Tagging a Bomber

February 15, 2015: High explosives and Mutant Town don't like to mix.

District X, NYC

Commonly referred to as Mutant Town, one might anticipate what can be found here.



  • 'Limey'
  • Lizard Lady
  • SRD guest appearance

Mood Music:

Lots of masks, these days. A bit ironic, considering a number of metahumans wear masks for reasons other than preventing disease, but with the recent host of vicious deaths amongst the mutant population, many have taken to wearing hospital masks any time they leave the house. So many mutants wear those masks that the atmosphere itself has changed, bearing a sense of danger that simply can't be avoided.

Still, life goes on for people. Groceries must be purchased, deposits made at the bank, and appointments at the barber shop can't be forgotten. The sunshine glares down at midday, warming the faces of those gripped by a bitter, winter chill. Amongst the throng of passersby is Scott Summers. The collar of his trench is turned up to ward off the biting wind, and a beanie is worn over his head. Behind his ruby shades, he's looking to and fro while walking the streets, unable to keep the disturbed feeling from the way it turns his mouth into a frown.


Nothing ever stays peaceful for long. Definitely not within the Tri-City area. Definitely not within District X. In one of those dilapidated brick and mortar buildings there's a scuffle, unheard by those down at street level but something which quickly draws attention of the other tenants around that level.

It's quickly followed by a trio of *bangs!* with one of the upper glass windows earning three small new holes through the grimy panes.

Then a mutant crashes through, screaming while free-falling to the sidewalk below, the dim grey light of the day almost making their translucent green body glow before they impact with the pavement. In an instant their scream is silenced, their body breaking apart into thousands of green-hued gobs of slime which spatter all over creation, sticking to walls and bystanders alike. Who knows if they're dead or simply spread out a little too far?


Quicksilver is a nosy little bastard. When someone who seems like a bossypants around the mansion leaves in a huff, it's enough to pique his curiosity. It's actually harder to silently stalk someone moving at super-speed than you'd think. It requires a lot of speeding up and slowing down. It's awfully easy to overshoot.

He gives up on his stalking though, once that body falls through the window and…shatters? Dude, it's colder out than it feels, obviously. He skids to a stop right by Scott. There's a long streak in the muddy city slush and he has to pinwheel his arms a bit to keep from falling over. "Whoah," he murmurs. "What the hell, man?" Scott would be forgiven for blasting him, really, considering he seems to come out of nowhere.


There's no question in Scott's mind; those are gunshots. He's not the only one familiar with the sound; a handful of people nearby go bolting for the proverbial wilderness, while Scott, instead, turns to find the source of the sound. He's powerless to help the falling mutant, grimacing when the translucent body strikes cement and splatters. Quicksilver's arrival draws his head to a snap, and from behind the shades, one eyebrow shoots upward. Familiar face; must be the speedster kid whose been causing trouble at the institute.

"Probably starting to riot," he offers, while reaching up to remove the shades from his face. "Disease is scary stuff." Eyes remain clenched shut, though interestingly, the skin usually concealed is rough, darkened, and leathery. The shades are replaced with a visor, one of the older models Scott brings with him when he's not in uniform. The visor is fixed over his face, at which point he bats a hand against Quicksilver's shoulder. "Don't just stand there, kid."

Scott's already on the move. Given time, he'll simply break the lock on this apartment building by firing a very tight beam into the locking mechanism. However, there's a speedster involved; there's no telling what shape the lock might be in by the time he gets there.


A riot would have been too easy. It would have actually made some amount of sense! Mutants having scuffles with other mutants isn't anything new, either. The difference here is that it isn't powers versus powers so much as powers versus tech.

Between the two getting inside of the apartment is no trouble at all, the lock is practically rusted to debris already! Though for the nosy speedster who wants to get in on the action right up front, he's in for an unexpected surprise.

Down below there's a ground-thudding explosion as all of the windows on that level of the building blast outward into glittering slivers of debris, also taking out some of the old brickwork and wooden interior trim. Bystanders duck, cry out, and in some cases turn to flee the rain of wreckage.

Quicksilver's viewpoint differs somewhat. He turns the bend just in time to see an eruption of fire and the rippling of air from a shockwave almost gracefully sweeping its way down the hall. The tired walls flex outward from the pressure wave as it peels away aged carpeting and wallpaper, ripping light fixtures out of the ceiling, throwing dust and splinters of wood about like pixie dust. Dots of white-hot metal streak through the air like misplaced stars from an evening sky, incinerating holes through whatever they touch as they travel faster than fired bullets.


Quicksilver isn't exactly used to that whole 'following orders' thing. But as he proved at the Gothan bridge attacks, he's not one to run away when people are in trouble. That, and there's a certain amount of bravado and cockiness that comes from an ability like his. He waits until Scott blasts the lock (gotta let the slowbies have their moments, sometimes) before he zips into the building and up the flights of stairs.

That's when things get…interesting. And by interesting, that means really, really bad. As fast as he is, explosions are still damned dangerous. He tries to turn, but turning on a dime when you're running at full-tilt is problematic. He aims back for a window in the hallway and braces his arms up. The shockwave takes care of blowing the glass out, but he has to try and time it between that wave and the wave of red hot debris that follows after. No easy task.

Once the window is blown out, he's running down the side of the building. The bricks fall out from under his feet and he loses his balance. He topples out onto the ground and barrel rolls, skidding to a stop on his back before Scott has even hit the ground from the force of the shock wave. He's covered in small lacerations and bleeding from a few spots, and his ears are ringing. He coughs pitifully. "Ow."


From Scott's perspective, he's simply been blown off his feet. He's barely able to catch the blur of color that signifies Quicksilver running into the building. Seconds later, he finds himself sprawled out a few feet away, cuts and bruises all over his body. It's the cough and the voice that draws his attention, and when he finds Quicksilver lying nearby, he's utterly confused. "What the…"

He backs up and props himself up, taking a moment to shake off the ringing in his ears. "You were just… nevermind." No time for that. He climbs to his feet and turns back to face the building, taking more time to gauge his surroundings rather than simply rushing in. "That was definitely a bomb," he points out. A hand rises to touch the vintage control mechanism on his visor, and he pans from side to side. What he wouldn't give for the enhanced scanning technology in his proper visor!

"We got to find who did this. Can you circle around back?"


Street level isn't looking very good right now. Fresh debris is strewn all over the area. People are trying to get back to their feet. Some reach for phones, others reveal the tricks of their own powers as they attempt to defend themselves. No one wants to be the hero, though. This is more than someone being bullied about. The situation just got a little too real for them.

Finding the person responsible shouldn't be too difficult, they're actually still on the scene. Seconds pass before a dark figure crawls out of one of those broken windows, looking a tad worse for wear herself. It's too high for her to drop down so her focus turns upward to an old external fire escape, still more or less intact. With a twist and a jump she catches the severed rungs and hauls herself up into what remains of the landing one floor above where the explosion had taken place.

The alley isn't going to provide much cover. Nor is the rickety metal of the stairs. Still, she's using it to try and reach the roof.


"Ughh…" moans Quicksilver as he lies on his back. He paws at his face with a mitten, smearing blood across his cheek. He rolls over on to his knees, then stands, wobbling slightly. He looks down at his down-filled coat, now littered with tiny burn holes. "Aw man, another one?" This superhero gig is hard on stylish jackets.

He squints up at the bombed-out building, and for a moment, it looks like he might just dart off like the other smart people. Instead, he croaks to Scott, "Yeah, I think so."

He takes a deep breath, then he's off in a silver blur, around the back of the building in the blink of an eye. He pauses, looks up, spots Domino, then backs up. He's moving too fast for her to see, but she'll feel the fire escape shake as he uses it to help him mount the wall vertically. He perches at the top of the roof, goggles over his face (those would've been smart earler. He's not going to make that mistake twice.) "Hi there. Need a hand up?" He offers a hand down to her. That's…that's probably not genuine.


Circling around opposite the direction of Quicksilver, Scott takes down an alley and comes blitzing around the other end shortly after Quicksilver makes his presence known, up there on the roof. A second passes, during which Scott actually finds himself smirking. Funny; he doesn't yet even know the kid's name, nor have they done any training together, but this strategy is currently working. Let's see if their luck holds.

Dialing down the setting, Scott takes aim and fires an optic beam toward the lower end of the fire escape. The blast knocks free one of the less-critical mounting brackets, causing the whole structure to creak and sway. He's got no intention of bringing it down yet. Just… a bit of intimidation.

Two more well placed blasts, dialed down to a lower level, send brick and mortar splattering from impact points to the left and the right of Domino. Not powerful enough to bust through and hurt anyone left inside, of course.

"Or?" He calls up. "You could come down."


So. Finding someone up top who's not only offering Domino a hand but happens to be someone that she's met once before is two kinds of unexpected in one. Then a third element, as the stairs suddenly lurch down and away from the rooftop with a sprinkling of brick and a metallic groan of protest. It's not going to take much at all to bring the whole works crashing down, and her right with it.

Quicksilver would recognize her, no doubt. She's the only woman in the world with a face like hers. This time there's no mind-controlled coffee-seeking pigeons out in Metropolis. Just a well-armed albino with a bit of blood and grit smeared across her face.

Something else is different from their last encounter, too. This time she isn't offering a business card.

She's leveling a big, scary looking pistol at Pietro's forehead.


One jacketed hollowpoint comes spinning out of the bore, followed by thin jets of burnt propellant from the vents in the weapon's compensator. The slide creeps backward and kicks the spent casing out into the open, lazily flipping end over end as the albino suddenly pushes herself away and rolls off the back of the railing.

An identical sidearm comes into her other hand, barely clearing the holster before she blindly fires down in Scott's direction.

She loses some height, falling back to the one building's ruined level only to fall through the broken window of its neighbor then land on her shoulders, rolling out into the hall.

Its tenants are not very pleased about this.


Guns. Psh. Guns. Quicksilver would be lying if he said that bullets didn't occasionally worry him (lots and lots can be problematic) but a single shot is relative child's play. He doesn't bother redirecting the bullet headed his way. Instead, he just moves out of the way. He vaults over the side of the roof and falls, slow motion (from his perspective) from fire escape to broken windowsil, to dumpster. He then sweeps a hand through the air, scattering the bullets aimed at Scott wildly off in non-Scott directions. He pauses in front of the visored one, a halo of shots slamming around them as the redirected bullets hit their altered marks. He squints up at the window, then glances to the other, issuing a silent question. Now what, boss?


Or she could do that.

Scott's eyes go wide, visible in the way his eyebrows shoot upward and the length of his face stretches. Fingers spin that dial, and a button is depressed, sending percussive fury with a red glow from the opening edge of his visor. He is, in no way, faster than a speeding bullet, and with time stretched in a certain perspective, it shows; the red beam lashes out while lips part in a silent yell, but the bullet is headed just a few inches too high to be struck by the optic beam.

That is, of course, until Quicksilver quite simply alters that bullet's trajectory.

From Scott's perspective, he should he dead. It takes a moment after switching off the Hail Mary before he notices the younger man standing before him. "Jesus!" he blurts out, startled. "How fast are you, anyway?"

The commotion draws his eye. There is a pause, where Scott considers just how far to push this pursuit. Collateral damage is already stacking up. He cracks his neck, wincing as he does; the fall he took from that explosion really did hurt like hell, he's just good at concealing it. "Let's try to be quieter about this," he suggests. "Track her. She gets cornered, she gets trigger happy." Perhaps, if they're able to track the dark woman, they might be able to take her down in a less populated area.

Scott shoots a finger upward, indicating that Quicksilver should take to the roof again. Better vantage point. Scott then nods his head toward the back door, before headed that way. A boot to the door sends it slamming in, a noise designed to let their mark know that the pursuit isn't off. Then, however, he's all quiet, toeing his way along with practiced silence. a hand remains on his visor, ready to fire, while listening and looking for clues as to which way she may have gone.


She missed.


The red optic blast comes awfully close to clipping Domino right out of the sky before she could get back to cover… One blaster and one speedster confirmed, this could get a lot more interesting.

By the time she's back to her feet and ready to sprint there's another set of eyes staring down the hall at her, with vertically slit pupils. Another series of shots slam out into the building, the reptilian mutant woman diving back for cover with a stifled hiss. Alive, but quite shaken.

The shots failed to mask the sound of the door being kicked open down below. She's going to have company. One is impossible to outrun, she'll either have to out-think the guy or find a way to put him down for good. The blaster..should be dead. Hell, they should -both- be dead! Now she's stuck in the middle level with no easy way to go to higher -or- lower ground. Or so she might think.

In Dom's situation, the best laid plans sometimes -aren't.- She goes sprinting down the hall, the thump of heavy boots on thread-bare carpeting over aged wood anything but subtle. There's another window staring her down, yards ahead. All she has to do is break through it and hope for the best. Somehow these situations have a habit of working out for her.


For a moment, it looks like Quicksilver is going to complain about mounting the building. Up, down, up, down! Make up your mind! Instead, he just wipes at another still-bleeding laceration. "I know her. She was friendly before." Blowing up buildings? Not so friendly.

He steels himself, tries to ignore the myriad of aches, bruises and cuts, then disappears in a silver blur.

He skids to a stop on a patch of ice on the roof and loses his balance. It's no Ice Capades. It's more like…you know one of those animal blooper reels when penguins fall down? Pietro faceplants and smacks his chin off the slick of ice. Oof.

That miscalculation means he's down when Domino crashes through the window, and he can't get to his feet quick enough to tackle her out of the air. It's not much of a delay, though. She's going to have to get out of sight before the speedster spots her.


Thud-thud-thud-thud— yep, that's her.

Scott takes up the pursuit, though he's not interested in stopping her. Not any more. He comes around a corner just a bit too far behind, and even goes so far as to call out, "Stop!!"

Though his hand doesn't fire, he keeps it upon the control device for good measure. If she aims that beastly gun his way, just might find out how impossibly accurate his 'look and shoot' capabilities are. Otherwise? He doesn't engage, he simply matches her pace and runs after her toward that window.

Scott leaps through the window behind Domino. Still, he doesn't fire. His other hand reaches into the trench, pulling out a very small tracking device, which gets thrown with a pitcher's swing straight up and into the air. "Stop!!" he calls again, but it's all a front. Here's to hoping Quicksilver is in position and notices that tracker before it comes back down from its toss.


..Huh. No one's ever jumped out of the window after her before. Domino twists around in the air, just about to start shooting back up at Scott when she finds what's waiting beneath her in the alley below.

Snow can make for a softer landing. Sometimes it takes a lot of snow. Sometimes the snow only helps slow things down before they collide with whatever's lying beneath.

The albino woman quickly finds out that there had been a -car- hiding beneath the huge snowdrift now threatening to swallow her whole, a barked grunt and a hollow *THUD* met with a muffled report of safety glass shattering further within the drift.

The whole ordeal with the tracker has gone unnoticed. What she sees now is a small valley of dirty snow and a guy with a weird looking visor somewhere other than where she'd like him to be. The former she can work through, given a chance.

The latter she'd like to think she can work through as well, given the matched pistols being raised in Scott's direction. The look in her eyes says enough. Talk can wait, there's still people to kill!


From Domino's perspective, it's nothing more than a whisper of wind. The only proof of Quicksilver's passing is a splatter of blood smearing across the snow and up on to her clothing. Which, if she herself is bleeding may go completely unnoticed.

The whole thing is much more impressive from Pietro's perspective. He comes running vertically down the side of the building. The tracker is snatched midair, redirected and pinned to Domino before she hits the parked car. He appears only briefly to the pair of them before disappearing instead. There's a strange zippering sound. He reappears right by Scott, eyebrows raised in an expression of utter innocence. He flashes a big grin.

Domino will find each of her hands securely fastened to the guns with duct tape. That's really just the mischief-making part, though. Even if she manages to move her fingers and pull the trigger, she'll find the chamber empty and the mags sitting at her feet. "C'mon, duuude. I was starting to like you. What's with all the killing and the exploding? Not cool." He folds his arms over his chest and then glances to Scott. The visored man gets a small nod. Tracker secure, good buddy.


This might have been a mistake! The look shows on Scott's face when he realizes that yes, he's airborne, and falling. There's not even time for any cursing. He tucks into a roll, taking the brunt of the impact on his back and rolling through to spread the shock through his limbs. Snow and shrapnel fly all over, before Scott finds himself rolling to a halt with two headlamps and two pistols aimed his way.

Hands come upward, surrendering. "Don't shoot," he breathes. The left hand twitches, wanting to go for his visor, but he's not ready to test his speed against hers. There's no way he'll win that one, not with her fingers pressed against triggers. "Look, no one else needs to die here!"

Thats… when he notices the duct tape. Then, the mags sitting nearby. Huh. Nice moves, Pietro. Scott's lips form a smirk, while his left hand darts inward to grab his visor's controls. Moments later, those mags are blasted down the alley and into the street beyond with two well aimed, tight beam blasts.


..Wait..no..this isn't right at all..this isn't-

Dom would recognize that silvery glint of duct tape anywhere. (Okay, that guy is really, -really- fast.)

She's taken part of the dual pistol approach into consideration, each of her weapons is fitted with custom spiked handguards which would work wonderfully in a brawl. This is usually meant for when she runs out of ammo or gets in a little too close. Right now she's not in optimal range for them.

One up above. One down below. So long as she's lying prone. The blaster's a good shot with that visor of his, too. A good shot..but also not a violent sort.

She can work with that.

With another grunt she's kicking away from the car and pushing her way through the snow, swiping at it with her spiked pistols like some sort of animal scrambling about with its claws.

As much as she'd love to take a swipe at them both it clearly won't do any good. She can't reload very well now, either. Not that it would do any good with all of that tape in the way. Seriously, who -does- that?!

So, she'll just get the hell out of here if she can. The timing is right, the SRD are starting to arrive at the scene of the explosion. For once those bastards might be useful to her.


If Scott starts to make a move after Domino, Quicksilver stops him with an arm up and in the way. Which might seem impetuous (who, him?) but actually has a purpose. "Check whatever gizmo-thing you got. Cause I got that tracker thing on her. Nice move, by the way. I almost missed it, though. That bastard is tiny."

For all it seems like the speedster had the upper hand throughout that whole thing, he's a little bit more worse for wear than is obvious. He's got a split lip, several small shrapnel lacerations, bruises and perhaps most tragically, he blew the sole on his kickin' white poufy Sorel boots with neon laces.

Mourn for that fashion loss. MOURN. What a monster that Domino is. The blown sole is the primary reason for him to not run her down like a cheetah. He can still get frostbite and that sole is barely staying together.

He thumbs towards the sound of the sirens. "S'that our cue to exit, Highbeams?"


Theres a tracker. Scott doesn't exactly expect it to last too long, but really, it's no matter. The tracking device will either lead them to Domino's secret hide out, or she'll find it. If she finds it, it'll serve to show her just how good he and Quicksilver worked as a team, and that's saying something! Message delivered.

"You know her?" Scott rises to his feet with a wince, acknowledging his compliment with a mild mannered smirk. "Glad you caught it, they're expensive." He wipes some blood from the corner of his mouth, wincing in pain as the adrenaline tapers, letting the real pain bleed through. "Yeah," he quips darkly. "Sure is." SRD's coming in from the street, which means the alley is where they'll make their retreat.


Any skirmish you can run away from… Is it a victory or is it a loss? Not even Domino knows. She's not in her best frame of mind at the moment. She's not going to be much happier as soon as she sits down to scrape through all of that tape. Seriously, it's not easy to conceal-carry two large sidearms when they're taped to the hands! A subtle escape, this will not be.

At least she's still lucky.

Should the other two mutants retrieve the fallen pistol mags they'll have a bit more evidence to work with. Someone who's a bit more gun-savvy would be able to identify what model of weapon they came from and could offer a bit more insight as to what she's been feeding them both.

Back over to the partially destroyed building there's a translucent lime green mutant standing outside of the front steps, reconstituted and with hands held high. "Wasn't me, wasn't me! She was inside, sixth floor!"


Quicksilver lifts his foot up and down and sighs as the sole flops like a muppet mouth. He grabs the duct tape off his belt and zip-zip-zips it around his foot a few times. It kills the tread, but at least the boots aren't going to disintegrate off his feet. He blows on the edge of the duct tape and replaces it on his belt. Seriously. 3M should sponsor him.

He walks carefully with Scott, keeping his eyes peeled for other tricksy ice patches. "Yeah. Her name's Domino. I met her awhile ago. She wasn't blowing stuff up then. Maybe she's having a bad day?" Hard to tell if he's serious.

He's not clever enough to think about retrieving the magazines.


On second thought…

Scott replaces the tactical visor with his ruby glasses. Fortunately, they weren't shattered in the fall, or else that one might be difficult to explain to the authorities. He can hear the commotion from the front of the building. "You know, Pietro, right?" He glances toward the young man. "I think we might be better served as witnesses to all this."

Scott leads the way toward the street, where SRD, NYPD and EMT's are responding. "Keep your eyes on the cops," he murmurs toward Pietro. "Swipe anything they lift as evidence."

In short order, Scott walks toward the lime green mutant, hands rising into the air as well. "I saw it, too!" he calls out. "I'll answer questions." He'll talk to the authorities, providing a distraction for Quicksilver's antics. Besides, one can learn a lot from what law enforcement types choose not to talk about, and given the chance, he's going to want to have a talk with the mutant who turned into a green jello fountain just moments ago.


Cooperating with the NYSRD is always a mixed bag. The team in this neck of the woods are not fans of mutants in the slightest. Fortunately for Scott and Pietro they look ..normal enough. Not like Sir Jello or Reptile Lady. Choosing to stick around for a while means lots of questions, lots of time sitting out in the cold.

The other mutants don't call them out for what part they had played in this. They knew the score. VisorGuy and the Silver Blur were trying to help out.

Evidence takes some time. The state of the bombed building isn't yet known so they aren't able to comb it for details, though they might overhear one of the SRD guys telling a uniformed buddy that it looked like something military-grade had done the damage.

Jelloguy doesn't seem to have any clue about what had happened. It sounded like a fight broke out in another apartment, he stepped out to see if things were okay, bumped into her, got shot three times then kicked out of the window. Face was white as a ghost, with a black spot around one eye.

What evidence they're able to retrieve involves a couple of spent shell casings and, sure enough, two partially loaded mags. Slightly worse for wear after being blasted down the alley, but they've managed to find most of the parts.


Quicksilver's part of the plan doesn't take him too long. He manages to sneakily lift the needed evidence easily enough and pocket it inside his jacket. That done, he waits for Scott to be released by the cops a little ways away, just outside the police cordon and by a hot dog stand. He's munching away and slurping at a hot beverage, one eye kept on the commotion. The cops are probably gonna be pretty pissed when they find their evidence bags have been filled with garbage.


Scott Summers can be very patient when he needs to. After all, he's got a legitimate ID, and is a teacher at a private school upstate. One of those upstanding mutant types. When he's finally released, he pitches a two fingered salute Quicksilver's way, then hops onto a city bus bound for the nearest MTA station. Time to regroup back at HQ, it would seem.

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