<div class="floatleft">(http://mimg.ugo.com/200906/22909/cuts/domino_288x288.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name/Alias:</strong>Domino<br/><strong>Origin:</strong>Breeding<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Weapon Locker<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Deadpool and Captain America<br/><hr/><br/><br/>The door opened as if by some magical decree.  Weaponry spread out before her eyes in a glistening display of raw power.  Eyes immediately noticed the difference between these instruments of war and the ones she was used to.  The firing mechanism and ammunition feeds were completely different.  There did not seem to be any place for either to operate.  Lips became wet from the press of her tongue, those black painted tiers folding into a thin line with thought.  Eyes widened in shock at what would be placed in her hand.  Particle weapons, the kind she had read about and heard rumors about in the small circle back home.  Fingers suddenly moved up to grasp the outfit she had been given in the briefing room, scooping the clothing from the floor before marching into the vault.<br/><br/><strong>“Oh we have hit the motherload!  Hell yes!”</strong><br/><br/>She could hardly keep her feet on the floor.  The heavy leather jacket was tossed aside with her muscle shirt soon to follow.  A simple sports bra was all she wore across her top now while gun displays were opened at the command of her finger.  The black material stretched over the white expanse of her back, allowing an almost unimpeded view of the line of muscles there.  Athletic and toned, her body moved from case to case in a businesslike fashion.  Weapons were lined up for her purview and selection, fingers greedily moving over the handle of each to test their weight and mechanisms.  Without even a thought of the two men in the room she turned about, almost ignoring them while her boots and pants came off next.<br/><br/>The bottoms were simple panties of matching black against her white flesh.  One hand went down to adjust the band of the underwear while she continued to move about the confines of the vault.  Her body was soon to be found leaning over the table at the center.  The legs of a runner flexed as her weight shifted on them, her breasts pressed together while her elbows dug into the table.  Domino’s bottom lifted upward while she examined the pistols before her.  A couple of submachine gun type instruments also rested on the counter.  Her lower lip was now sucked between her teeth as she stood in consideration.<br/><br/><strong>“What you think Mouth?  You know much about the stopping power of these?”</strong>