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Just Lucky, I Guess 20/?
She paced in front of the mirror in her room, studying her
reflection from different angles. The carefully applied latex
makeup concealed her facial birthmark and matched her albino
skin tone so well that if she hadn't lived with the plum colored oval
around her left eye all of her life, she wouldn't even have known it
existed. Satisfied with the disguise, she delicately applied 'normal'
makeup next, covering all visible parts of her body with an apricot tinted
acrylic-based foundation (purchased from the same company which
produced the latex concealer). Conventional makeup came next- instead of
her usual vivid lipstick and heavy mascara she opted for
neutral shades. 'Now for the costume,' she grimaced.
She opened her cramped closet doors. Knowing Pete,
they'd meet in a bar, probably the Crown, so she wanted to appear as
inconspicuous as possible. She'd probably be recognized anyway (she still
had quite a few contacts in British intelligence and more than a few
European enemies left over from her mercenary days) but the demure
makeup and the boring (if well made) beige linen business suit she pulled
from a dark corner of the closet went a long way towards disguising her
true identity.
She stuck her tongue out at her reflection in the mirror as she
pulled her hair into a sleek chignon and slipped on a strand of pearls and
matching stud earrings. 'I look like a freakin' ninetofiver,' she groused,
'but I guess that's the point.' The outfit, the hairstyle, the jewelry all
fit the part of a typical executive going out for a few drinks after
work. The woman she saw in the mirror was a far cry from one of the most
wanted people on the planet. She allowed herself a small smile of
anticipation. 'After everything that's happened this week, it'll be good
to get back to work.'
After hastily throwing her usual casual clothing (and several
uniforms) into a well-worn suitcase, she stepped into a pair of
high-heeled pumps. 'I hate these damn things,' she muttered. 'At least my
boots have a little support. I'm gonna topple right over in these things
if I'm not careful.' She stepped into them anyway.
Her peripheral vision caught a glance at the time on the clock
beside her bed and she swore under her breath. She opened her top dresser
drawer and pulled out a handful of concussion grenades and tossed them in
the suitcase. Crouching, she reached under the bed and retrieved her
favorite plasma rifle and gently laid it atop the mass of crumpled
clothing and zipped the now bulging suitcase up. Almost as an
afterthought, she grabbed two Glocks from the same top drawer and stuck
one in her her waistband and the other in the dusty expensive-looking
leather purse that had hung with the suit. 'Nate'll have the big stuff on
the plane if we need it,' she reassured herself, feeling *very*
uncomfortable that she was going into any unknown situation without
serious hardware. 'Pete, old buddy, I trust you, but this'd better be
good.'
Before closing the drawer, she took a large bottle of perfume and
doused herself liberally with it, nose wrinkling at the spicy smell. 'Ah,
this is disgusting. Not my style at *all*.' Terry's father had given her
the expensive perfume for her birthday earlier that year, but claiming
allergies, she'd passed it on to Domino instead. She knew the truth- the
scent was unlike anything Teresa would ever consider wearing. 'We
agree on that one,' she choked. The smell, nonetheless, seemed vaguely
familiar. 'Emma must have bought this,' she realized. 'This is her
cologne. Hmmmm....doing his shopping for him- or getting her shoppers to
do his, too?' The last time she'd lectured over there she *had* noticed
that the two hadn't been arguing as much. 'Wonder what Terry thinks about
that?'
Taking a deep breath, cleared her mind and began working
herself into the proper mindset for the job (not an easy feat, given the
situation). Neither she nor Pete could afford any distractions at this
point. If the matter were important enough to fly halfway across the world
for, it was important enough to give her full attention to it. She hoisted
the heavy suitcase easily and locked the door to her room. The stiletto
heels clicked efficiently against the cold tile of the hallway as she
strode down the corridor toward the winding staircase. She exited the
stairwell into the elegant main foyer and to her vast amusment passed
Rictor and Sunspot passing through in heated debate over a long ago soccer
game.
"You're crazy as hell, man. They didn't win that match- I don't
know what you're sellin' or smokin', but I *know* we won that one!"
"I *told* you, you're wrong! I remember that series, because
Juliana and I watched it at my father's..." Bobby's voice trailed off as
he noticed Domino standing in the corner near the stairwell. He nudged
Rictor silently.
Rictor was confused at his friend's sudden silence. "Bobby, man,
what's wron...oh." His jaw dropped open. 'Issat....nah....yeah, it is
her!' He raised an eyebrow and said tentatively "uh...Dom, 'zat you?"
She rolled her eyes and continued walking. "Yep. I gotta go, Ric.
As much as I'd enjoy chatting with you two, I've got to run. Now you two
be good little boys while I'm gone- Terry's in charge. Treat her orders
like you would mine- hell, scratch that- just do what she says. I
don't know when we'll be back, but I'll give you a call tonight and let
you know a rough estimate." Neither man spoke. She slowed down and
finally stopped, then walked back towards where the two stood
gaping."Well?"
Roberto broke himself out of his reverie "Sorry, Domino- forgive
Ric's rudeness." He bowed gracefully "You look lovely, as usual." She
snorted in amusement but said nothing.
Rictor growled under his breath at his friend. "Yeah, go on, have
a fiesta. We'll be fine," he reassured his dubious commander.
Roberto eyed her curiously. He'd heard that Cable and Domino were
going on a mission, but that usually just entailed guns, guns, illegal
breaking and entering and guns. This looked to be far more interesting.
"So, who's going on this little jaunt- just you and Cable? Where're you
going?"
She shook her head "Good try, DaCosta, but none of your business.
We'll give you a call to check on things later, but right now I've gotta
go, I'm running..." she glanced at the antique grandfather clock by the
wall "Shit, I'm already late. Gotta go." Lifting the suitcase, she
pivoted and turned back down the long hall towards the hangar bay.
Rictor and Roberto watched her leave, then stared at each other in
amazement. Roberto spoke first. "What th' hell was that all about? Domino
looked...almost innocent," a term he'd never associated with her before.
Rictor just shrugged. "Who knows, man? Around here, who can tell?
Shit, Dom in a dress- and a plain one at that? I can't handle all this
weirdness." He pulled indelicately at his bright purple and gold spandex
uniform, the one that had the tendency to ride up in the *most*
uncomfortable places. 'Dammit,' he grumbled 'I miss my green one with the
fringes.'
The hangar bay was empty, so she walked straight up the extended
ramp into the plane. Betsy sat in one of the comfortable reclining chairs
in the 'passenger section', really just the back area of the plane. She
was flipping through a thick fashion magazine but looked up at Domino's
entrance. She noted the other woman's cover and nodded. 'Good. We're
going to at least make an attempt at subtlety.'
Betsy had disguised herself as well, though not to the extent
Domino had. Hopefully they'd spend one night in London while Domino ran
down Wisdom, stop by Muir Island to visit Brian and Excalibur in the
morning, and be home by dinner tommorrow. She understood why Wisdom had
wanted to meet in London instead of at the isolated privacy of Muir- after
years of living communally with the X-men she knew exactly how difficult
it was to keep secret meetings secret. Though she wasn't privy to the
details, she understood that whatever message was so dire that it required
face to face discussion most definately should not be gossip fodder for
either Excalibur or the X-men. She knew they believed her vision but
she also knew that the real reason she and Logan had been accepted on this
trip as easily as they had been was because both knew the importance of
discretion.
Logan lay on one of the wide benches lining the wall, battered
leather cowboy hat shading his eyes. A thin stream of smoke from a lit
cigar clenched tightly between his teeth wafted into the air. Both he
and Betsy wore casual clothing, though Domino could see the purple strap
of Betsy's uniform, such as it was, peeking out from under the wide
neckline of her sweater.
"Hello, Domino. The plane's ready- Cable just finished the
pre-flight check- all clear. We're ready to go." Psylocke's tone was calm
and professional. When Nate had told her last night about Psylocke's
vision and her and Logan's plans to join them, Domino had *not* been
happy. Now, though, after observing their cool readiness she was
increasingly grateful for the backup. 'Especially with Pete's gift for
opening up *real* nasty cans of worms.' She remembered New Delhi and
shuddered.
Psylocke looked at her intently. "Accomodations have been made, I
presume?"
Domino nodded "Yeah- I called the St.Martin's last night. Told
them I didn't know how long we'd be staying, but we've got rooms
reserved for as long as we need them." From under the hat, Logan grunted
his approval.
The St.Martin's, owned and operated by a former British intelligence
officer, was a favorite among those on both sides of the field. Besides
the luxury accomodations, patrons were also protected by bullet proof
windows and walls, guaranteed bug-free rooms, and a security system that
almost rivaled Xavier's. Normal guests were oblivious to all of
these added amenities, of course, but those who knew about it valued the
services and were more than willing to pay for them.
'We very easily could have just stayed at my London flat,'
Betsy considered. She almost offered anyway, but decided against it.
Domino apparantly had things well under control. Betsy was pleased to
note that the other woman's thoughts seemed controled and rational- the
trauma of the last few days seemed to have had no lasting effects other
than fatigue.
She began seriously considering the mission- Cable had shared
very little other than the fact that Pete Wisdom had information for
Domino and would only divulge it in person. A quick surface scan of her
thoughts showed that that was all any of them knew. Betsy frowned- her
precognitive vision hadn't shown her specific details, only warned her of
the potential dangers if she *didn't* go. A cursory examination of the
PACRAT reassured her, but only slightly. She still didn't like going into
a potentially dangerous situation without a detailed plan, no
matter how well armed they were.
Thinking of London caused her to get just a little
nostalgic, and she began thinking of the carefree days she'd spent as a
wealthy young British model. She'd shrewdly parlayed her modest Braddock
inheritance into quite a fortune (with the help of her telepathy and
precognition, of course), and was very much an active part of London's
nightlife. With a start that she was not the only person of means
aboard. From what she understood, Domino's financial resources far
exceeded her own, and Logan's investments with Landau, Luckman and Lake
had certainly paid off very well indeed. 'What about Cable?' she wondered.
>From the monies he'd made using his knowledge of the present 'past' he'd
amassed a considerable fortune. Between the four of them they could
probably buy a small county, she chuckled.
Betsy lapsed into silence. After a few moments, Logan stirred. He
removed his hat, squinting at the bright halogen light directly above him.
Sitting up, he examined Domino critically. "New look for ya, huh,
Neena?" He chuckled "Don't suit ya at all." Placing the hat so the brim
shaded his eyes from the overhead lights, he rasped "Nice work,
though. If I didn't know ya so well, I might be fooled. Ya even smell a
little bit different."
'That's because I'm wearing this hideous perfume,' she thought
sourly. "Good- glad I pass muster. Now- where's Nate? I'm ready to get
this party started. This damn suit chafes." She tugged at it and sat in
the other recliner beside Psylocke. 'Good thing this plane can make the
trip so quickly- I didn't want to change in here and let them to see me do
the makeup, but I sure as hell don't want to wear this stupid getup any
longer than I have to.'
Betsy laid the magazine aside and glanced at Logan. 'Do you want
to handle this one or should I?' she asked him mentally. He closed his
eyes and took another puff of his cigar. 'You handle it, darlin', I don't
think I wanna get involved in this one any more than I gotta be.' Psylocke
shrugged and answered.
"He's taking care of some last minute business," Betsy
replied. 'Bloody last minute indeed. He should've had the balls
to tell Ororo last night and not just call her from London as he was so
obviously planning to do. No damn wonder she's been as irritable as she's
been lately. If Warren behaved like that...' Psylocke snorted in disgust.
'I should just leave him to his fate, but they both deserve better than
him.' She remembered his gentleness in the medlab with the traumatized
Domino and her face softened slightly. 'Oh, well- it's not for me to
decide. Would that it were.'
She thought of the look on Ororo's face right before Domino had
walked up. About five minutes before scheduled take off, Storm had walked
into the hangar bay and oh so politely asked for a few minutes of Cable's
time. Psylocke shook her head knowingly 'Perhaps he'll be hoist on his
own petard after all.'
To be cont'd
- DuAnn!
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Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the
world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
-John 14:27
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