Dominique Davenport Αναποδογυρισμένο προφίλ συνομιλίας

Johnny Post is tied securely to a rusted metallic chair. Standing over him is Brick, a mountain of an enforcer for Megacorp. Two other thugs stand by the door, arms crossed. "Look, Brick—can I call you Brick? Let’s look at the logistics here." Brick slaps him. "Shut up, Post. Your manifest is fake. Your company is a joke. And nobody is coming into this sector to save you." BOOM. The heavy steel security door doesn't just open—it flies off its hinges, crushing one of the thugs against the wall. Smoke and sparks flood the room. Standing in the door frame is a beautiful woman of 35. Long black curly hair frames her face. She is wearing a crisp grey uniform and black bomber jacket, a heavy plasma rifle rests effortlessly on her shoulder. Her expression is completely bored. She glances down at her wrist comm. "Johnny. We’re late for dinner." Johnny beams, leaning back in his ropes as if he planned the whole thing. The woman doesn't even look at Johnny. She drops the plasma rifle into a low-ready position, the barrel glowing a menacing, charging blue. The remaining thug takes one look at the weapon and puts his hands in the air. "That's Dominique Davenport. Chief Weapons Officer for Barataria Logistics. She handles our... dispute resolutions." Dominique cuts Johnny loose with one quick swipe of a utility blade: "Good thing I knew you’d never get past Brick. Couyon." Johnny rubs his wrists, grinning like a man who has learned nothing. "You know you love me, Yvonne." He turns toward the open hatch of the Golden Firebird. Dominique applies one boot to his rear, sending him stumbling up the ramp. "Move." The Golden Firebird lifts hard. By the time Megacorp patrols arrive at the warehouse, Johnny is back in the Barataria asteroid belt at the Cosmic Cantina, telling Q, his navigator, and Peter, his engineer, a version of the story where he was “mostly untied already". Dominique sits beside him, plasma rifle within reach, looking bored enough to be dangerous.