her.

And there… deep within, buried under that foreign mass that fights for supremacy in her physical form, Nate finds that which he searchs for. What he finds himself praying for, even though he's given up on a 'God' many lifetimes ago.


Darkness is familiar territory within Domino's psyche. She keeps it a very dark, very empty place for her own reasons. Alive or 'dead' doesn't seem to change the decor any, only the vibrancy of its lone occupant.

The drugs that SHIELD had concocted helped somewhat, sure. But, she had been left to fight it off on her own for too long. Luck had gotten her this far. Sometimes even good fortune needs a boost.

A boost like a telepathic kick from Cable.

The first spark isn't one of relief so much as a thought of things having not turned out the way they were supposed to have. One step too far. Pushed just a little..too..far…

"Jesus. Am I a puffball shroom yet? Wait, this isn't right…"


"Nate..? -Nate?- What the hell are you doing h-… Oh. Shit really went south this time, didn't it."


There can be no lies in a telepathic link; it is a moment of pure honesty. Emotions, thoughts that are passed… which is why it's impossible to lie to a telepath. Ever. They always know.

There is no immediate response from Nate, though he's nowhere near idle in that head of hers. Perhaps she can see 'her past' flashing before her eyes, or rather, on the back of her optic nerves as Nate tries to figure out exactly what the hell is going on and what he's missed.

"That's an understatement, Neena," comes softly in her head. There's almost a 'catch' in his 'voice', a gentleness that perhaps she's not truly seen or felt? The next words come hesitatingly, picking his way through a minefield, "You're in the morgue. Vitals are almost flatlined. Right now," and there's a moment where his messaging pauses before, "I'm keeping you alive, and have started pushing back the virus. I can't keep it up at this distance, though. I need you to get to me."


For as much as Domino likes her empty void to retreat back into, this is a little different. She's never been a fan of telepathy, she can't -stand- having other people inside of her head. This is nothing new, Cable knows it because he can read her thoughts and because she's told him flat-out on numerous occasions. But, one cannot escape who and what they are. Nate, her significant a telepath.

This is why she's gotten into the habit of giving their environment a 'physical' manifestation, when she can be bothered to do so. Middle of the battlefield, not so much. Lying in the morgue? Plenty of free time!

She's back in the run-down warehouse off of the New York harbor, the desolate and decrepit exterior concealing a clean and organized interior, complete with a sixty-nine black Stingray convertible and enough firepower to arm a third world military, and the forces they would be going up against. The familiarity, the near-obsessive level of organization, gives her a feeling of having some amount of control in a situation where she would otherwise have none at all.

"Seems to be a talent of yours," the much smaller albino remarks with a thin smirk. Both keeping her alive and fighting to resist the progression of a virus. "Yeah, so..welcome to the Triskelion. Not exactly where I had anticipated ending up," she says in a flat tone while gently leaning back against the front fender of the classic car. Then, looking up and over to seek out the familiar sight of the white-haired mutant, she breaks the usual trend of bitching at the man for invading her thoughts.

"Good to see you again, Nate."


"I do what I know best," comes the reply from the back of the car. Nate steps forward, a manifestation in her mind, and his expression is echoing that which he truly wears. Concern, if not a little bit of annoyance, knowing now -how- she got the disease. "You went back for someone. Domino, what the hell?" Did he know it was there and she sort of just fell into it?

Not telling!

Still, Nate exhales in a sigh, and he comes close to her for a moment before a smile flickers. "Good to see you too. I'll be happier when you're right in front of me, but this'll do for now." And, it actually does make it a little easier to do his job, but not by much.

"Now," and here, Nate breaks away and starts to pace before settling on the front, passenger side of the hood. "I need to bring you up slowly.. and thankfully, that's all I -can- do right now. I'll have to leave you for a couple of minutes to find a way out of that place, but it's not going to be easy for you. You're going to feel the virus progress again. Don't panic, though. It'll only be a couple of minutes before I'm back and pushing it away so you can actually function."


With the accusation Dom ducks her head and holds her hands out to the sides, letting them drop back down to the fender with a drawn-out sigh of her own. "Let's not start picking at the blatant attack of conscience on my part and focus on where we go from here, alright?"

Somehow having Nate coming to rest beside her gives her more strength from confidence, even if he's only beside her in a mental link. Even that is something they hadn't shared until a moment ago. "One step at a time, Wingnut. If you can bring me back then I can find a way out of that UN hole." Pause. "I really don't want to be a goddamn fungus, Nate."

So help her get through this..? Please?

There are no lies with another mind in one's head. She doesn't even try to hide that she's glancing to Nate's arm, right where she had drilled out a sample of the T-O virus not that long ago. She's not going to apologize, though he will feel the sense of regret.

"Got too much left to do to take root in a dark corner shitting spores all over myself."

Like spend more time with the mutant mentally sitting beside her.


Cable chuckles, the sound quiet in her skull. "Hadn't counted on that." Damn consciences. "Never had one before," is added gently.

Though now, Nate offers a sidelong glace as the pair settle in in her makeshift mental world. "If I key you up all the way, they'll see it. It's going to be hard enough on you when you're first up, and if you have to deal with security on top of that?" Still, he does relent, and there is the chance that perhaps she'll begin to feel the beginnings of pins and needles in her extremities. When blood flow begins to 'asleep' parts, the nerves make it known.

"I can actually do something about this.. you won't be a fungus. I swear, Neena." Yes.. him 'doing something' is very much like what he does for himself. What he has to do constantly for himself. "Now, let me check on your exits."


"It's a real drag," Domino replies with another insignificant smirk. "Don't ask me what I was thinking at the time." Because she doesn't really know, herself.

With that out of the way and the matter at hand becoming the point of discussion her confidence starts to grow anew. "I've taken on worse. Give me a clear shot and I'll find my own way."

That Nate is also confident is reassuring, as well. Even so, Dom has a pretty good idea that his way of 'fixing' the issue is going to royally suck for her. But, just like she said. She's taken on worse. "Yeah, I'll just here," she lamely replies while glancing down and to the side, already reaching around to rub at a bicep as the sensation starts to return.

"Not gonna say I owe you one for this, Nate." (But I will get that T-O sample back if you do.)


"Don't let it happen again," Nate teases, and in the next second, his -presence- is gone. He's disappeared from beside her, leaving her alone with her car and weapons. She has her firepower, her fast car, and where he had been, a single round.

Nate has a hand in her systems, keeping things from advancing quickly, but with what he's got to do, that's all he can do. (Once he 'gets back', he'll pause it.. really!) But, it's a long minute or so, even for him. Leaving her side now that he's got her up and talking, and coming back up to core temperature (she'll be getting the chills VERY soon..), he doesn't want to leave. At least he still has her eyes 'turned off'. Here's hoping she's not claustrophobic.

With a *bloop* of a computer response to input, in the dark, a large drawer unlocks with a *click* and slides open just a little, passing the latch.

"There are only 2 techs working late. Two offices down.. according to power usage."


To be perfectly honest with herself (yeeees, and the telepath…) Dom doesn't want him to leave. Regardless, they both have work to do. When he disappears and leaves his little 'love letter' behind she smirks once more, slowly reaching over to take that one extra bullet between her fingertips. "Cute, Nate."

Reality always has peculiar ways of manifesting itself within one's thoughts. As the chill begins to creep through she can 'see' her 'breaths' misting in front of herself. The grimy warehouse windows start to frost over, millions of intricate ice particles stretching outward into impossibly complex shapes around the dirt. The pale yellow lights overhead take on a frosted blue tone. Cold. Downright arctic.

"I really fucking hate dying," she mutters with another gentle sigh.

As that pale blue glow starts to fade to black she casts her head back and her eyes skyward. "Alright, Nate. Let's get this over with."

The silence is deafening. The air is frigid. Then, without any hint of warning, the light overhead is -blinding- as blood-shot pale blue eyes snap wide open.

(Sonuva-bitch-… Welcome back to reality, Dom.)

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