Ten Tons of Trucking Trouble

June 05, 2014: A stolen semi becomes a mobile battleground. Briefly. (Language warning.)

New York City

Somewhere, on the darkened city streets…



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Mood Music:

Music blasts from the audio system of an 18-wheeled semi-truck, barreling down the freeway to New York at ninety. It's dark, night, probably around 11PM, and there are relatively few cars to get in the truck's way. A head-unit is jammed and hastily wired up to provide the kicking tunes. Cracks span out like webs from the passenger window, two bullet holes and a blood splatter against the glass. A shotgun and an uzi sit in the passenger seat, carefully buckled in.
"I gotta get me some food," Comes a gravely voice, the driver. "Shit, what I wouldn't do for some chinese. Wait. No, chinese? Mexican. Ohhhh yes." The man mutters to himself, glancing at the billboards as he cruises. A red and black jumpsuit, belt, bandolier of bullets, and several grenades. Two holsters cross across his back, handles facing upwards. To top it off, this rude dude is sporting a plaid trucker cap.
Who else could it be? Deadpool is driving this truck, a semi of black market weapons, military contract munitions supplied and paid for by the good ol' American Government. Course, they don't know that yet. The truck _never quite made it_ to them before Deadpool was on it like white on rice. He hijacked it not five hours ago, and perhaps the most impressive thing is that he hasn't wrecked it in the five hours he's been driving.


The nascent system that the SRD is putting in is, for the moment, confined to red-light cameras. But that doesn't mean that there aren't other surveillance options open to the different agencies. For tracking a stolen truck, the local police have stepped aside for the state constabulary, considering the payload, which in turn, yes.. notified the SRD. The cameras are up and running in preparation for the truck… because who knows -who- took the truck?

Now back in the City, no longer 'enjoying' their vacation, Nate and Domino have been bringing up some of the pics that the intersection cameras have been clicking through. It's took long enough, but finally the large mutant's been able to tap into at least one of the sections, and the questions are growing and compounding.

"Okay…" In a small apartment, basement level, Nate's got a reasonably good, workable 'office'. "Dom.. why would they want—"

Heh.. and on the news feeds on one of the many monitors, a helo flies overhead, hitting video of the truck barreling down the interstate, almost crossing into New York City territory. For some reason, -this- catches Nate's attention, and the question dies before it's ever finished.


Why would they..? Domino leans forward and points to one of the monitors running through so much data. It's not related to the news feeds, this one's displaying intel from ..other sources. "Probably because it's full of weapons. Just a hunch."

Catching actual video footage from the news chopper changes things once more. "I know that intersection. Can run interference in four minutes."

Already acting as a woman on a mission she steps away from the screens and turns her attention on their armory, smaller at this location but still offering a variety of toys and tricks. "Think it's time we gave those new jammerslugs a field test," she suggests while pulling out a stubby assault rifle. The action is checked then she picks through boxes of hand-loaded specialty rounds. Fifty caliber Beowulf, big stuff designed to fit within the Armalite magazine wells. More limited capacity, much bigger projectile.

"Am I going wheels or are we bodysliding this one, Cable? Be easy to catch the roof with a zipwire."



The anti-hero in red and black pajamas hums to himself while he drives, "Deadypool. Deadypool. Does whatever he's paid to do. Shoots his guns. All the time." The radio is turned down as a chime rings out from a mobile, with a ringtone of him singing the song he was just singing. Reaching into the cupholder, he flips it open while keeping one hand on the wheel. Safety first. "Hello?"
The truck turns to get off the freeway, though it doesn't really decrease in speed at all. The top end sort of tilts and the semi rolls on the offramp with only half of its wheels on the ground. As it pulls into mainstream roads and traffic, there's the telltale sound of squealing tires as cars stop to avoid being hit by the truck. At the last moment, DP jerks the wheel and the truck falls on all its wheels again and they're cruising once more.


"That'd be a pretty damned good hunch," Cable agrees readily. He spins his chair around to check the data dump that his partner in crime (which is more accurate than not!) is referencing and nods. "They never did disarm units after the Superbowl, so having this shipment heisted…" is certainly a blow.

Pushing his chair back, the wheelie seat rolls a few feet before crashing into a table that holds the remnants of dinners past. Nate holds his hand out for one of the guns that Domino's got pulled out, and her answer is an easy one. Answered in 3 words…

"Bodyslide by two."

The moment the words are uttered, the pair are transported from the little downstairs apartment to a rather windy spot on the top of a tractor trailer doing a pretty respectable speed. It's flanked by the helo, yes.. and just out in the distance in one direction, he can see flashing lights. In the other, the bridge leading onto the island. Crouching immediately after teleporting, Nate holds a hand out for Domino so she can get her footing.

It's a good thing too, that he does, as the driver begins to maneuver the truck exactly in a fashion it's not truly meant to be driven. It's no mean feat to pop wheels on a semi.. and.. "What the hell?"


"That's why you keep me around," Domino replies while also rigging herself out with a set of magnetic padded boots and gauntlets. Just so she doesn't become road pizza. Seriously, is the guy driving that truck on Speed or something? Greasy side down!

With Nate on his feet (and his chair likely partially embedded into the table by now) she tosses a longarm his way, ready to rock. "Time for another Kodak moment."

The instant the pair appears on the roof of the trailer the albino's going to work, dropping into a low crouch with those boots, and soon after one palm, dropping down onto the trailer to effectively stick her into place. Heaven help her if the semi ever does a lateral roll and she can't disconnect herself in time…

Braced, as well as she can manage with the crazy driving, her own truncated rifle snaps up at arm's length and a single shot slams out of the receiver, neatly pegging the nearest news chopper in the fuselage.


That live news feed is suddenly lacking audio and video. The two mutants that teleported in, and the assault they're about to carry out, is no longer in threat of winding up on the evening news. At least not until another chopper comes around and tries to get footage before it, too, gets shot.

With a quick motion of her arms the rifle falls diagonally across her back, quickly crawling across the trailer as she tries to reach the cab, itself. Whether landing on the hood or going through the passenger door, she's aiming to get inside to deal with the driver.

Why disable the rig when they can take it for themselves?


The engine roars as it shifts into ninth, the manual gearbox grinding as it struggles to keep up with its crazy driver. As the heli sweeps around, Deadpool looks up at it, "Well, look at that. I have a fan." Now it's only too bad he doesn't have a bazooka /on him/. Sure, one's in the back of the truck, but that's not going to help anybody. Really. The phone is still in Deadpool's hand, and into it he says, "Eat it." Wonder who that could be. Snap! The phone is hung up and DP throws it into the side seat. Shift into tenth, accelerate.
Kerclunk. The sound of magnetic boots on the roof of a truck cabin isn't exactly a quiet sound. Looking up, Deadpool reaches over to grab his shotgun. Clicking off the safety, he aims upwards. Carefully.. Carefully —. *Blam! Blam! Blam blam blam!* Five shells against the roof make a pretty skylight. It's also about this time that he fumbles for the steering wheel in an effort to divert the semi from hitting a car crossing into an intersection, "Don't — Don't! Don't!" Assuming no one shoots him in the head, he might actually be able to avoid it.


While Domino is doing a physical check of the cab's driver's identity, Cable cheats and does it in his own special way. A touch on the brain, and blue eye widens… and the name revealed is done in something that sounds like a curse.


Now, Nate's not sure which to do- move forward to the cab, or check out the contents inside the trailer. The shot that comes through the top of the cab, however, pretty much seals the deal, making his decision for him.

"We have to take him out, Dom.. take the shot. Take it."

Hello, Wade, how's things? Nate isn't feeling too badly about the decision; not with the cars coming through and the fact that the truck is going to start passing through those redlight cameras. It's not the best reunion the three have had, but it's also probably not the worst either. (He counts being shot in the back of the head a little further down on the list, frankly..)


Most truck drivers do not have semi-automatic shotguns riding ..well, shotgun, with them. It's impossible to hear the sound of a safety being disengaged but with the first shot fired Domino grunts and throws herself into a diagonal flip off of the roof, dropping hard onto a shoulder right on the hood. One palm slaps down for grip, legs shifting out toward the sides for extra stability.

Then there's a ghostly pale face snapping upward, almost magically appearing behind the sights of a .40 caliber Sig 226. The image is distorted around the cracks and bulletholes, though the sudden widening of eyes can still be noticed.

Oh, and there's a black patch around the left one, too.

"-Deadpool?!-" (Oh fuck. Oh -Fuck.- Nate, it's Wilson. He's driving. Do I take the shot? I'm gonna take the shot.)


Hell, it's Deadpool. It'll probably take more than one to put him down. For a while. He always bounces back, after all.


Well, things were going pretty gravy, until two old pals came to steal my weapons. What's your excuse. Dropping the shotgun, he struggles with the wheel as the albino lands on the hood of his semi. "Babycak-!" One hole, two hole, three, four! Several bullet holes! Several! The speeding truck hits the front of the car at the intersection mid turn, and jackknifes. First it goes through a traffic light, just knocking the post out of the way like a toy before the front of the trunk rams right into a concrete pillar.

While Wade's weapons have a seatbelt on, he does not. The sudden stop sends him through the glass window of a nearby cafe, punctuating his crash with the sound of a few broken bones and a bunch of glass in his body.

".. Nhughh.. Ow.." He sputters, just laying there for a few minutes. The engine of the semi cuts off, a plume of steam seeping otherwords. Antifreeze and other liquids pour out from under the engine compartment.


Either Domino takes the shot and the truck does something, or she doesn't and the result is likely the same. Either way, it's a mess. The shots hit their target, and the truck careens even -more- out of control than it was, knocking cars, pedestrians and lightpoles out of the way like so much paper. It's when the truck comes to rest on the concrete pole that it finally meets its match.

It's not an easy thing to ride out, and without the magnetics that Domino has, it's virtually impossible. Nate -didn't- get a spot to hold onto, and as the truck began its imitation of a pinball machine's pinball, he's thrown free of what will be the wreckage, slamming against the wall of a building, and through it.

Wade has his quick healing, and Nate has his 'ZOMG, built like a shit brickhouse'. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell, however.. and some of the -safe- onlookers do a double if not a triple take to see the large mutant actually rising from his spot ('Looming', they'd describe it) and pushing his way back out into the street, blue eyes searching…


Nothing ever goes according to plan as soon as the Mouthy Merc is brought into play. Domino's all too eager to blast the 'babycakes' out of Wilson, though before Cable has a chance to grab the speeding truck's controls with his telekinesis-


When the truck rams bumper-first into solid concrete the albino woman hangs on as best she can. Magnets work great against being pried off directly. Being -slid,- however… There's now several lovely pinstripes gouged out of the paint as she gets jolted closer to the mangled front bumper, even some from her sidearm to try and help slow herself down, right as Wade goes flying out through the window and sails clear over her shoulders.

In another moment she finds herself very nearly arrested by a concrete slab striking her in a place most unpleasant.

"Sonuvabitch…" she groans while slowly peeling herself off of the much wrinkled hood. "Total loss. So much for securing these for ourselves."

(God, what a way to end a vacation.)

Moving stiffly she drops back onto her feet, taking the pistol in a two-handed grasp as she trains it on the storefront Deadpool had gone flying through a moment ago. What's a few more cuts and bruises to the ol' face, right? "What's our move, Nate? I don't think you have enough juice to levitate the trailer somewhere safe."


Not only does Wade has his healing factor, but pain just doesn't phase him as much as it should. Sitting up, he brushes a few shards of glass off and stands up, demangling himself from the table and chairs he flew into. He's not exactly the stealthy type, but when you look to where he /should/ be, and Wade's not there. You can be sure you have one hell of a problem.

Just around the corner, the doors to the cafe open up, not even a few metres from Cable. From them, out steps Deadpool with a couple of pistols in his hands. Lifting them up in a shrug, Deadpool looks over to Cable, "If it isn't motherfucking Cyber Jesus!" Regarding the hole in the wall, Wade says, "You know, it's rude not to use the door." Laughing, he lowers the guns, "It'd be -great- if you could help me with these guns. I hit something."


… and it lands upon the one form and figure that is a little more important than the other. Yes, Domino not Wade. (Sorry, Wade. Not my type.) Cable, too, is looking a little worse for wear, what with brick dust making his shock of white hair a touch greyer laced with red clay. Clothes are a touch ripped, but he's not worried overmuch about it.

"Trailer," Nate barks back, "Grab what you can." He trusts her to take the best, coupled with the consideration of 'us having it is much preferred over you having it'. "We leave in 1 minute."

Now, the clock is ticking, and Nate knows he hasn't given her near enough time. But, she's good.. and he's got something else to deal with.


"Deadpool!" At least Nate's nice enough to use a codename. "What the -hell- are you doing?"

45 seconds…


'Grab what you can, one minute.' Domino cants her head to one side with a wince before letting her weapon hang, abandoning her guard. "We'll play next time, Wade." A firesale isn't exactly what she had been wanting to do here but it's better than nothing. That the trailer is locked in back is no problem, she's still got eight rounds in her pistol.


She's still got seven rounds in her pistol.

The door gets muscled open with a slight grunt right about when Cable yells out the third merc's name. It's Deadpool she yells back to, however. "I think you hit -all- the things!" She's listening for more gunfire, though truth is they'd -both- survive it. And she can't effectively carry -either- of them to safety. Well..possibly Wade, but why would she do a thing like that?

Pistol's holstered, freeing up both hands to make a mad grab for whatever she can lay her hands on. At about the thirty-seven second mark she drops a hand down on something of particular interest.

An SRD Whump Gun.

"Maybe it's not a total loss," she offers while grabbing the concussive air carbine from its crate. "I think we just got a little visit from Lady Luck."


There are all _sorts_ of goodies in that truck that Wade stole. Not just an SRD Whump gun, but at the back is a crate of wood, it sits in the further part of the semi. Almost the height of the trailer, the cover's been cracked and the box leans on the wall at an angle. Packing peanuts have spilled onto the floor, and no, the packing peanuts are not the weapon. Inside is an exo-skeletal suit. Lacking a powersource, it's a prototype of -something-.

Fortunately, there's no way anyone would be able to carry that thing away from here. Aside from that, there are -boxes- and crates full of ammunition and weapons. Explosives in foam containers. C4. Thermoplast. Cases of belt-fed ammunition. A full on vehicle-mounted chaingun. There's no way Wade could even use half of this stuff.

Seriously, Wade replies. "They pay me. I do things. I'd shoot a baby if they'd pay me enough. Not just that but… I'm moving to New York!" Jazz hands! With pistols! Lowering the pistols again, Deadpool clears his throat, "Hadda make a living."

Walking away from Cable, Deadpool approaches the truck. He'll be taking some of that gear for his own stockpile. "Anything good in there, Dom-in-oh? I think she'll still run with a little elbow grease!"


"Thirty seconds," and Nate, too, is on the move. He's got the link with Domino, and he can see inside that trailer as well as she can… and he's intrigued. "On my way."

And there's nothing quite like a 6'9" brick-house mutant on the run and leaping into a can-openered trailer. Something Deadpool says, however, causes his head to poke out the back, the shock of white hair obvious. "Moving. To. New York?" Great. Just..

"Fifteen seconds!"


Blink. -Exoskeleton.- "Oh holy shit," Dom says in a bit of awe as she stares at the mechanized device. "Nate, you're gonna want to see this. Make a little extra time if you have to, we've got something big to move." With someone like Cable on hand? They are -so- not leaving this piece of hardware behind!

Military-grade explosives: Check. Military-grade munitions: Check. Military-grade - Hell-ooo, what have we here! "That's a goddamn Lynx… Guys, this truck is fucking -loaded.-" Pause. "How'd you know about this, Deadpool?" she inquires while grabbing what amounts to a fifty caliber personal defense weapon.

And now he's talking about moving back to New York. (Great, there goes what's left of the neighborhood. The sad thing is that now we might need the guy to get to the bottom of this.)

"Plenty of good pickings in the shooty-explodey stuff. Still haven't found your dignity," she calls back in a bland tone to Wade. As for the truck? "It's time to let the ol' girl go, Wade. She's in a better place."

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