Setting One's Sights

January 02, 2015: Two lost souls wind up in the same area on the same evening. (Language)


Somewhere along the old South Point Harbor…



Mood Music:

Free of SHIELD. For the moment. Free of the NYPD. Again..for the moment. Free of a lot of things, but not free of the Russian Bratva operating out of this corner of Gotham. Though tonight Domino isn't shooting for them. Tonight she's shooting for something else. Literally.

Moonlight glistens off of grime-spattered glass along the water's edge, several old bottles lined up along various brick and cement ledges. Some lie right on the concrete docks. Most of them are in one piece, or fairly close to, though a few lie in ruin, shattered into dozens of insignificant fragments which only add to the litter, and the not so natural hazards of the area.

Then another one explodes like an ornament thrown against a brick wall, there one second and gone the next with a distant *paf!* of a suppressed .223.

Sometimes you have to find your own fun. The albino's decompiling, right out here in the bitter cold and the unforgiving winds coming off of the waterfront. She's wearing a thicker coat complete with fur lining this time, lying prone on an old fleece blanket. A partially empty bottle sits to one side. A box of rounds and a few spare magazines sit on the other side.

Another spent casing *pings!* out of the ejection port, the bolt pushed forward and down as her breath mists out from her mouth. "Take that, Mister Daniels."


Tonight, it's luck's chance that Domino wouldn't be alone at the bay harbor. Moonlight reflects off the surface of the water. The wooden pier extending out into the water is littered with ropes, gravel, and even has a couple of boats anchored to it that gently rock to the water's movements. Danging over the side of the dock is Evelyn's legs, the edge of her skirt also dangling off the edge. At the moment, she's sitting on the edge of the dock, hands planted on the edge as she looks into the water.

She can't swim.

Normal people can't fly, either, but they still sit on the edge of buildings. That must be what it's like for her. Her evening attire was certainly made in mind for her day off. A flowing dress with a ruffled skirt that's knee length in front, and reaches her calves in the back. Her shoulders are exposed and rosy in the cold, and her purse is beside of her. The hem of the skirt's bottom is an almost delpinium blue.

She's been here a while, doing nothing in particular but watching the bay. Maybe longer than Domino. Maybe. So it's no surprise to her that she hears the shattering of another couple bottles. At first, she was curious, but then she thought better of investigating. With her position, she can't see Domino, but she can see the row of bottles set up as they're blown to bits. At least, when she leans back anyways. Eventually, curiosity gets the better of her.

As Domino reloads, something hits one of the bottles at the base of the neck with a small 'plink!'. A pebble or something. It causes enough imbalance with the bottle that it rocks a bit before falling over to its side, rolling off the table to hit the ground with a 'crash!'. The cause of this being Evelyn, now laying on her back on the dock, sprawled out and legs still off the side.




Cold blue eyes -stare- toward the makeshift target stand as Domino's hands operate on autopilot, seating the mag and palming the bolt closed as the optics come into her field of view.

Something else knocked one of her bottles over. No stray cats in the area. Or hyenas. Or..anything..? Next she hops up onto one knee, the rifle easily transitioning to her shoulder. A little higher ground, head still kept low. Sweep..and clear? What? Well that shot had to have come from -somewhere-…

Like another shadow in the night the merc picks up and darts for cover closer to the bottles. Push forward, pause, scan, repeat. She's not expecting someone to be sitting on one of the rickety old piers, mostly because they would have had to walk right past her line of fire in order to get there. Thus, when she -does- see someone out there, lying on her back, wearing way, WAY too little clothing for this bastard cold weather-

It takes her a moment to close the distance, largely in part to her attempting to keep herself hidden. Once heavy combat boots greet weathered and squeaky old wooden planks however, it's all over. Soon enough the sprawled out Evelyn will have the face of a ghost staring down at her. Ringed in thick fur. With a rifle in her hands.

"Not funny."


Normal people? They might be pretty fantastically cold in this weather with just a breezy dress on. Evelyn? Oh yeah. She's frigid. Touch her and you'll see, it's like blood running backwards through her veins. She's ice cold. That's not to say it's a pleasant and okay sensation for her, but she's not likely to catch a cold from it or die from it. At least, as far as she knows. That's one advantage of being a machine. She does /look/ cold, though.

It's not until Domino's looming over her that she lifts her head enough to look at the ghastly mercenary. She could ask 'what are you doing out here', but the reason is likely the same as hers. To be alone. Or for target practice, obviously. She doesn't particularly /want/ anything, either. Sufice to say, the best reply Evelyn can come up with is a simple, "Hey." Her eyes flicker from Domino's face to her rifle briefly. Oh, she recognises the model, undoubtedly.


The other woman looks cold, alright… "Jezus, Ev. I'm practically blue out here and I'm feeling cold looking at -you.-"

The rifle's stock comes to rest by one of her boots, holding the barrel at her side. It's a Mossberg, not particularly fancy nor expensive but it takes AR-15 mags which can give it a stupid high capacity if so desired. "I don't get it. I really don't. You've got more self-loathing than a depressed emo kid who just lost both of her parents, her best friend, and her puppy."

(Sigh. What has been seen… I can't just walk away from this.)

Domino crouches down to get that much closer to Evelyn, forearms draped across her knees as she looks out over the water. "You should really learn to stop punishing yourself one of these days. I'll bet it's not even for a good reason."

(Maybe she tried to overclock herself and got the voltage wrong?)


Evelyn looks from the rifle back to Domino, especially as she kneels down. Her hands remain at her sides, palms down. Actually, if anything, she looks pretty relaxed for being so cold. Her reactor is kicking out less power. It's working more efficiently than it usually does just from the cooling system really taking a hit due to the cold environs. It's not dangerous or anything, but a good contributor to her icy skin.

As though practiced, Evelyn recites in the most deadpan expression, "Hill says I could be getting a promotion. I think she likes me. Who wouldn't feel awful after that?" Oh, she sounds completely serious, but she's probably just deflecting.


What..? Who? Domino just stares down at Evelyn in absolute silence, the gusts of wind tossing about short-cropped hair and fur trim alike. It takes her a moment to respond.

"Get the hell over yourself, you twisted little drama-queen."


Evelyn pauses, a slow grin tugging at her lips as she watches Domino just fail to react to it at all. Eventually she realizes Domino must not realize who she's talking about, but she can't help but laugh at the response. Lifting her arm, she offers her hand to Domino.

"Help me up?" She inquires, the grin fading.


Domino rolls her eyes with another heavy breath, the air misting then vanishing as she reaches a hand down and claps it against Evelyn's.

An instant later she's sucking in a sharp breath, her eyes bugging wide. "-Shit,- Ev! I've found warmer bodies in a goddamn meat locker! Sure your ass isn't frozen to the pier yet?"

She'll help the other woman up, though as soon as she -is- up any physical contact is going to be broken. Before her hand falls off from the Ice Queen's Wrath, or something. She actually has to wrap both of her hands around the suppressor, leeching the blessed warmth from the welded metal tube.

"I mean it though, get the hell over yourself. 'I'm in line for a promotion, I never get sick, I never age or sunburn or have to worry about shaving and I'll live halfway to forever.' You don't freeze to death either, apparently. The rest of the fucking planet could hope to be so lucky!"


Evelyn smiles as she feels the warmth of your hand in hers, it damn near feels burning hot to her. Hissing, she picks up her leg and plants her foot against the edge of the pier to push herself up. The wood in the dock groans a bit as her weight shifts. Once she's on her feet, she lets go just as quickly.

Brushing her hands on her dress, she looks down then up at Domino again. "Halfway to forever is actually about another thirty or so years, before my reactor fails." Evelyn says with a small, dark chuckle.

"It was a joke," she finally says, brushing off the admonishment again. "It's good to see you again, I'm sorry I lied to you the other day. Actually, earlier that morning I met The Joker." She glances at her purse, then blushes a little bit, covering her chest with folded arms. "It's freezing out here."


… Oh. Um.

"Oh," Domino awkwardly replies, both in regards to the reactor issue and the former joke. One hand reaches around to scratch the back of her neck. A moment later she's picking the rifle up and completely absentmindedly touching a round off into the water, there and gone with a *PafSplooch!*

"Been kinda stressful all around," she lamely admits.

The shiver which follows has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with 'The Joker.' She responds to the freezing comment first. "Ya think? It's fifteen freaking degrees out here, ya nut. Got a blanket about eighty yards that way if you want it," she offers while thumbing over her shoulder.

"Took a job against that freak once," she then admits with a soft-turned voice. "He and his equally psychotic girlfriend. After the second hand grenade I decided it wasn't worth the trouble and got the hell outta there. Real piece of work, ol' Batdude's got himself in for a wild ride."


"Is that why you're mopey, because his humor's so awful? That'd be enough to get anyone down," she thinks aloud as a dead fish slowly bobs to the surface about thirty feet out, a neat little hole punched through it from a sub-sonic bullet.


Evelyn shakes her head, reaching up afterwards to brush a hand through her bangs. "No, that's not it." She sighs, the dead fish catching her attention for a moment and she responds by raising an eyebrow at Domino. Really? A fish? Like shooting fish out of a.. bay. That fucking luck.

"You'd have to consider yourself lucky if you think you could score a hit against Joker. I barely escaped alive, he's mad." She pauses, "More than me."

She glances at the indicated area that Domino points to. Blanket area. She raises her eyebrows sympathetically at Domino, "..That'd be nice. Please? I actually can't feel my hands. .. Or arms." Or more. HEr body is close to numb. Just the feeling of the cold drowns out physical sensation, like trying to hear a conversation when everyone around you is screaming. "I don't envy Batman."


Domino looks right back at that puzzled expression, glancing out to the bay and back with a blank look and an equally vacant shrug. 'What?'

"Things tend to work out in the end for me," she admits. "I took on some of his henchjerks and came out widely unscathed. Just couldn't land the hit. I've taken on worse gigs, guess it wasn't meant to be." Knowing a guy like that he'd probably have held a grudge if she -did- win that evening. Who knows.

"Me either," she flatly admits while leading the way off of the rickety old pier and back to the awaiting fleece.

"So why'd you lie to me about Barton?"


Evelyn doubles back to pick up her purse, before swinging on her heel and walking quickly back over. What is that /sound/?! Is she wearing heels? Are you fucking kidding me right now? Has Evelyn really ever been dressed this effeminate before? She actually looks like a chick planning a night on the town rather than the femme fatale thing she's usually got going on. Her breath doesn't even come out as mist now, even as she sighs again. Core temperatures are even low.

"That's lucky of you. I'm a little curious why you never told me —" She starts, about to likely bring up the mutant thing before the last question cuts her off. She stops dead in her tracks and stares. "What the fuck, Domino? Shit.. I haven't told anyone about him, how did.."


The dress had been noticed, too. Dom's given up trying to figure this girl out some time ago. Weird, crazy, eccentric…

And in -heels.- Will wonders never cease.

"Never told you..?" she presses when the question never comes forth. One more step and she, too, stops short, spinning around to look at the synthetic with her non-rifle carrying hand sweeping out wide. "What-? -Told- anyone..? I was just-"

Stare. -Stare.-

"You didn't."

It's as much as a plea as it is a demand from the albino, her arm dropping back to her side as she siiilently strides closer until she's facing Ev down directly.

"Tell. Me. You didn't."

Will wonders never cease, indeed.


Evelyn's face is faulted, somewhere between surprise and just being completely upset. The conversation quickly reaches a crescendo when Domino presses into her with her questions, staring her down. Her eyes narrow and she just attempts to keep it together. Her mind rolls over the conversation again, and again, and again.

Finally, she breaks down and covers her face with her hands. She sobs once, a pathetic squeak as she inhales and just breathes. "..and he .. I was so stupid. Even after.."

The kind of broken words and fragments you'd expect, her voice cracking, "I'm so stupid."


Suddenly the pieces allll come together for Domino, though the picture which she's now seeing may not be the accurate representation of the most recent turn of events for Evelyn. It's just the albino's luck that the picture happens to be virtually identical to the real McCoy.

The fancy dress. The -heels.- Sitting alone, in the dark, on a frigid cold pier.

Evelyn tried to ask Barton out and got rejected. That's why she's here, all done up like she is. ..Right? Why -else- would she choose to do any of this?

Dom's initial response has no words at all, however. Her forehead drops into a gloved palm with an audible *Thap!*

"Oh, Ev…" she groans in a muted but pained tone, slowly shaking hand and head together as one.

(And now I have to deal with her crying again. I should demand payment up front whenever I run into her.)

In addition, now she doesn't have the slightest freaking clue what to say or do next! A pat on the shoulder and a 'there, there' doesn't seem like it's going to cut it.

Tough love it is.

"You know what the first rule to not failing is?" she finally asks. "Stop setting yourself up to fail in the first place. Besides, I've seen the guy's apartment. Whatever time you don't spend working you'd spend playing Rosie the Robotic Housemaid for the twit, and frankly? He doesn't deserve that kind of help."

Yeah… That'll do. Words of fucking wisdom, right here. Bill's in the mail.


Evelyn just stands there for a portion of it, her hands covering her face so at least Domino can't /see/ her crying. Fuck, she's even holding it in as best as she can. No big bear sobs, but a couple of tears do drop from her chin to the concrete ground. Domino's version of the truth isn't far from it. Tonight was more like a reclamation of herself, an attempt to get out of crying over this and have some fun. It didn't end up like that, she left a party eventually to just come out here and it didn't pan out well.

To Domino's tough love, she can't really say anything. About mid way through, she just starts walking forward, half navigating around Domino until she's leading the way away where she can lower her hands. The tears are still streaming down, sort of obscuring her vision, and she stumbles a bit, but keeps walking.

She'd be utterly wordless, but Domino deserves some sort of answer. Sniffing, she says in her cracked voice, "I don't have any answers.. I don't know."


There Dom continues to stand, her one hand still held out and up as she watches Evelyn walk around her without a word. Another heavy, borderline exaggerated breath leaves her as she lowers her hand and turns around once more.

"Well, it -is- Barton so it was kind of a safe assumption that there wouldn't be any competition," she mutters in afterthought.

"Look kiddo," she tries again while briskly moving to catch back up. "There are -lots- of guys out there, and -this- one in particular is so -completely- not worth shedding any tears over. He's a chump, get over it. Besides, it's not like he's going to stay -loyal- to whomever he does wind up settling down with. ..If he ever does."

(God, how many yards out is that drink..? C'mon Droidalyn, let's step it up a little."

Releasing one more sigh for good measure, she offers "Come on. We get my stuff then I'll give you a ride home."

What the hell else can she do?


Evelyn stops when she manages to somehow make her way to Domino's stuff. She stops again and wipes at her eyes. Oh, she's still trying to make herself not cry. She remembers their last conversation, about Domino's insistence that she stop crying infront of her. She shakes her head a bit at the comment regarding Barton's competition. "It's not his fault.. I have bad taste in men."

She looks up to Domino with a stupid smile, sniffing and rubbing at her eyes. There's some truth to that.

"I've never.. Asked anyone before.. I know I'm a mess. Everyone knows that." She clears her throat.


"And you started with -him?-" Domino suddenly asks, slightly shocked. It doesn't last, quickly replaced with a thoughtful shrug. "Actually that's not all that bad a strategy. Start out light. Anyway, before you have any 'taste in men' you have to find somewhere to start. Look, being single's a blessing in its own right. Don't let it get you down."

"Also you probably shouldn't seek relationship advice from a mercenary."

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