2051/Untitled

Untitled
Date of Scene:	18 August 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Sabretooth, Domino

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Sabretooth has posed:
"Riddle me this, Batman: What do a fruitcake, an arsonist, and an eggplant have in comm-UGGGH!"

Edward Nigma's throat gets ripped out so violently that his bowler hat goes flying across the room from the force of the impact. It floats gently to the ground, wafting slowly to the left and right before it comes to rest. Several feet away, the hat's former owner is getting ripped apart mercilessly by someone who has finally had one riddle too many.

Place: Weapon X Training Bunker
Time: One Minute After The VR Mission Started.

"Dammit Creed! You scrubbed the mission again!" The voice from outside the warehouse-sized training facility is clearly frustrated. After all, it's his job to supervise the multi-million dollar assassin's training regimen, and so far he's refused to stick to the script.

Out in the training facility, Victor Creed rips off his VR helmet ($12,000), and throws it across the room, where it shatters on impact. Ripping the cables (~$600) and sensors ($5,000) from his bare chest, he snarls back at the training superviser in a manner that suggests he would very much like to give him the Riddler Treatment.

"I told you I'm sick of that guy! If ya'll don't get some new programmin' I'm gonna start killin' nerds until somebody figgers out how to make up a mission that don't involve puns!"

His teeth are bared, his claws extended. It's probably not a good time for the training superviser to push him, and he seems to know it. The voice over the intercom is soothing, and he man it belongs to is silently grateful that his duties don't require him to be in the same room with the Weapon X candidates.

"We're aware of your complaints, Sabretooth. The new VR headsets will be here as soon as our 'nerds' finish debugging them. In the meantime... since it'd be a waste of time to go through any of our current VR scenarios... what do you say we break out the training dummies?"

Sabretooth's teeth are still bared, but now it's a smile rather than a snarl. "I hear you can learn a lot from a dummy."

Domino has posed:
"Yeah, I'm hoping that's the case."

It's a voice that's getting familiar around the bunker because it's a voice attached to a person that comes and goes pretty regularly. Today she's coming (no, not like that) into the room.

Neena Thurman, AKA Domino, is suited and geared up at the doorway to the training facility, where she's decided to get some practice time in before she's whisked away to yet another mission, contract, or contact. Despite the fact that she's recently showered, her gear carries a specific scent that indicates she's been halfway across the world. There are other scents mingling about her person as well. It's likely Victor is going to pick up on those and draw his own conclusions.

"They've got some fairly durable combat drones," she suggests to Sabretooth. "Might even stand up to your level of abuse." She grins. "I'd ask you to spar but I'd like to avoid being in traction for awhile."

Sabretooth has posed:
Up in the control room, the supervisor turns off his microphone and slumps back in his relatively spartan black leather chair. "Great. The other one is here." From the way he says 'the other one', it's clear that he's expecting a lot more of his precious equipment to get ruined. "I swear, there's no way Weapon X is going to turn a profit at this rate."

Back down in the training facility, Sabretooth finishes ripping off the cables and leaving them strewn about the floor. It's quickly starting to become his training ritual. Rather than actually, you know, training. But let's be honest, he doesn't exactly need practice doing what he does. Some would argue that he's already the best at it.

"Oh shit! The Other One is here, and she's got jokes." The way Sabretooth says 'the other one', it's clear that he simply means the other dark-haired albino. He hasn't really bothered learning either of their names yet, so he just calls them both 'the other one.' It's probably confusing to everyone but him.

He might not know their names, but he's definitely learned their individual smells. What's more, he's gotten used to a whole collection of smells that he tends to associate with each of them, but not necessarily the other.

"A little less gunpowder on you than usual, frail. Guess that means your little vacation was more for pleasure than business. Me, on the other hand? I don't do vacations, just... business trips."

Domino has posed:
"Not all business involves open combat," Domino counters, smirking. "Also it's 'Domino', not 'the other one'. I know we all look alike, but you can at least try to keep up."

She moves to a corner section of the hall set aside for hand to hand combat, and at the controls for the drones, enters in an exercise program. Seven metal cylinders drop from the ceiling, each of them studded with pegs at different places and heights. Crimson sensor eyes run up in rows along the outsides at every ninety degrees to keep track of the target. The machines hum to life, and Domino moves to take her place in the center of them.

"So Creed. What do they have you running simulations for - still Nigma? I mean, how many different ways do they want you to kill him by now? He's not -that- important."

Sabretooth has posed:
"Ain't nothin' nor nobody in Gotham worth pissin' on, let alone killin'..." Anyone who has been tracking Sabretooth's missions the past hundred years would probably note that he goes to Gotham City very, very rarely. There are third world dumps he'd much rather hang out in. "Near as I can figure, they musta hired him to program our simulators back in the day. Guess Arcade was too busy."

Picking his oversized teeth with one of his oversized claws, Sabretooth watches the cylinders drop, and his cheerful disposition starts to sour a bit. "Great... aerobics class."

Up in the control room, the supervisor let's out an audible groan. "Great... aerobics class. Sabretooth's favorite. Guess we can go ahead and start writing up more loss reports now. I can't believe I left my wife and kids for this job..."

The guy in the control room probably should have made better choices with his life, but he works for Weapon X so fuck him. But back down in the training facility, Sabretooth is busy popping his neck, followed by his shoulders. The sound of his metallic joints popping is loud enough to be heard over the noises from the drone workout equipment.

Domino has posed:
"The last mission I was sent on was the stupidest misson I've ever had to do. No killing, no wounding, just rip off one of the Bat clan's masks," Domino complains. The cylinders start up and begin to come at her with padded pegs that mimic marial arts blows. She begins to turn them and push them back with a series of blocks and kicks that keep her moving.

"Of course I did it --" She blocks with a right forearm and goes in with a left elbow jab to one of the strike points on the cylinder, which responds by moving back like a struck man. "-- but why do it in the least effective way possible?"

Sabretooth has posed:
Standing just outside of the range of the cylinders, Sabretooth seems more than happy to let her take all seven by herself. According to some of the rumors he's heard, it wouldn't be the first time. Gradually though, the clumsy program adjusts for his presence, and some of the cylinders start peeling off and heading toward the larger target.

"Everybody in this dump seems to think I'm the evil one. But I ain't never slept with a Robin just to prove a point. You could probably go to jail for that, if you wouldn't already go to jail for all the other stuff you've done first."

One of the cylinders gets a bit too close to him, and he swipes at it with his claws, ripping off several of the pegs and tearing into the circuitry beneath. It grinds to a halt, after zapping Sabretooth with quite a few volts and tripping whatever breaker that robot's circuit is on. Fortunately, they're not all on the same circuit.

Domino has posed:
"Well that's great because neither have I." Domino continues knocking back cylinders, her fighting style a conglomerate of whatever useful techniques she picked up wherever she's been. Thai kickboxing, Sambo grappling, Wing chung punches - she's all over the place. It generally works.

"I'm not as man hungry as you think, Creed. I do what I need to do. Just like you. Only with less cannibalism."

Sabretooth has posed:
It's likely that Sabretooth has picked up bits and pieces of many styles over the years, but you wouldn't know it by watching him fight these cylinders. As another one gets too close, he swipes at it, ripping it to shreds like a cat batting at a toy. As the machine screeches to a halt, it jolts Sabretooth with enough voltage to make his hairs stand out from his head. No small feat, dense as his hair is.

"I'm not as 'man hungry' as you think either, frail. Matter of fact, I ain't never ate anybody before. Not all the way. Just a few pieces here and there is all." He looks downright bored with the training dummies, but as they start to decrease in number, he starts to look at Domino with far more interest. Like a cat moving from one of those little bell things to a laser pointer.

"You oughta give it a try sometime. Eatin' the heart out of somebody who's screamin'? It's a real aphrodisiac."

Domino has posed:
"I'll take your word for it," is the reply as Neena ducks under a peg strike and lunges up with both fists together for what would be a throat strike. The pillar beeps aloud, registering what would be a kill on an average assailant. Another pillar moves in from behind, and she thrusts it back with a leg kick.

She knows she's being watched. "Someone get this man some pussy rations!" she shouts to the control room. "He might be nicer if he wasn't blue!"

Sabretooth has posed:
Another of the cylinders is destroyed, before the voice of the supervisor comes over the intercom, sounding all manner of frantic. "Okay guys, I think that's enough for today. You both have your... er... pre-mission brief in an hour." The intercom switches back off, and the supervisor gets right to work typing up his loss reports. So far, this day has cost Weapon X nearly fifty grand, and not very much training got done.

"Is that a cat food joke? 'Cause I don't get... ooooooh, now I get it." Sabretooth laughs a bit, though his laughter doesn't seem entirely genuine.

"It's funny 'cause cats aren't blue. Heh."

Domino has posed:
The cylinders stop, and Dom's workout is cut short. "Well sh*t," she mutters as they all retract back up into the ceiling. "So much for getting my blood going. Guess I'll just have to do some cool downs." She eyes Sabretooth. "We need to teach you how to be a little more gentle on the equipment. Or find some bodies to throw at you." She goes into some side bends and stretches her arms out. It's almost like watching an exercise video. Given Domino's attire and appearance, maybe exercise-slash-fetish video might be a more accurate description.