Domino Effect

July 28 2014: Domino makes an attempt on Jericho Trent's life.

New York City street

A mostly empty street at 6 am with a view of Lady Liberty and a running path



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Mood Music:
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Jericho is really, really good about not having patterns. Well, many of them, anyway. He takes different routes to and from 'work' which is itself usually in a different place every few nights. He doesn't leave an internet footprint. In short, he's a hard man to track. Because people are trying to kill him.

That said, there are things that he does that do tend to be similar. One of them is staying in shape. Today he's running along the coast, with a nice view of Lady Liberty to keep him company as he thinks. Running time for Jericho is thinking time because things don't usually interrupt him here. Of course, he's monitoring the traffic and CCTV cams for a couple blocks in every direction, but that's just kind of what he does. He's not at the moment worried any more than he normally is. Finding him at this early morning hour (okay, 6 am is actually fairly late for him but there you go) in this random place would be nothing short of sheer luck.


It's perhaps because of these highly random patterns that the folks that want Jericho eliminated have decided to choose a little more carefully in where they're outsourcing the hit to. In the mercenary world one lives and dies by their reputation. Maybe this job isn't as dangerous as some of the others but it's still proof that enough money can buy a person anything in the world.

Including luck.

Domino had been warned not to trust anything electronic when handling this mark. It's a peculiar mix of 'keep your distance' and 'don't let him out of your sight.' Her armor will help out in dealing with security cameras, having a passive nullification field of sorts.

Catching him out along the shore is about as ideal as she could hope for, though it also limits her plans for engagement slightly. She had no means of prepping the location so there's no hidden tricks or traps. She needed to pack light and keep herself highly mobile, which results in further gear restrictions. What she's left with is a sporty matte black motorcycle, her usual assortment of pistols and a suppressed automatic PDW, and her sniping option, which is nothing more than a very compact single shot short barreled pistol. Rifle. ..Thing..

From the side of a building roughly a hundred meters out she sits upon the bike, the engine ticking as takes its moment to cool as she flips out the small weapon's stock and lines up her shot. 5.56, subsonic. Not a heavy hitter but very difficult to track. Even a wounding shot will do, then she can close the gap and finish the job.

"And they say jogging's good for your health," she comments with a thin smirk.



The jerk of her target tells her she's scored a hit. Jericho's been under fire before. One does not get into SOAR by being a chump and one does not survive having spent a third of one's life in combat without having some good reflexes. Hit on the right side, possibly in the shoulder or chest, though it's hard to tell because the first thing Domino's target does is seek cover.

Jeri is not at all sure exactly where the shot came from, though he has a few ideas as he hunkers down behind a boxy little BMW. Damn it. How did they locate him this time? And how many are there? Shot like that, subsonic in terrain like this can't have come from a sniper rifle. So whomever it is isn't too far off… but where?


That question is one which is easily answered. The contract had specified -dead,- with proof. Wounded is all fine and good but Dom's got to finish the job if she wants to see a dime of this payout. Not bothering to reload she throws the spent weapon across her back and hits the ignition on her bike, a single high-pitched whine sounding out like an angry metal hornet before she launches herself toward Jericho. There's no reason to be fancy, and every reason in the world for her to be quick.

A gear is chosen then she swipes the PDW from a thigh, little more than a bulky nine millimeter that will chew through thirty rounds in record time. Drive-by kills might seem like the move of an amateur but, given the circumstances…

Any kill is a good kill with this dance.

It won't be long before that BMW will start getting riddled with bullets, the lone albino planning to either flush out her mark or rip him full of holes if she can cover the distance without something interfering along the way.


Jericho hears the roar of the two stroke engine. The bullet seems to have clipped his lung and second rib just below the shoulder joint. At least it hasn't collapsed the lung. Yet. Anyway. His right arm though, isn't doing so well. And while he does have a sidearm - he's very, very rarely unarmed - the weight of fire coming down on his cover means that he's not going to get a chance to use it without exposing himself to a lot of fire. And it's not like he's wearing body armor, unfortunately. However… there is that roll of pennies he keeps in his pocket for just this kind of occasion.

As fire skips off his cover, the angle getting uncomfortably close, Jericho rips the roll open and dumps the coins into his hand. At the same time his traces flush amber and a pair of bright feathered wings made of light spring from his shoulders. Chancing a glance over the trunk of the car, he flips the coins into the air… and then slaps them with a wing capable of propelling him at 200+ miles an hour in his assailants direction.


One ruined BMW, its alarm having both sounded then gotten pulverized into oblivion. One empty MP9, the straight polymer mag already dropping out to clatter upon the concrete. Oneā€¦ okay, Domino could -swear- she just caught Lincoln's stunned face flying past her eye…

The zinc hailstorm sounds downright musical as so many of the tiny discs strike the side of the bike at speed, and the rider sitting on top of it. That blackened skin is rated against bullets, knives, tasers, batons, unarmed strikes…

No one ever thought to have it rated against pennies.

Trying to keep control of a speeding bike with one hand is difficult enough without being bombarded and with having the front tire getting pulverized, the Suzuki suddenly twisting from side to side before the rider has just enough sense to twist the handles in a way that throws her off of her perch without having the vehicle coming down on top of her. It's a long slide and roll before she comes to an abrupt stop against the side of another parked car, the bike cartwheeling clear over its hood.

(..Sitrep: Ride out of here ruined. Primary optics shattered. Secondary dry. Shaken, not stirred. Something in side of neck.)

Jaw clenched she reaches up and yanks a bloodied penny out of her suit's collar, staring at it for a second before throwing it aside. "That's a federal offense, you jerk!"


"Add it to the list!" Jericho snaps back as he sweeps out his 1911 and emerges from cover, firing in the direction of the voice. Kill shot would be nice but really all he wants right now is to traverse the street toward the parked cars and alley on his left. He can't be sure she's operating solo, and in fact his experience says that odds are she isn't. Breaking contact would be really nice at this point.

The wings stay out, one folding in front of him like a riot shield as he moves. He's already been shot once today. He'd rather not add to that if at all possible.


(Aaand he's got a gun. That'll mess up the spread slightly.)

It also poses a slight problem for Domino, she may have had a car to stop her momentum but it isn't positioned to offer the best of cover. Not where she's sitting. One of his shots clips her forearm, lancing off of a throwing knife strapped into place with a solid *Pang!* While the empty PDW isn't dropped it's going to be harder to shoot for a while, having sufficiently rattled her nerves.

But, what the hell. They're already going loud, here!

Scrambling behind cover is the first order of business, the merc hissing as she drops onto her side and squeezes another coin out far enough that she can pluck it free of her bicep with her teeth and spit it off to the side. "I can already tell you're gonna be a riot!"

1911. That's eight..nine shots if fully topped off and fed from competition mags. She can wait that storm out before coming up around the top of the car with a ten millimeter sidearm that looks like it belongs in a Mad Max flick, the darned thing's fitted with a compensator and a spiked knuckle guard.

"Do me a solid and die this time, I haven't had breakfast yet!"



Jericho is only most of the way across the street when Domino pops back out of cover and starts shooting again. Persistent little witch, isn't she? Two shots ping off his wing, a third goes right through his bicep as he vaults over a car's hood and rolls to the ground. The hacker hisses in pain and reaches out to the nearest car with the OneStar remote system. Looks like it's about a block down. Closer would be nice, but that'll do.

Okay, right shoulder bleeding, left bicep through and through. That'll make shooting a bit harder. Fortunately there's a couple of recycling bins not too far. Just got to knock them over…


The thing about taking on contracts is that the sources are almost -always- questionable. Likewise, they almost -always- leave out what many would consider to be fairly critical intel. Domino has no idea what manner of tricks this guy still has up his sleeve, dropping back behind cover as she reloads the large bore pistol with completely automatic motions.

No sooner than when the slide slams home she can hear the sirens. Close. They made good time, though they tend to when heavy shooting is involved. He may need to get to the recycle bins but she needs to start thinking of an exit strategy. Shooting more will bring the heat right on top of her. Rather than resume the fight she finds a nearby car that isn't too badly trashed and shatters a window with the spiked pistol guard, tossing herself inside then getting to work hotwiring it.

If things work out as she's anticipating she'll have one more shot at this guy, and by 'shot' she's thinking 'vehicular manslaughter.'


Jericho is low crawling as best he can with a shot shoulder and shot bicep. The bins aren't too far away though so he gets them tipped over in pretty short order. Now he just has to get down the alley. If he needs a shrapnel storm of recyclables to cover his exit, that's just a wing beat away. There's the other option of course but he'd rather not wolf out in the middle of the city if he can avoid it.

A block away a Cadillac Escalade starts itself and pulls out onto the mostly empty street, accelerating up the block. Vehicular manslaughter is also on Jericho's mind. He's not in a very happy place right now.


(One Chevy Monte Carlo with half a tank: Check.)

The screeching of tires somewhere back there could be an arriving squad car, or someone else fleeing the scene. Or a patch-eyed albino hell-bent on completing her contract. The car's not nearly as loud as the bike had been but it's not exactly subtle, Domino puts her foot down as she tries to gauge the amount of clearance she'll have when tackling the upcoming alley.

It's going to be close. On the other hand, this year's bodystyle is -just- a bit more narrow than the Crown Vics the police use in volume. So, go ahead. Let them try to follow her. She knows her odds.

(1 in 218.)

"Comin' atcha, kiddo!"

Both mirrors are neatly clipped as the Chevy barrels down the narrowed path, safety glass instantly growing giant fractures throughout with a few handfuls of sparks thrown from the wheel arches for good measure.


The car is on Jericho too fast to react even with his wings. So he does the next best thing: "WOLF OUT!"

The amber light and wings wink out and Jeri's traces flush blue a fraction of a second before a large vaguely lupine construct springs into being around him… just in time for him to get hit by the car.

The impact sends him flying a down to the end of the alley and into one of those little Fiat Mini Cooper knock offs. Ow. The power fields saved him cracked ribs and a shattered spine, but he can already feel the feedback burns and bruises on his chest and arms. Slowly, painfully he picks himself up.

And then the Escalade pulls up to the alley and seals it off.


What in the flipping -Hell-..?! Did he just..!? But he's over the roof now so she got her hit, but—

(Oh, -shit.-)

This time the screeching is definitely coming from a panic stop, the white Monte Carlo getting rattled back and forth by the confines of the alley before slamming into the side of the awaiting Cadillac. If it wasn't such a massive vehicle Dom may well have rolled it at the speed she had picked up back there. At least the airbag worked as intended, though they are kinda designed for use in conjunction with seatbelts.


Peeling herself away from the wheel reveals another patch of blood on her forehead, her eyelids at half mast as she looks forward then glances back to the mirror.

Flashing lights at the other end. They're closing in on the two.

Armored boots slowly come around then strike the inside of the splintered windshield, giving the woman an escape route to crawl out of. She's looking a bit ragged, though that spiked pistol now has an identical mate filling her other hand.

"That all you got?! I'm just getting warmed up!"


Jericho is stronger with the wolf field engaged. A lot stronger. Not superman strong or ironman strong nor even bench press 20 tons strong. But the Fait 500 he just crashed into? That thing only weighs 1100 pounds.

"Sorry about your ride," The hacker snarls as he hefts the car and eyes Domino with a glare that's about as full of hate as anything anyone has ever seen from him. Too bad she has no basis for comparison.

"Let me replace it for you." And with that he chucks the car right at her, hopefully before he finds out of he needs to be worried about those guns.


(And THAT's a CAR.)

It's all fun and good to tease the poor little Fiat for being a lone jellybean on the road but when one is -thrown through the air at you- it starts to seem a helluva lot bigger! Unfortunately for Domino the best route for her to take is directly toward the giant, hulking wolf.

Fortunately for her, throwing herself directly into harm's way tends to put her probability field into overdrive.

Fiat meets Monte Carlo as the merc dives and hits the ground in a roll across the shoulders, blood oozing from various wounds as she pushes herself upright then opens fire with both of her pistols. While running. Toward the wolf.

(Keep momentum going, even if you run out of ammo -press the assault!-)


The wolf… thing doesn't seem amused. On a certain level it's just a construct of glowing light. Well, hard light. If one squints hard enough one can see Jericho floating in the center of it. The pistol rounds ping off the field. Jericho had been concerned for a moment that the assassin might be using something that could penetrate it's protection, but it seems like simple small arms fire.

Thank goodness for small favors.

As Domino charges, Jericho sets to receive her, pulling back as both arm and shoulder burn with pain and swiping down with what appear to be wickedly sharp claws.


To an unarmed target one of those shots could turn someone's stomach inside out. Against a bullet-proof vest it can crack ribs and kill from internal bleeding or kinetic shock. Against whatever this thing is? Not quite so effective. Dom's starting to think that she should have brought a fifty caliber rifle to finish this job, as far from subtle as it would have been. At least it would have been fun, and definitive!

Now, with nowhere left to run and a set of claws coming straight down at her, she does the only thing that she -can- do. Spiked knuckle guards come up and catch that swipe of claws, though the force propelling the attack is enough to drop the smaller mutant down to the ground.

It's all she can do to keep those claws away from her face, both arms set to strain against the giant limb if it keeps bearing down upon her.

"You're a right pain in the ass," she hisses through a clenched jaw.


"That's not the only place I'm going to be a pain." A fifty caliber rifle would have been a different story. The hardlight is designed to make him bullet proof but the fields can be overloaded. And feedback hurts. A lot. For an instant Jericho wants nothing more but to messily eviscerate Domino, difficult as that's proving to be, and leave her here for the cops or her employers or whomever to find.

And then the scream of nearby sirens breaks in on his awareness. Damn it. He's got to get clear. And fast. So he does the only thing he can, lashes out at Domino in a savage kick, drops the wolf field again for wings and hopes she doesn't shoot him before he can put a building between himself and her guns.


What's a kick to the side from a creature that can throw more than a ton of dead weight?

Quite a lot, in fact.

Domino's vision flashes dark as the shock jolts through her body, the armor staving off further puncture wounds but doing very little to prevent her insides from getting liquefied from the strike. The wolf can make his escape, she's spending the moment being curled up in a ball trying to get her breath, and her senses, back under control.

It's going to be one beautiful bruise.

This.. could become a problem. Not everyone offering a contract out there takes to failure quite so well. Luckily, she stands a very good chance of coming out of it alive.

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