Hoods & Capes | IC

[Mobley Eats]

Nellie King


Location: Ma's Diner
Interactions: Night Watcher @Seductress
Status: Rage Mode - ACTIVATED

Ah, so the trio were in. Locked and loaded with firearms, squared off against a trio as well. This match up... was damn unique, that was for sure. Nellie was tempted to sneak some tea from the kitchen, slide back into her seat, and watch the show unfold. But, again, she had to keep her tabs on the fourth individual in the car--

"You know."

Please... God, no. Please no. Not right now.

"I'm really not the biggest fan of that attitude thing you do. The moment someone says anything, that stupid little eye roll you do changes you from some big Iron Nerd into a high tech, super powered bitch. That's what you can call her Blair, Super Bitch. Watch out! There's a new hero in town! Super bitch!"

Huh... Guess I'm committing homicide today.

Every muscle in Nellie's body tensed, her attention completely ripped from the man in the car. Ever so slowly, she pivoted in her seat, turning to face Conner with a blank yet frigid stare. A moment of silence settled over the booth like a thick blanket, so thick that an elephant could choke on it.

A chuckle escaped her, one of pure disbelief, but so short and chopped that it barely had a chance to live before she sobered up a fraction of a heartbeat later. "Holy... fucking... shit," she breathed, "Are you? Are you fucking serious right now? Are you even real? Oh no! My attitude! My mean little tone of voice, what're we gonna fucking do!" Her voice shot up a few octaves, emotion creeping into her tone like a venomous snake. If she had any hold on her composure before hand, then the wave of red rushing into her face clearly indicated that was no longer the case. What in the actual fuck was this dude's problem? "You're gonna fucking sit there and LECTURE me about teamwork?! Bitch! I've been doing nothing but teamwork! No, no. Wait. Hold on, lemme just fuckin--"

Nostrils flaring, Nellie started ticking off one item at a time with her fingers. First came the index. "I show up to see your ass getting chucked around pinball style, getting your ass thoroughly whooped into the sixth fucking dimension. Who showed up and pinned the fat fuck so you could pound him in? Who gave you a fucking makeshift weapon to send him flying homerun?" Middle finger. "Who helped guide people to safety when shit got dangerous? Huh? After YOU fucking asked me to? You know, LIKE A FUCKING GOODY TWO SHOES TEAMMATE??" Then the ring. "Oh--hey! Let's not forget about the goddamn grenade that was gonna blow us away to kingdom come! But who gives a fuck if I had to eat that fucking explosion face first while using the last of my fucking energy to protect the others! FUCK ME RIGHT? Right! Oh--don't let me forget though!" She threw both arms up. "God, my attitude was SO fucked when you decided to chuck us around in a GODDAMN car and risk breaking our bones cuz you can't deal with a dipshit for two minutes! Didn't matter if we could've broken a few fucking bones in the process! Nope! Not at fucking all! FUCK US!"

She closed her fingers into a fist and with a flourish of the wrist, threw a whopping middle finger into Conner's face. "Fuck! You!"

Nellie's breathing was so heavy that it could rival a bull. Seeing red. And hyped up on steroids.

 

[Seductress]

"Okay, okay," Conner raised his hands, shaking his head. "You can't blame me for that car incident, if you were actually awake you'd know what I had to put up with," Conner picked his coffee cup, placing it beside him on the table. "It ain't easy being the leader around here, especially not when I have to deal with the angsty teenager in an iron deficient body. But congratulations! You understand what it means to work as a team, we need to make sacrifices in these times of unjust lawlessness." Ah, crap, here it comes. The speech.

Anyone who knew Conner has heard the speech a thousand times before. It was more of a signature for him than pie, or jumping into fire, or not looking before he leaps. These randomly generated speeches seem to just come to him, he can't help it. "A wise man once told me," He began, scanning through a mental list of movie quotes. Are you talkin' to me? We're gonna need a bigger boat. Welcome, to Jurassic Park. "With great power, comes great responsibility. Now I didn't understand what that meant, because I was a kid when my uncle Ben said that to me. But I can tell you what it doesn't mean; it doesn't mean being the wicked bitch of the East every time someone opens their mouths."

His hand scooped up the small little plate, holding it there loosely between his thumb and pointer finger. "I am trying my best over here, there are things that I can't handle on my own. Do you think those people would still be alive if it weren't for us all showing up? They're grateful for the fact that you showed up, so you need to be grateful for your powers, and the rest of us for encouraging you to use them. Without us, you'd probably be one of those people who got burned alive because, let's be honest, you're not the sharpest tool in the shed." This almost caused Conner to break character and laugh, it seemed like less of a lesson to him, and more of a way to see how thick her skin was.

"Do you think Lady Justice would approve of that language? As a T E A M we have to use inclusive language that doesn't affect any of our self esteem. I know for a fact that I'm feeling pretty hurt tight now, Blair? Are you feeling hurt by Nelson's actions? I think you should take this time to apologize to us, Iron Dweed, because I'm really not liking your attitude."

 

[KatSea]

Blair Whittaker - Activate Pissed Mother Energy

Blair hadn't drank alcohol in almost two years. She hadn't touched the substance and had no molecule in her body dared to latch onto the depressant for fear of humiliation or exhaustion. In this moment, however, Blair could have chugged down a few shots and soothed her nerves that bla(i)red with irritation. Yep. There were robbers. There were robbers, and a scorching man, and a teeny tiny fairy that Blair honestly thought was due to the fact she died in the car a few hours ago and was somehow planted in hell. God, why? I thought I did a decent job as a human being. Bless me with patience to not rip out someone's hair today, amen. Also, please, I don't want to clean up blood from the tile. Not Ma's or the customers. I'm genuinely worried these two are gonna pummel each other.

Slamming the palms of her hands onto the table in front of her, she huffed out, breath visible as her teeth chattered with barely restrained irritation. "You know, Conner, I love you and...Nellie, here, but this isn't exactly keeping your poker face." With a discreet flick of her wrist, a thin sheet of ice decorated the floor behind one robber, and soon the same hand came to cradle her temple. "If you two are going to continue bickering back and forth like children than I will handle it myself. With the help of...Tinkerbell? The Golden Dude an- you know what." She waved her hands, several icicles threatening to shatter to the table below. "Both of you change your attitude this instant, or someone in here could get shot and both of you know that. You two are heroes, goddamn it, save your bickering and quips for the bad guys. At least then you two are actually doing your jobs, caphice?" Another flick of the wrist, discreet as it rested against her hip, and one of the robber's foot was frosted to the floor.

Damn, getting out of the house was supposed to save me this sort of behavior. It's fine, it's fine. Just...a long damn day. And now robbers. Alright. I get it. I get it. I think I'm getting a little peeved too...

Raising herself up and crossing her arms, she squinted at the two of them. "You know, it would have been better for you two to get your rage off you know, these three dickwads over there, and instead you waste time and direct it at each other. I think our associates over there have this covered by now...but go on, you still feel pissed off? Aim it at those three." She jabbed her thumb behind her, not minding to even swivel her head to get a good look. "Now, you two, either grow a pair of balls and do your jobs, or bicker another time when lives aren't at stake."

 

[Mobley Eats]

Nellie King


Location: Ma's Diner
Interactions: Robbers, Night Watcher @Seductress, & Snowfall @KatSea
Status: Over the Bullshit

This. Son. Of. A. Bitch. Was. Dead. Fucking. Meat.

The snarl splitting Nellie's lips was so ferocious that it could make Satan piss his pants. What sort of hypocritical high horse was this dude riding on? Some of the fiery passion had ebbed out of her system after hitting the peak of her emotions, but her voice was still chilled with fury. When she spoke, the words could just barely squeeze through her teeth. "Great. Cool. So every time you pull random and stupid shit like this, I can't blame you. It's just brain farts. Right. Have fun with your Unlimited Get Out Free card--dipshit."

Aaaaand now Blair was pissed. Yayyyy, this was just a wholesome little rage-fest, wasn't it? Nellie had tuned out the anything else Conner had to say; at this point, enough of her anger had cleared for her to realize that conversing with this overgrown idiot was a waste of breath. And time. And just... everything. Instead, she just stared the man down with the absolute promise of Death in her eyes, mouth tightly clamped shut as Blair launched into a tirade of her own.

Christ--why in the hell was she talking them like she was their mother? What reality was she trapped in? And to think she ordered extra cherry and mousse pie for her--what for? Why in the actual fuck did she do that to begin with? To be friendly? Nellie... You stupid, naive, bitch. You don't get to have those. You fucking know that!

She fucking knew that.

So why in the world was she...?

It didn't matter. All of this yelling and introspection and questioning was a waste of energy. Nellie cut a sharp look in Blair's direction from her peripherals, her nose twitching from how hard she was trying to suppress a growl. "Fine. You want me to help? Here." She looked back at Conner, gathering a steady stream of iron on the back of her tongue. She spat and a spiked pellet of blood ejected from her mouth like a bullet from the chamber, just barely skimming Conner's cheek. It ripped a whole clean through the kneecap of the same robber Blair had frozen in place before arcing back around to slice clean through his ankle. The foot remained, but it was nowhere near attached to the man's leg.

Hero... Fuck that noise. She didn't fit the bill of a hero--Nellie did what she needed to do, up until she could sever the doctor's head from his shoulders. That was it. Silently fuming, she propped her elbow on the table, resting her cheek against her fist. As if her blood pressure wasn't rising enough already, this entire pointless argument now had her veins straining, the tiniest onset of aches blossoming throughout her body. Great. Thirty six hours officially dropped down to ten. Twelve, if she was lucky. "Let's just get this over with," she grumbled.

 

[Ragamoofin]

[Synergizer.]

Location: Ma's Diner.

[Hmm.]
​

"Ah-" Anselle's fork bumped into his cheek, muscles along his neck out of his control and turning abruptly, crumbles of pie falling down into his lap. "What the- Syn, what are you-" Eye twitching as he forced his neck to turn back, Anselle made a clipped noise of surprise when his head went pivoting back. "Syn, please, there's people around." Brow furrowing, Anselle's eyes darted about. God, he couldn't imagine how this looked...

Synergizer made a noise in his head.

[I'm aware. They're...]
​

Without much choice in the matter, Anselle let his eyes roll towards what Synergizer was trying to look at. His eyebrow rose at the seated trio that had came in. "Ordering day-old pie? Maybe some of those weird mousses?" Anselle offered, to the distinct sensation of dissatisfaction from his bodymate.

[Different.]
​

Anselle had to roll his eyes, feeling control slip back to him enough to be able to shake his head, looking away from the trio. "Everyone's different, Syn," Anselle explained simply, picking up his fork again, quickly scooping up a bite before his other half had the chance to foil it. "We can't exactly throw stones."

[My point exactly.]​

Jaw coming to a loose stop, Anselle took a few quick blinks, chewing over more than his bite at that bit of information, as vague as it was; the implication was clear enough for Anselle to give the trio another, sneaking glance. Swallowing hard, the bite went down his suddenly dry throat. "Y-you mean-"

[The temperature at that table dropped well below freezing just a moment ago, yet none of them reacted adversely to this.]
​

Anselle blinked rapidly. "Below freezing...whoa. Whoa, that means-!"

[I suspect one of them possesses cryokinetic abilities. I would like to test this.]
​

Anselle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, now carefully eyeing each of the trio, spending a long while staring into their faces. "What are you thinking?"

[The coffee they serve at this diner, at its initial pouring, is well above adequate temperature to burn flesh."
​

Anselle's eyes went huge, looking away from the group at once. "Syn, where is this going...?"

[Order some, get close to them, at throw it at each of them. The cryokinetic will likely freeze the coffee, revealing them.]
​

Anselle's mouth fell open, expression one of absolute shock. "What about the other two?"

[What about them?]
​

Hand sliding over his mouth, Anselle stared ahead, unsure of what to say for a moment. "Syn, there's no way in Hell I'm doing that."

[Would've been fun, but-]
​

Anselle waited for Synergizer to finish, cocking his head when the silence continued. "Syn, you okay?"

[There's a presence here, right there-]
​

Anselle's head snapped towards the doors leading towards the kitchen, heart jumping to his throat at the urgency in Synergizer's tone. "Oh, God, please don't be evil-!" Anselle's eyes raced towards the bright and growing outline of yellow around the door's frame. By reflex, Anselle's arms crossed over his face. Even behind his arms, eyelids and every bit of willpower he could muster, Anselle could fully escape the encompassing glow that burst from behind the doors. He was expecting heat, fire, maybe for his skin just to explode off like in that old movie about the killer robot from the future - but all he felt was warmth.

[Anselle.]
​

Seconds had passed, and that blanketing glow hadn't abated, and he also hadn't immediately died, so that was a plus. In fact, he felt positively...charged.

[Open your eyes.]
​

Slowly, he lowered his arms, let the tension in his shoulders bleed out enough to untense, eyes still cautiously shut against the light he could feel crashing into him. A constant shower of warmth, a strange heat feeling his bones, radiating through his muscles, body drawing the light within himself.

Anselle's eyes cracked open, slowly peeking wider until he was gawking at the floating being, golden light shining from him like the Sun. Then the guy winked at him, and - floated on.

Then, over his shoulder, flew on a small - butterfly? It was oddly reminiscent of that other old movie, of eternal youth, fairies and a green-clad treasure hunter.

God, he watched a lot of old movies.

Anselle caught a lavender wisp next to his head, eyes racing to it, blowing wide when he realized he'd unleashed his own glow - burning like a pyre around him, an incandescent fuschia surrounded him, braids floating around his head; his clothes floated about him, his aura always brought an odd weightlessness.

"Whoa..." Anselle breathed, turning his hands around, staring into his palms, watching his aura ebb over his skin. Streaming, dancing collisions of purple and pink, washing over him like a fluid corona. "That's one way to power up."

[That energy...what could it be?]
​

Shoulders rolling, Anselle shrugged, feeling the energy sink deeper, enriching every cell in its path. "Don't know, not exactly an energy expert." Looking towards the glowing man and his tiny company, Anselle's eyes wandered to the trio and - oh, they were having quite the shouting match.

A lot was said, a lot Anselle wasn't comfortable repeating and a lot he couldn't quite understand. From the sound of it, these people lived some pretty wild lives. Hopefully they could figure that out, back to the lightshow. He'd gone to confront - armed would-be robbers, shotguns by the looks of it, masked and - under attack. Anselle's eyes caught the frost that gathered at one of the men's feet - and that man promptly lost that foot, and his knee.

[That person has sustained a critical injury.]
​

"You think?!" Anselle's voice rose into a high-pitched squeak, breaking into a sprint, a luminescent trail in his wake. Anselle's stomach turned at the sight of blood, severed, frozen bone and a knee that looked more like swiss cheese than anything belonging on the human body. It looked worse the closer he got to the screaming, writhing, most likely in shock man. Anselle's burning gaze settled on the one responsible for the injury, and if looks could kill, she'd be incinerated.

Unconcerned by the very close presence of the other two men, Anselle stood in front of the injured man - Anselle was a visage of apparent rage, light rising into a wicking plume of what looked to be fire. Anselle stuck out his hand, his aura welling at his fingertips, the robber cowering under him.

"This won't take long," Anselle said quietly, trying to comfort the man. A surge spread from Anselle's head, traveling down into his shoulders, flooding through his arm until his hand was lost to the concentration of firelight. With a flick of his wrist, Anselle had the man consumed by the light. And then there was a scream, Anselle's face impassive as he kept up the steady stream, bathing the man in his violet glow.

The light quickly began to shrink back into the man's skin, his features, clothes - all intact and and surprisingly not immolated. It seemed the man himself came to realize this as the light traveled down his body, bright and racing through his limbs, towards the one he was currently missing. His blown out knee was blanketed in light, peeling back together, popping back into place as the light flowed down into his bleeding stump; the blood stopped as the stump began to stretch out, quickly forming into the outline of a foot made in light.

Anselle's hand fell to his side as his light faded from the man's body - whole body, foot fully regrown; the flesh was strangely lighter than the rest, as if the blood had yet to rush into it.

"And we're done," Anselle breathed, feeling much better now than, you know, no one was in danger of bleeding out. Anselle pointed to the foot still frozen to the floor. "I don't know what you're gonna do about that, though." Anselle couldn't bring himself to look at it a second time, not without shivering.

Hand poised towards the floating, golden man, Anselle felt his energy flow through his arm. "Not sure what you do, but I'm game to find out, Golden Boy!" With that, Anselle's hand gently touched the floating man's back, drawing back with a luminescent beam connecting them.

The effect would've been instantaneous; a sudden burst of potential inside of the golden man, of power growing, his abilities enriched to their sharpest by the bond.

 

[Mobley Eats]

Nellie King


Location: Ma's Diner
Interactions: None
Status: Bitterly Nostalgic

Flashback
Time: Eight Years Ago
Location: Kings Mansion


"Millie?"

Winter rolled through the Kings Mansion like a tsunami; along with the distinct chill came the silence of snowfall, the outside world wrapped in a thick blanket of white, decorated the acres of land in the most simplistic yet artful ardor imaginable. There was, in Nellie's opinion, an undeniable peace to it.

"Millie. You awake?"

And with that peace, it'd be insane to overlook the slumber it could promise. After a lavish dinner of orange marmalade quail, sauteed mixed vegetables and a succulent candied yams casserole, everyone settled in for the night.

Except for Nellie. It was barely a half hour past ten and she felt a rare spike in wellness tonight. No fatigue. No nausea. No discomfort whatsoever. There was no way she could stare a gem in the face and not indulge in it a little, especially not without her little sister.

Nellie risked another glance down the expansive corridors before knocking again. Her voice hitched ever so slightly, straining to reach ears on the other side. "Milliiiiie. Come on, I know you're up."

A moment of silence. It lasted much longer than she thought and, for the shortest moment, she believed her sister was actually asleep--

Shuffling. So faint. So fleeting. But it might as well have been an earthquake in Nellie's ears. Instantly, a grin pulled at the teen's lips and she pressed her cheek flush to wood, changing up her knock into something rhythmic. She slapped on the best Anna impression she could muster. "Millie? ...Do you wanna drink a milkshake~?" Her grin turned downright impish. "Come on, let's go and play. I never see you anymore. Come out the door. It's like you've gone--"

The door swung open.

It revealed what could only be the living version of a doll. She just barely skimmed a height of four feet, rich chocolate waves dwarfing her already petite frame and reaching her lower back. A pair of big doe eyes matching in color looked up at Nellie, pinning her big sister down with a strangely calculative but fond expression. Her button nose scrunched up, unimpressed. "I hate that song," she said.

Nellie grinned, then shrugged. "You love the movie, though."

"I love Olaf."

"Right, right," Nellie nodded, then added under her breath, "Only cuz he got impaled and laughed about it." Some more emotion managed to weasel its way through the cracks of Millie's mask. Mirth. Amusement. An unapologetic breed.

"It's cool. We would die, but he had fun with it--"

"Hoookay," Nellie chuckled nervously, "I get it. You feeling up to a late night shake?"

Millie's eyes lit up like city lights on Christmas Eve. "Always." Like clockwork, her arms raised and she waited expectantly. Nellie was more than happy to oblige; flashing a soft grin, she scooped Millie up into her arms, wobbling a little at first before adjusting her grip.

"Ugh," Nellie lamented overdramatically, "Gawd--you're getting heavier every day. Do you even lift, bro?"

Millie unleashed a giggle, but it was airy and a tad subdued. It did nothing to smother the glee in her eyes, however, and it was more than enough for Nellie. The King siblings took their time descending the long spiral staircase, the elder taking her sweet time to count each step verbally. Millie never allowed herself to reach the first floor without tallying the steps, claiming that a change in the total could happen at any moment.

"Thirty one… thirty two… annnnnd," With a little hop, Nellie's feet met the floorboards and she offered Millie a triumphant smile. "Thirty three! Same as always." Without much thought, a thumb skimmed the young girl's cheek, caressing the beauty mark rested just below her eye. Of course, in retaliation, Millie grimaced and bit the offending finger, though it was barely hard enough to stir up any pain.

"Don't do that."

"Charliiiiiie," Nellie whined, "You bit my fingah!"

"We're not British."

"Hey, you saying I sound British? ...Cuz that's a huge honor; I've been working on my voice and everything." Satisfied, Nellie pointedly ignored her sister's eye roll and made her way to the kitchen. It was sizable, perhaps large enough to host three cocktail parties at once and holding appliances that gleamed as exquisitely as it did the day they were ordered. Mom fretted over cleanup of the kitchen, more so than the rest of King Mansion, and would spiral into a self-inflicted panic if she spotted a single speck of dust. Finicky, but she always meant well.

Nellie sat Millie atop the island counter, then turned around to busy herself with pulling out the ingredients needed. Milk, vanilla ice cream, whipped cream… Huh, where did she last put--

"Seventh door to your left," Millie muttered while intensely studying her fingers. Each little digit carefully tapped against one another, the intervals stiff yet perfectly timed. A soft shade of pink invaded her cheeks from deep concentration.

"Oh… Doi, I knew that." Nellie chuckled sheepishly and shuffled over to the cabinet in question, retracting the can of fluffy goodness. In comparison to higher levels of the mansion, it was a bit chillier than what was considered comfortable for her. Her low blood count was hellish to deal with; even with her rare spike in health, it didn't stop the shivers from seizing her limbs hostage. No matter. The teen just ignored it to the best of her ability and started scooping ice cream into the blender. She tossed a glance over her shoulder at Millie, who was still counting away at her little fingertips. "It's ten, Millie. Promise."

"Just checking." The young girl's response came quickly, her breath thin and rushed. She refused to stop tallying.

"Mills…" Nellie swallowed back a sigh and approached her once more, locking gazes. Slowly, gently, ever so cautiously, she pried her sister's hands from one another, then pressed their fingertips together. Ten digits aligned to ten smaller ones. "Count with me, kay? One…" She trailed off, waiting patiently for Millie's mind to detangle itself and catch up with reality. The moment it did, she studied their joined hands like an ancient map.

Her voice was small.

"One…"

Nellie's shoulders lightened with relief. "Two."

"Two."

"Three."

"Th… Three…"

And so the counting continued. All the way up to ten. The ice cream turned into a lukewarm puddle on the counter, but it didn't matter. They had all night.

---

Time: Present

Nellie refused to budge a single inch as she watched the show unfold. This was dumb.

When in the hell could she get her vanilla milkshake?

 

[Cwispy]

Firefly laughed. It was bellyful and buoyant. He was laughing as the fairy laughed. Her laugh was contagious. His eyes glowed delightedly as he looked at the gossamer winged creature. Then the men in front of them began to lower their weapons. Firefly beamed and breathed a great sigh of relief, a relief that radiated out like the gong of a bell. Apprehension was at the edge of their eyes. They were seeing how awful goodness is.

Some ice began to trickle up from the ground, firmly cementing the man in place, the one who lowered his weapon. At first Firefly was amazed, until he felt it. It was static on a TV, hornets trapped in a lampshade. It was chaotic. There was ice, fire, apathy. It made Firefly want to cry in that moment, because it came from Ma's diner.

Solsona received an impression of something like... cooking burgers. Blistering hot, blood rising to the surface.

A tiny bead of red shot through the window. More red splattered the pavement. The tiny bead circled back. This time, with a vengeance. Firefly's glow stuttered. Outside, in front of the diner, it got darker. His stomach twisted up into a gnarled knot, his face became pale and sweat began to fall down his forehead. His eyes went from the splintering shards of bone and ribbons of viscera cast into the chilly air, to his own leg. It was still there, but his nerves didn't believe it.

In a flash he was getting impressions of the men. Calling out to each other in stricken panic. Raising their weapons, fear in their eyes. The gossamer creature-- too precious, a beacon on a black mountain-- riddled with buckshot. Ma' cowering behind the counter. These men and their robbery cut short in blood. Aghast the rest would watch as she couldn't be stopped. Solsona grit his teeth, refusing that particular splinter in time. There had to be something he could do... something someone could do...

And then the young boy he winked at early stepped outside alongside Solsona and the fairy. Solsona could feel the sharp tingle at the base of his spine, rising fast towards the top of his skull. This kid was like the image of karmic fire, and Firefly was grinning once again. It was a slightly crazy grin, one caught between too many emotions, but this was that feeling. The spirit of determination. He did the work, and where was once gristle and bone was now a new and fully healed leg.

Firefly laughed. "What the- you're amazing!" His hands were on the back of his head, pulling at the strands of his golden hair. Firefly was so excited that he wasn't sure if those words had actually come out of his mouth. But the boy glowing the color of the heart said something and touched his back gently. A bond between them emerged. Their colors were shared. Firefly was a strange mixture of pink and gold and so incredibly ecstatic that he didn't care.

He looked at the men, probably stunned at the sights they were seeing. "Hey guys. How about I make you some food and we talk. Come on in and sit down. Leave your guns at the door. Yup... Even the one in your pants. It's fine, you can pick them up on your way out. You too! You in the car!" These men would be feeling so positively charged that they wouldn't be able to refuse. Firefly was scrubbing them clean, giving them the nurturing love of Aquarius all thanks to the kid. Together they made an interesting Gemini. The waves of pink and gold lit up the diner as they all made their way back in.

Firefly cast his blue eyes at the trio. Fire, ice, apathy. There were cast in a muted pallor, his light not seemingly reaching them. "Fairy!" He said as he rubbed his chin and worked his mouth, thinking of something. Then a mischievous gleam flashed in his eyes. "I'd like you to deliver something for me." He raised his hands and what spun in them were three glowing balls of energy that floated inches from Firefly's palms. "Go hit them with these." He literally had no idea what it would do, he just hoped it would shake up some of that shit at their ankles, those old traumas that weighed them down. He hoped it would also bind them together for a while, make them think twice before they hurt each others feelings again. So he hoped. It was all up to the Good Man and his angels now.

"You guys sit there." He pointed at a table, "Hey Gemini, would you keep them company for me? I'm gonna go make us all something. I'm hungry. You hungry?" He asked the kid. Then he waltzed back into the kicthen, whistling a light a light tune, feeling better than he ever did. And everyone in the diner, oddly enough, was feeling that way too. Even Ma' who was still gawking at the scene that had just unfurled in her diner.

@Ragamoofin @Elle Joyner @Seductress

 

[Elle Joyner]

The funny thing about being roughly the size of a Monarch was, while her form became tiny and insignificant, nothing, in fact, had changed. This she'd discovered when she first shifted. It wasn't super strength... Not really. If she'd tried to catch a flying semi truck in either form she'd be squashed like a bug (heh...). But size-transference meant that her strength as a human remained, in her teenie tiny little fairy bod.

It was like that movie, with the guy who could shrink to the size of an ant and chuck objects at people... Golly he was funny, and he was such a good dad like in that scene where he was playing in the cardboard...whoops. Tangent.

At any rate, as the glowing balls of... woah. What? Those were amazing, too. This Golden Boy was probably the coolest thing she'd seen all day. And he wanted her help. Amy had to admit, she'd felt it... A twinge of something rather unpleasant, when all the yelling started. There was a memory. At the base of her spine. It started low and rose and rose, and made her throat feel tight and her hands feel sweaty. She reached deep and shoved, but it kept churning, curling up. People who yelled? They weren't usually very nice. Usually, they had other problems, though, and golly, if she could just hug everyone in that diner...

The yelling, though, was apparently the less scary part. Suddenly there'd been ice and then... Wait? Was that blood? Oh boy. Yep. Blood, sharp as... She'd actually squealed when the leg separated from the foot, and something inside her tiny little butterfly chest cracked a little, and her big green eyes had filled up... Someone optimistic as she was, you'd think she didn't cry much, but tears? Tears weren't bad or wrong. They were healing. Comforting. Cathartic... These those. These stung. These were pity and uneasiness and...

More magic. There was a... Well, she wasn't really sure what he was, except a beautiful shade of purple. And he shared that purple with the poor man with no foot. He had a foot again! Applause... Not cheesy jazz hands or a golf clap. Oh no, Amy applauded and those teenie hands clapped loud enough to be audible... Maybe. Probably not. But she tried really hard.

But then there were glowing lights and she had a job to do and because she was crazy strong when she was tiny, those glowing balls were just no trouble at all. One. Hurl. Two. Chuck. Three. Wing. Like glowing snow(fast)balls, she flung them at the three bickering patrons, before giving her little body a twist and with a swish of her wings, she caught up to Golden Boy's table of would-be thieves and murderers and the Purple Wonder, settling cross-legged down on the tabletop, folding fairy-hands in her lap.

I mean... She was hungry too...

 

[Seductress]

Mom Blair might not have defused the situation with a delicate and caring procedure, she kind of just ripped all of the wires out at once and hoped that it would work. That was Conner's style of diffusion, but if it were the Con Man a few more skulls would have been cracked by now. His eyes locked on to Blair, and then they moved over to Nellie. His facial expressions went softer, and it was almost as if he was starting to regret the entire argument he had cause. Nellie, I'm sorry he thought about blurting out. He didn't say anything though, instead he simply nodded in her direction before running his hand through his hair. Dot the waitress stood there by the kitchen, watching as their late night cook had turned gold and disappeared to tend to the wounds of the only men with hostile plans.

"I guess the pie is going to take a little bit of time, then," Conner said as he stood up. He felt his pockets for his cigarettes, not feeling the pack or lighter. Must be in the Lincoln, I guess. "I'll be right back, I need to run to the car for a second." The man paid no attention to the tea party that was taking place at the other table. Not that the man had a foot again, it was apparently time to treat the men in ski masks to some dinner. Conner's conspiracy senses were tingling, but he really didn't want to investigate. He wanted to enjoy his post-mission pie, go home, take his adderall, and go to bed. He had a fairly long day ahead of him in the morning, and that wasn't even including any surprise events that might pop up.

Conner tried to ignore the group of robbers gathering at the table, but it was getting really difficult as he pushed open the door to the parking lot. It was irritating to him; robbers should have their skulls cracked, not treated to a meal and a slice of pie. People shouldn't be rewarded for coming with the intent to rob a place. As Conner got closer to the van that still had it's lights on, the driver was getting antsy. He quickly pulled on a ski mask of his own, reaching into the glove compartment to grab his Glock and the clip that sat beside it. He slid the ammunition inside the weapon and cocked it back. He didn't get a chance to jump out and regroup with his accomplices, instead he was forced out. Conner's fist burst through the side window, grabbing a hold of the back of the mask, and smashing his head against the dash board. The now unconscious getaway driver was then pulled through the window, and dropped on the ground beside the vehicle.

That's how you treat a gunman. You punish him. With the cool night breeze tousling Conner's hair, he reached into his pockets and pulled his keys out. Once the car was unlocked, he found his cigarettes on the driver's seat of his car. He pulled one out and stuck it in his mouth. Sitting on the seat with his feet hanging out of the car, he quickly lit the cigarette and opened the glove compartment. He slid the necklace off of his neck and tucked it away safely. The last thing he needed was for someone to rob it from him. The walk back to the diner was filled with contemplation and puffs from the cigarette. As he passed the incapacitated robber, he gave him a swift kick to the gut, which just caused him to roll in his unconscious trance. The butt of the cigarette was thrown away at the door to the diner opened back up, and Conner took his seat once more.

The warmth was nice, the hot and cold temperatures fighting for dominance, with the cold losing. Before the Con Man could say anything, he felt something hit his head like a snowball. He turned around to try and see what hit him, but he couldn't see anything. He also didn't look for too long, just a quick glance in every direction except for toward the glow stick. "Woah," Conner grumbled as he felt a wave of tingling heat braze through his body. His stomach started to twist and tingle, and he began to feel like he was suddenly being weighed down. "I don't really feel very good.." He eyes opened wide as it hit him. The gas leaked out in an audible machine gun style expulsion, the strength behind the lawn mower that was his ass creating what could only be described as the very definition of a fart.

That was exactly what he needed. He felt ten pounds lighter, like he was in a state of euphoria. He was energized, and absolutely ready to kick some ass. He looked over his shoulder after letting out a very enthusiastic "excuse the fuck out of me", and eyeballed the men at the table. "Let's kick their ass," Conner banged his fist on the table with a smile. "Crack their skulls. Those guys taking care of it, they're pacifists or something, man. Hippies. Let's show them how heroes truly take care of it." He picked up his little plate, throwing it in the air and catching it. "There's three of us, three of them. One for each of us. I can take one of them out in like six seconds with this plate right here. Come on guys, let's crack some skulls in the name of Lady Justice!"

 

[Mobley Eats]

Nellie King


Location: Ma's Diner
Interactions: Robbers, Conner @Seductress & Blair @KatSea
Status: Laughing Her Ass Off

Nellie couldn't help but blink as a literal Kumbaya circle unfolded before her. Wait... were these guys serious? Sure, fine; she could care less about the "glare of disappointment" from that purple dude and his flashlight buddy because for her, all that equated to was a kitten hiss. Whatever. She had no fucks to give about other people's opinions of her; especially of ones she didn't even know. As far as she was concerned, they weren't even a blip on her radar.

The robbers currently settling down for tea time, however, definitely were.

Why... Why even? Who treated potential murderers, thieves, and overall scumbags like guests to the Gala? Who did that? That was just... Whatever. It didn't matter. Getting stressed did nothing good for her blood pressure, which was already straining so much against the walls of her veins that she swore she was going to projectile vomit blood all over the floor at any moment. She needed to keep calm. Get this bullshit over with. Eat. Go home. Forget any of this happened.

Yeah, that sounded doable.

In the midst of her thoughts, sounds of struggle from outside the diner caught her attention and she watched blankly as Conner swiftly took care of the fourth man in the van. Well, at least there was that. One step closer to freeing herself from this clusterfuck of a situation. The man returned quickly enough, as if he had only stepped outside to let a breeze brush his face.

Then she noticed weird little energy balls being chucked her way.

Unfortunately, Nellie wasn't quite fast enough to dodge and a grimace twisted her lips the moment it pelted against her shoulder, apparently absorbed into her body... Welp, this was fine. She was used to being physically violated and having her emotional boundaries toyed with, so what was the point of getting pissed at this too? None. Thus, Nellie just stared down at her shoulder, not even fighting the odd sensation coursing through her body. Her sentient blood buzzed in displeasure at the foreign existence before they were forced to settle down like a tepid lake. Ah.. Okay. This was a "chill pill", but in floating ball form.

She didn't care for it.

But hey, at least she wasn't going to paint the walls with crimson-stained spittle now. Yayyyy--fucking optimism. She was such a professional at this. Regardless, the well of anger within her reached far deeper than some surface level emotions and the cold sore on her soul was far from healed. Heaving a sigh, she allowed a hint of concern to flicker in her eyes as she looked between Conner and Blair, checking to see if the energy affected them in any way. She'd rather not have anyone experience that level of invasion, no matter how minor it seemed. No matter how much Conner had royally pissed her off--

In that moment, God decided to unleash the most unholiest and rancid fart Nellie had ever witnessed. Originating from Conner.

"..."

A beat.

"..."

Another...

Snort!

Then, another obnoxious sound followed. Nellie tried to slap a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to conceal the noise, but it was far too late. A porky and loud snort slipped through her nostrils, cheeks beet red and puffing up from the monumental effort she applied into smothering her giggles. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit that was astronomically amazing and terrible all at once--

No. NO! She would not laugh! Hell no!

...But fuck that was hilarious. This man literally tooted off the effects of glowstick man's abilities. "H-holy shit... You just, you just fucking... I can't!" she gasped between bouts of laughter. Swallowing a huge gulp of oxygen, her forehead gently met the table as her eyes screwed shut, fighting off the sudden fit of amusement washing over her like a tidal wave. Christ. She thought she was over that. Laughing at dumb and childish shit like that belonged in Old Nellie territory, not Iron Head's. Calm down... Calm down... You are a fucking rock.

While she was trying to gather herself, she took advantage of that moment to swat fruitlessly at the air, trying to disperse the funk. Jesus--he almost smelled as bad as her dad. Almost.

Nellie's focus swerved over to Blair again and she found herself speaking without much thought. "Uh... Just a heads up. Whatever you're feeling, it'll be over soon. Well, I mean..." She visibly hesitated, then reached out to very awkwardly pat the top of her hand. "You're fine. That's all I'm... all I'm trying to... yeah. That." Christ, that was harder than she anticipated. Coughing into a fist, she was oddly grateful at Conner's interjection, despite him going on about cracking skulls and Lady Justice... Eh, it was whatever.

She'd take it.

Just the tiniest hint of a smirk graced Nellie's visage as she shrugged. "Good enough for me." She took a moment to pat her chest, breaking up the globs of blood in her lungs like it was mucus, then let another ball rise up the back of her throat. She spat at the floor between her legs. The construct halted mere inches before hitting the floor and darted towards her target like a floating viper--the same man whose foot she severed beforehand. But... she figured outright killing wasn't her intention. Not anymore. Instead, blood constricted around his ankle with a vice grip and with a violent yank, snatched the man back and forcefully slammed his face into the counter, knocking him out instantly. Casually, she exited the booth and grabbed the other end of her construct, then waltzed out of the diner at a very ginger pace. The body slid across tiles behind her, bumping lightly into corners and chairs along the way.

Eh--not her problem.

Once she was outside, Nellie laid the robber down next to his equally as unconscious compatriot, and just took a short moment to look over both of them with a placid expression. They... absolutely reeked. She hadn't noticed before but now that she was up close and personal, their bodies radiated several different scents. Unnaturally so. These guys... They've killed plenty of innocents in their free time. Fucking Hell. Pieces of trash, all of them. But, then again, I'm just a hypocrite, huh? ...Yep. Definitely am. Nellie didn't want to spend another moment existing in their bloody odor, so she returned to the diner quickly, and reclaimed her spot in the booth.

She still wanted her vanilla milkshake, dammit.

 

[Seductress]

A wide smile of triumphant happiness, that oozed proud undertones, covered Conner's face. The man was almost 35 years old, and still he managed to find the humor in passing gas. "Sorry, I get bubble gut sometimes." He analysed Nellie's reaction, enjoying the sight of amusement that possessed her body. That team attitude rant he went on earlier was instantly thrown out the window, now that Nelson was showing that her emotions could actually be three dimensional. At least, it was only 3-D when she didn't have any choice in the matter. This was all he wanted to see, a little bit of smiles, a little bit of laughter. I guess Nelson is just going to take more work if I want to see her enjoying life on the regular. By the udder of Lady Justice, I will milk all of the joy from this woman.

The heroes' eyes narrowed over to Solsana or whatever the fuck his name was. Don't think I didn't notice that look. The way Nellie reacted when that orb of emotion hit her, it didn't feel very good for Conner to watch. He looked at her, his eyes begging the question of are you okay(?) without him having to audibly ask it. He watched her reach over and actually make physical contact with Blair, spouting comforting sentences that were just barely coherent. Conner's heroic defense mechanism managed to save him from the weird glowing Ritalin that he wasn't even prescribed, but how was Nellie and Blair going to handle it? Was that a predatory sign of hostility? A declaration of war?

Conner had half a mind to go over there and kick the Rave accessories' ass. You know that you've crossed the line when Conner had half a mind focused around anger, because he only really had half a mind at this point. The only thing keeping this dude from getting bruised and battered was the fact that it was Conner, and not The Night Watcher. Another time, another place (a hollow universe in space), and you would have your butt handed to you on a silver platter, my dude. The plus side was that Nelson seemed more than enthusiastic for Conner's plan. That's exactly what he was talking about. She could still be mad at him, but in the end, he really couldn't really care less right now. They were talking, and about to kick ass together again, so he had to focus on that.

Boots cluttered against the bench of the booth. Conner jumped up to get a better vantage point. Nellie's blood predator was sneaking and slithering around, and had it's eye on it's own target. Conner's eyes jumped around from opponent to opponent, until he decided on the robber who was a bit portly and looked like he drank too much beer, and had a leather jacket covering his back. He was the most logical choice, as he was the only one actually facing Conner's direction. Holding the Frisbee plate in his right hand, he brought his left hand up, tapping it against the face of the smooth surface. He licked his index finger, putting up in the air. Slight draft; perfect.

The back of the target's chair hit the ground. The plate had the perfect spin to it as it surfed smoothly through the air. It had a nice curve downward, seeking it's target with predatory instincts. It's just a plate, get a grip. There was more than enough force behind the throw to break something, which was unfortunate that it wasn't the man's skull. Instead, the plate burst into multiple different projectile pieces. Conner couldn't help but fist pump the air as the plate made a direct hit, with potential to hit the glow-in-the-dark crayon with the pieces that broke off of it.

 

[KatSea]

Blair Whittaker



Blair watched in confusion with the sudden gathering of the robbers at the table across from them, her brow furrowing in concern as one man(Golden Wonder she was going to refer to him as, although it was nowhere near as bad as the assortment Jem could have come up with. Which included Sparkle Dreamboy, Rip McHardPeck's Guiding Bolt, Messiah Moderndom, and so forth. ...Damn, he had been rubbing off on her bad.) simply gathered them together. This wasn't how Blair pictured this whole...debacle coming to a close, nor did it sit right in her stomach. Something felt off about summoning gunmen to a power induced therapy session, dropping their guns beside them. Her stomach churned briefly, although it settled at...

... Blair's eyes flickered from Conner to Nellie. Scrutinizing. Skeptical.

...

Nellie's laughter is what caught her off the most, besides the fart that filtrated the room and threatened to light her senses on fire. By no means was this the worst thing her nostrils had ever been exposed to, in fact she had grown desensitized to a lot of bodily excrements, but the execution and the timing of such a function made her lips turn upwards in a childish grin. She slammed a hand to her mouth and nearly froze her lips shut to keep a laugh from escaping her. Sweet Mother of God, watch over my olfactory receptors. Actually...why don't we just pray that they get cut out entirely, it would make my job at home so much easier. Conner, thank you for the contribution to the rotting of my olfactory system.

Brushing back her thoughts for the meantime, Blair's brow raised at Pacifist McGee(Damn it Jem, the influence needed to die off before she pissed someone off), as he seemed to converse with the fairy before. Now, Blair had no particular problem with a pacifist route, but she saw a few concerns in the case of..well, the man's ability. Will it wear? Were those in the store still in trouble? Blair didn't want to risk it. Especially not with guns in the vicinity. She had learned before that somethings needed to be carried all the way through in order for the solution to appear. Raising her hand, preparing to let the final man's unconsciousness to be swift and with her hope, bloodless, a small patch of bright light flung from the fairy's hand and onto her shoulder. The hell? Why is he targeting us? W-

Blair's muscles began to relax beneath her skin as her hand trembled and lowered to her side. She...the light warmed her insides, forcing the tenseness in her muscles to uncoil and unfurl until...she felt sluggish. Relaxed. Euphoric? But...it was wrong. It was so wrong. This hadn't been natural. A sedative. A forceful relaxant. It reminded her of a similar warmth, not too long ago, crawling beneath her skin as it invaded her entire circulatory system.

"I love you. Stop wriggling. Just say it back now, dear. I love you...this is how I show it now, Blair. Stay still."

Blair's mouth remained agape, far past the voice in her head returning from the depths in which she had buried it. Nellie's hand upon hers anchored her back in the present, eyes that had once been glazed over suddenly returning to their light blue glimmer. Four breaths, in and out. Repeat. Remember the breathing method, love. Long breaths in, long breaths out. There you go...Nellie's grounding you. Conner is there. It's okay. What you are feeling isn't him. He isn't here. Just breathe, love. That's all you can do.

Blair didn't mind the stares from the three new heroes on the other end of the room, but rather allowed the cold formulating in her hands to consume her completely. Blair could not connect to the others around her, could not fully comprehend their placement in the world at this moment. Her only focus was the remaining target before her, still sitting straight while the remaining two slumped to the floor. Her hand rose without her permission, allowing the water and frost to trickle from the pouch at her hip and onto the floor. Thin spikes and shards scrambled across the floor, swiftly escalating in size and speed before the final blow came. The final spike, its end blunt and rounded, came to meet the final robber's temple, colliding with his skull with a sickening crunch. The robber slumped to the floor without issue, fumbling over the chair and onto the tile below.

Did...did I...

Blair inspected him, heart in her throat while guilt pulsed through her veins. There...there...

One moment. Two. His chest was moving beneath him. Inhaling. Exhaling. Not...not too shallow. He was alive. He may have had a few streams of blood trickling down his temple, but his lungs were functioning. His body was still working. A sigh of relief escaped her before she could think to contain it. Seeing the fairy and the Golden man before her, shards coated to her palms, and for a moment, she threatened to flicker her wrist in their direction, to embed themselves into their skin, wanting to ensure she wouldn't feel the emotion that had dulled in her veins.

No. Darling. No. Let it go and breathe. You are alright, dear. No more needs to be done. They aren't him. They don't deserve this. It was a dick move on his part...but you need to let this go. The robbers are down. The cops can come and scoop them up.

Not even bothering to glance at the remaining food on the table, Blair slowly gathered her things, swallowing hard before giving an apologetic yet thankful glance to both Nellie and Conner. Christ. She felt like she was going to vomit. "I'll see you two in the car." She murmured, voice hoarse as she bit back a response, knowing that if she rose her voice any further, she wouldn't be able to control herself.

She silently turned on her heel, opening the door and breathing in the fresh air as she allowed the peace of the outside invaded her. Not even realizing she slammed the door behind her, she hummed a song that Jem branded into her head and moved towards the Lincoln vehicle.

 

[Ragamoofin]

[Synergizer.]

Location: Down the road from Ma's Diner.

​

The gravel crunched under his bike's tires, Anselle watching the wheels turn, over and over, over and over.

[I don't see why you're so glum over this. I thought this was quite the eventful outing.]​

A bunch formed in his brow. "Syn, are you-" Anselle sputtered, hand curling into an accusing point, chest swelling up with all the words he wanted to say - but then he deflated, shoulders slumping, raised finger falling back to the handlebars of his bicycle. "Well, I guess I can't disagree with you?" Anselle's eyes went back to the wheels of his bike, mouth pressed into a frown at how...gory things had gotten - how weird.

[You did well, Anselle. Your regeneration is coming along quite nicely.]​

Cheeks beginning to warm at the sincere compliment, Anselle chewed at his lip. "Ah, thanks, Syn. I mean, it was only a foot."

[I might be wrong, but I don't believe many people can create functional body parts.]​

Anselle let the thought roll about his head, pursing his lips at how specifically bizarre that was. "Just don't expect me to make a living out of it," Anselle muttered, expression turning sour as a shiver rolled up his spine. "God, did you see that guy's knee? It was just like-" Hands leaving his bike for a moment, his palms gathered a dazzling cluster of magenta, slamming against each other in a lurid burst of color. "Kaboom! Syn, I almost gagged."

[You did. I stopped us.]​

Anselle shivered again, hands back on his bike. "Thanks..." Anselle grumbled, growing silent.

[This night...has upset you.]​

Anselle's hands grew tight on the handlebars, speaking through his teeth when his lips peeled back. "You could say that," Anselle said, voice clipped.

[You do not approve of that empowered group's actions.]​

It got annoying how well Synergizer knew him sometimes, he could only imagine it had something to do with being in his head - still, it stung to hear his feelings just flung out into the open. "That's not it, that's-" Anselle sighed, braids swinging with the weak shake of his head. "Look, I wasn't trying to get buddy-buddy with armed robbers! But, like- that guy's knee! And his foot. Like, what was I supposed to do, let him bleed out?!"

[You did what you felt was best in the moment. While instinct can be a guide, you have the right to be selective in whom you assist.]​

Anselle's stomach swam with a sickly feeling. "What do you mean?"

Synergizer paused, Anselle sensing the consideration over his thoughts.

[You don't have to help everyone. And sometimes, you can't.]​

That...that just didn't sit right. Anselle felt his stomach turn harder, Synergizer growing...uneasy.

[Tougher choices than the ones tonight await you, Anselle.]

[Are you sure you can make the right ones?]​

 

[Seductress]

Conner Lockheart

The Night Watcher ​

Silent eyes fell upon the last remaining robber as Blair flushed her frustration out on him. Maybe that wasn't the proper term for it, but Conner could see through her mannerisms that Blair had reached some form of inner turmoil. There was absolutely no way that her mind was a blank canvas, just waiting to be painted with beautiful landscapes of positive thoughts. No, she was elsewhere - somewhere that Conner had never thought to look for her. He wanted to reach a hand out to her and pull her back into reality, but knew that the only person who could end her trip was herself. There was nothing that Conner could do, and that was okay. He had to understand that all she needed was time, because Blair always seemed to find a way to walk away from a situation with her head high and a smile draped across that frozen little face of hers.

Those strange balls of energized empathy seemingly had a different effect on everyone. Conner was lucky that his natural defenses saw the artificial thoughts and feelings as predatory, and found it away. Can the same be said about Blair and Nellie, though? Not so much, unfortunately. Nellie was the first to take her target down, and then Conner and Blair apparently struck around the same time as each other. This, now this is teamwork. This is how we should be handling robbers, instead of bickering and arguing. This is how Lady Justice wants us to handle her tests and challenges. This was a sight that Conner wanted to see, that level of team co-operation.

Things weren't all fun and games, however. Blair rose up from her seat and made her was toward the car, with Conner looking over to Nellie. "Maybe we can get pie some other day," He said, sliding his way out of the booth. "Come on, let's go back to the car. I'll drop you guys off wherever you want to be dropped off." He might have been a bit of a weenie, but he wasn't a dweeb. Some people (especially heroes) didn't like people knowing exactly where they lived, so he would never actually ask someone for their address. He just simply tried to figure out where their preferred drop off spot was. That was a much easier, more ambiguous way for him to work around everyone else's preferences.

Once again, Conner was fairly silent through the car ride. He had the news on, and turned it up ever so slightly when they went over the major events of the night. Tragedy struck at Inova Fairfax hospital a small handful of hours ago. Word has it that Congressman Clifford Chore was sent to the Inova Fairfax hospital after a failed attempt on his life. There was- "Just watch," Conner said, talking over the radio. "They're going to leave out the fact we showed up, and the fact that Chore is a small pawn in a conspiracy that starts with a political assassination." - So called 'superheroes' had arrived, saving at least twenty innocent civilians, as well as the politician himself. President Taffer has organized a press conference for around one thirty in the afternoon, and extends a warm invitation for the heroes who had a part in the rescue to join him in addressing the general public.

Conner turned the radio back down, his eyes never leaving the road. "You guys thinking of going?" He asked over his shoulder, his eyes darting around the empty, quiet road. After dropping the ladies off at their desired locations, Conner turned his radio back up, turning on his mix CD that he had on from earlier. Rolling down his window, he held a cigarette against his mouth as he lit it. It was getting way too late for Conner to be awake when he had shit to do, which just keeps piling up. He groaned, resting his head back on the seat. At least there was still a minimal amount of traffic, and no signs of trouble. Now that's funny, it's like life is finally giving me a break from all the shit it decided to throw at us all tonight. He couldn't help but think of that slippery slide of justice, and that large metal suit. It's been quite a while since he had met anybody that he could consider a new friend.

Blair was obviously the easiest of the two to befriend. It seemed like her and Conner could actually get along. The way she would get all motherly was a fresh of breath air...wait, no. Fuck it. Nellie, on the other hand, she was going to be a tougher nut to crack. He just had to be tenacious in his efforts, and not let his pension for mischief get the better of him. Anyone who would take a grenade for her team is a-okay in my books. She really didn't have to do that, but she did anyway. Now that really is an extraordinary quality in any hero. If you let this one go, self, you know that you're not going to be able to actually let it go. She has a lot of potential as a hero, and the three of us have potential to work together as the messengers of Lady Justice, performing her will.

Back at the house, he descended down the stairs into his personal Bat Cave. It probably wasn't the most secure spot to keep an arsenals worth of stolen, illegal weapons and cases of drug money, but hey, Conner was convinced that he could get himself out of any situation. He had brought his costume down from the car and dressed it back on to the mannequin. He reached into his small bar fridge, pulling a cold can of beer. Maybe Blair's power was meant to cool off warm beer that had been left out in the sun too long. That would be pretty cool. He sat down at his desk, looking up at the wall that was covered in newspaper clippings, photos, and documents he managed to hack his way through internet databases in order to get. He clicked open his beer and turned to his computer.

An image of Clifford Chore and a quick write up of today's events, as well as a report on the drive-by that left Chore in the hospital spit itself from the printer on the side of the desk. There wasn't really any blank space on the wall, but Conner found a comfortable spot to pin them up. Was this really the best way to go about it all? Connecting the dots with a color coded string system? Conner couldn't think of a better way, even if it did leave him with a maze of red, yellow, green and white. He felt like he was getting so close, but part of him knew that he would never be able to decode all of the clues. Fingers were pointing in every which direction; it was off putting. There were clues on his wall that he wasn't even supposed to have. If you were to search up knows too much in the dictionary, a picture of The Night Watcher would be the first thing that you would find.

Once the beer had been consumed, Conner got up from his seat. He made his way over to one of the man gun lockers that lined the room and pulled out his familiar Beretta 98 A1. It's arguable that the weapon was a little too big for a self defense use, but then again, just about everything in this damn life was arguable. Conner could tell someone that he was The Night Watcher, and people would try arguing that their friend knows a guy who's friends with a cocktail waitress who knows a guy who's uncle worked for some dude who claims he is the Night Watcher. Arguments are usually hard for Conner to win, especially since they just snowball into some out of control bickering where the other party tries to hammer some moot conjecture into his head.

With his shirt off and flannel pajama bottoms on, Conner turned off the Bat Cave's lights. Calling it the Bat Cave is just too unoriginal. There's got to be some other name I can call it by. The Watch Tower? The Bunker? The Hideout? Fuck, I shouldn't be thinking about this right now. He sprawled out on his bed, finding a comfy vantage point under his blankets. He reached up, sliding the gun under his pillow. Sleep washed over him, pulling him into it's sweet, dark embrace a lot faster than he thought it would. Almost as soon as his hand left his pillow, he was out like a light.

Perry Stanley



Days Out Of Retirement:
12
​

Ah, fuck. They used to call him the monkey man, on account of the fact that without a t-shirt, he could very easily be compared to a primate. A 300 pound primate that smelled of stale whisky and old cigarettes. As he tried to sit up, the beer cans fell off of his chest and clattered against the base of his couch. The hardwood flooring in the living room was stained with dark, sticky substances that the monkey man couldn't even identify anymore. He looked around the room, questions of who, what, when, where, how danced around his pounding brain. The answer came in the form of the two empty whisky bottles blending in with the otherwise sea of beer cans. He groaned to himself, his brain pounding against the walls of his forehead. He turned himself so that his feet dangled off the side of the couch, and he was sitting on it like a regular human being would.

The cigarette smoke littered the whisky scented air as he looked down at his phone. He was flooded with calls from a blocked, private number. He grumbled as he realized it was already 12:30. Rising up from his perch, the pain shot through his back in an almost crippling fashion. He hung his head back and let out a pained, almost annoyed sigh. Ring-Ring-Riiing. There goes the phone once again, the exact same unknown number. It had to have been him.

"Yeah." The Monkey Man said, his cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"Perry, are you awake?"

"No, I'm still fucking asleep." He made his way over to the bathroom, sticking his hand past the shower curtain to turn it on.

"I've got shit to do after one, so I need you to make sure you're able to meet for noon."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there. Don't worry." With that, Perry the Monkey Man hung up. He achieved all of his usual routine; shower, beard trim and after shape application, hair brushed, teeth brushed, a beer and a cigarette for breakfast, and then he was ready to go. He considered not tucking his smokey grey office shirt into his pants, but he'd rather look like he's getting fat than being silly. He grabbed his Smith & Wesson Model 19 Classic and slid it on with his belt. When he grabbed his wallet, he made sure to grab his badge as well. You never know when you're going to run into some shenanigans these days.

The Red Band Steak House; classy, expensive, and lives up to the reputation. That's where the two met at least once a week, sometimes more if they could find the time for it. Perry surprisingly showed up before his date did, despite all of the excessive wake up calls. Perry like to compare his methods to the age old classic of the tortoise and the hare; with Perry being the tortoise and the rest of the world being that goddamn hare. Everyone lived life too quickly, always trying to rush through it. Not Perry, though. He liked to smell the flowers, sip the wine, let the door hit him on the way out. Slow and steady always wins the race, which was the mindset that got Perry Stanley as far as he got in life.

Perry's food had arrived at the table just as Conner was entering. A nice steak (on the grill for a no longer than a minute per side) on top of scrambled eggs, with a health hearty pint of dark beer to wash it down. The brunch of kings. As Perry spotted Conner heading in his direction, he slid his chair out and stood up. "I thought I smelled trash." Perry smiled, wrapping his arms around Conner.

"Yeah, you know that showers and general hygiene up keep helps you with that problem, right?" Conner returned the hug before taking a seat across from Perry. "You know, I've never understood the point of brunch. You can either have breakfast, or have lunch. There doesn't always have to be an in between, you know." An ironic criticism, considering the fact that second later Conner ordered two slices of fresh cherry pie.

"I heard about your little adventure last night," Perry said as he stuck his knife into the chunk of meat, sawing at it with the knife. "You don't think it was them, do you?"

Conner nodded as he reached across the table to grab Perry's beer, which warranted a quick jab at his hand with the steak knife. "Oh course I do," He said, waving off the knife as he grabbed the beverage, sneaking a quick sip of it. "I saw the guns these guys had. Automatic, military grade. This wasn't just some random street thug who didn't like Chore's politics."

"I've never met a thug who had enough explosives to level the biggest hospital in Washington, either." Perry said, finally getting the slice of meat cut and into his mouth.

"Could you not talk with your mouth full? It's gross, man."

A cocky, open mouth smile crossed Perry's face as he obnoxiously chewed with his mouth open, making sure that Conner could get a good glimpse. "If it is them, then I'd be impressed." A quick sip of the beer. "If this is connected to what happened on the bridge like...a decade ago, then I'll give you props for being able to see into the future. It isn't every day that a hospital blows up in an attempt to assassinate a heavy hitting public figure like that."

"It's funny, none of the emergency services showed up until we were getting everything wrapped up. There were officers watching while we took out Sadist and his brother, and that was only a few blocks from the hospital. If we could pick up on the fire without a police scanner, then they could too. Speaking of police...let's see it."

A flat, disappointed look crossed Perry Stanley's face. His head turned to the right, his eyes scanning the area, then his head turned to the left, scanning the area. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and handing Conner what looked almost like a wallet. Opening it up, Conner admired the golden tinted tin star. "Lead Detective Perry Stanley," Conner read off. "Meta-Human Defense Force."

"Yeah, that means you can't fuck this up anymore," Perry stated firmly as Conner's pie was delivered right to him. "You need to take this whole thing a lot more seriously, otherwise I will be forced to arrest you, and out you a criminal."

"Under what grounds?" Conner, turning a napkin into a bib.

"Misuse of power. They don't like that sort of thing from any meta-human, good or bad, they'll throw you right into Verrick's faster than you can blink. So please, make my life simple and stop acting like a loaded gun."

With a fork full of pie, Conner raised his hands up in defeat. "You can try putting me in handcuffs, but I've lifted a city bus once. I don't think that handcuffs are going to be able to keep me held down."

"Hey, this is serious. This isn't like grade 11, I'm not going to turn a blind eye to you abusing your powers. Keep the damage low, incapacitate the villains, not the thugs. You know that I love you and all, but if I'm going to be back in the field I'm going to need you to behave yourself."

"I don't even get why you're out of retirement," Conner said as he scooped the penultimate bite of his pie on his fork. "You should be going bowling or playing golf. You should be at home watching Doctor Phil waiting for your grand kids, you know, enjoying retirement."

"Yeah, well, my job isn't finished yet. When are you going to stop running around in your undies and take a job at McDonalds?"

Conner brought his middle finger up to his face, scratching his cheek with it. "Yeah, well, you got me there. You coming to the press conference?" Conner asked as he stood up, dropping his fork on the plate.

"Yeah, I'll come to watch for sure."

"Perfect. Also," Conner said as he started shifting through his wallet, pulling out a ten and a five. "You might want to investigate into Ma's Dinner after dark, I've heard that there's some..strange people that like to hang around there."

Perry's eye brow raised as Conner dropped the money on the table and left. He had finished his brunch, but ordered another pint before he even finished his current one. The city was starting to become a mess with supers, and Conner's actions were really starting to become concerning. Micromanaging a superhero? Sure, Perry would do that. Spying on and threatening your best friend from high school? No, he would be sacrificing any spot he had on the moral high ground. Morals wouldn't matter when the worst case scenario came to fruition, however. Things were going well, for now.

The Press Conference was just down the road, so Perry figured he would just stick around and have a few beers before it was time for the press conference. I wonder how many masks are actually going to show up. Villains could easily blend in, so this might not be the best idea. By the time Perry had left the restaurant and looked for a decent vantage point to watch, the secret service weren't the only ones who had shown up in bulk; a rather large mass of civilians had made their way to see the president, and the cool superheroes. With a cynical smile, Detective Stanley plopped a cigarette in his mouth.

There was a familiar -not exactly friendly- face that Perry noticed; Anarchy had taken a spot leaning against a tree, enjoying the shade. Whenever she showed up to anything, it was almost as if Conner's pension for destruction was thrown out the window. Perry knew how Anarchy liked to work; he was always stuck filling the body bags and giving the official body count to the chief of police. Speaking of the police chief. Word had it that the chief was murdered, his neck was broken or he was strangled, or something. That prompted the detective to raise a few red flags at the entire prospect. If it was a meta, then I have a lot of work on my hands.

He didn't start working cases for another day and a half. They were too busy trying to get him back in the routine of being on duty again. Showing up hung over, or still drunk even, wasn't going to fly. Word was, the new chief of police was a real hard ass. Nobody had met him yet, but the day Perry went back on duty was the same day the chief started. So it was going to be a bit of fun, to say the least.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Real or not real...

It was a funny little line from one of her favorite books. Or at least... She thought it was one of her favorites... Though maybe funny wasn't the word for it. A lot of people died in those books, didn't they? But that was the difference between fact and fiction. Those people weren't real.

Right?

As she left the diner for her apartment, Amelia felt a straining weight cast upon her that she couldn't quite shake free of with a smile and a happy thought. Those people in the diner... She supposed they were heroes. But Amy wasn't really sure what to think, anymore. Had they needed to do it? Hurt the robbers? Sure... They weren't good robbers. Amy was a lot of things, but she wasn't delusional... She knew people didn't walk into a diner with guns for funsies... But everything flashing through her mind was so dark. So violent. So...

It just didn't feel real. So it must not have been. Which meant, of course, that she was having another...

Well. That didn't matter. She'd just do what she always did when these things happened. She'd go home, take a hot shower and crawl into bed, letting the gravelly purr of sleep pull her down into warm, comforting dreams. Then the next day, she'd pick up her phone and call her most favorite person in the world... Her cousin.

If anyone could prevent a funk, it was Emoji.

Simple. Except there was no such thing as simple. Simple was an illusion. Life was full of complicated things, and scary thing, and sad things... And some days it was really hard to stay positive...

Oh boy. Maybe she would call Emoji tonight...

Key in the door, Amelia pushed it opened, surprisingly not surprised to find she wasn't alone. Inside, there was a figure, waiting. Tall and lithe, white flesh dappled with strange red markings... The horns, or maybe they were antlers, always reminded Amy of Christmas... Things dangling here and there...

She'd seen this one a few times...

"You're not real." She whispered, not in fear, not unkindly... It was just reality. A reminder. It was a matter-of-fact statement, and a moment later, the creature faded from view...

Pity. She could've used a friend...

But the subtle nudge she felt, corporeal, despite the empty stillness of her apartment... washed a wave of warmth over her and with a smile, Amy sank onto the couch.

She always had friends.

 

[Ragamoofin]

[Synergizer.]

Location: Bookwyrm's Closet > Press Conference
​

As the bell above the door frame was struck, Anselle's hand came up by his head, waving politely at the customer's back. "Come back and see us!" He chimed, cuping his hand around his mouth as the door came to a crack. "And tell me how it was!" He snuck in, door shutting just as he finished. A smirk broke over his lips, eyes briefly hanging on the jangling bell above the door. A snort bubbled up in his throat, Anselle stepping away from the register. "I've basically read, like, thirteen books asking people that." Anselle chuckled, a rumbling sensation crawling over his brain - seemed his bodymate thought it was funny.

[My favorite was the one about the triathletes in the deadly maze.]​

Anselle gave a noise of acknowledgement. "Ah, yeeeeaaah. I really liked that one, too!" Dimples showing in his cheek as he frowned, Anselle tutted his tongue. "Still haven't watched the movie, any of 'em."

[We could soon, your shift is nearly over.] ​

"Really?" Anselle spun around on his heel, searching for the old clock in the shop. His eyes narrowed on the clock, mumbling to himself - to Synergizer. "I hope she's not late again-" Words falling flat, Anselle's mouth fell open, brows looking to jump up to his hairline at the time.

[12:43.]

[Seems she's late again.] ​

No. No, not now. Not when he had - sorta plans! Face the picture of hopelessness, Anselle sputtered. "W-we're gonna late for the - thing!" Anselle gasped, feeling the confusion ooze off Synergizer.

[The thing? Which one?] ​

And, yeah, that was a pretty valid question. But, c'mon, it was the thing - at least for today.

Shutting his mouth, holding his tongue down and forcing his thoughts to gather, Anselle breathed. His heart rattled behind his ribs, but he spoke - quickly. "The superhero thing with the president!"

[Ah, yes. That thing.]​

Anselle sighed, nodding ruefully. "Yeah, that thing." Man...so close to being apart of history! Granted he'd just be in the crowd, but he'd be a her- hero-in-active training among the crowd. And he thought that'd be pretty cool. He'd get to see all the superheros - at a distance, probably pick up some food if vendors were allowed, bask in the greatness of heroes and try to suck up some of that greatness.

[We cannot absorb this ''greatness'' you crave.]​

Anselle's expression fell further, walking towards the back of the store in a huff. "Way to crush my dreams, Syn..." Anselle said, purely joking, unable to fight the smirk that came to his face. Anselle picked up a hardback book that laid crooked on a shelf, another one found just below it. And another - what jerk did this? Grumbling to himself, Anselle tucked the books under his arm, finding more as he walked down the aisles.

[This displeases you?]​

Anselle shrugged, keeping a hold on the books. "I mean, it's just rude to leave the books lying all over the place." Anselle's lips tucked downward, brow pressing together at the book that laid pages-down on the floor. "Like this," Anselle whispered, carefully bending over, picking up the delicate paperback - his eyes caught a split in the cover, he hissed. "Should've known," he muttered, looking above his head, reading the sign with an ironic chuckle. "We're in tragedy."

[That's not what I meant.]​

Anselle felt his hands move on their own, gently swiping over the split pages, feeling the warm beading of light at his fingertips. His eyes went wide at the repaired cover, control back in his own hands as he stood. "Whoa...wait, what did you mean?" Anselle asked, sticking the book back on the shelf.

[The conference, you wanted to go?]​

Anselle shrugged, frown etching back into his lips. He gave a curt nod. "Yeah, I wanted to go...but just to see all the heroes! I hate to say it, but I never really paid much attention to who's who before I got into all of this." Adjusting his grip on his growing stack of books, Anselle's tongue peeked from his mouth. "Guess I wanted to see my new...allies?" Eyes growing huge as his grip began to slip on the books, almost biting his tongue as the stack tilted -

A violet flash came before the stack came to a stop, Anselle's stance shifting as his torso felt several pounds heavier. "Uh," he drawled, staring down at the second pair of - armored arms sticking out from under his own, huge hands easily securing the books. "Thank you."

[You're welcome.]​

The arms drew closer to his body, stacking the books on their rightful shelf quickly, shrinking back with a diminishing light, solid weight fading into his sweater. Anselle ran a cautious hand down his sides, expecting to find the hands - but he felt nothing but his own flesh. "Aren't you just full of surprises," Anselle muttered, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through his skull.

Anselle's cheeks rose, snickering under his breath. "Did I make you blush?"

[I cannot blush.]​

Anselle made a suspicious noise, eyes flicking down to his hands - eyes squinting at the subtle gleam of rose hues over his skin. "That so?"

[Yes.] ​

Anselle's skin felt warmer. His smile grew.

[We would have much to gain for attending that conference. It'd be interesting to see our...]​

Anselle's head cocked as he provided the word. "Allies?"

[Maybe so, in the future. But for now, it's just the two of us.]​

It hurt to know, but it was the truth. Anselle sighed, nodding. "Just us, budd-"

The entrance swung up open with the familiar chime of the bell, swatted out of the way by the door. Anselle stood still for a moment, a bubbling in his stomach erupting into a swarm of butterflies. "No, it couldn't be." Peeking over his shoulder, Anselle couldn't see much of the front for the shelves, but his voice carried on.

"Hello there! I'll be right there if you-"

A humored snort interrupted him.

"Save the speech, Ellie, it's me."

That nickname...it had to be. Anselle dashed up to the front, head poking out from one of the aisles, toothy smile on display at his relief. "Nalani!" Anselle cheered, the girl throwing him a short wave of her fingers. "You had me worried there, thought I'd have to close on my own!" Anselle laughed, sounding just a tad forced - he muttered under his breath quickly. "Again."

Nalani shook her head, dark ponytail thrown over her shoulder, slipping off her hoodie and throwing it behind the front counter. "Nah, dude. Just got stuck in the middle of all that shit downtown." Standing upright, Nalani stretched her arms above her head, a yawn pulling at her lips. "Wasn't even my fault this time," she muttered through her yawn, cracking an eye open to peer down at Anselle. "You gonna head out?"

Anselle's smile stretched his lips, head nodding fast enough to send his braids bouncing around his head. "You bet!" Darting over to the front, Anselle squeezed past the taller girl to pick up his bag from under the counter - his bike helmet was just behind it, Anselle pulling it on as he stood. "Been looking forward to this since, like, when I found out this morning. But this is huge, you know!"

Nalani rose a curious brow, leaning up against the wall, strong arms crossing as she watched the boy pull his backpack on. "Oh, yeah? What's so good about a bunch of supes getting the run of the city?" Nalani's sleepy gaze went elsewhere in the shop, something like recollection in her eyes. "You gonna feel any safer?"

Anselle tightened his helmet by the strap, dimples showing in his cheeks again. "I mean, I hope so?" Anselle answered, not too sure. He craned his neck to look up at Nalani, adjusting his braids from out of his face. "That's the idea, isn't it? Get the heroes around, try to scare off the villains? Let the cops worry about the regular criminals?"

Nalani blew through her nose, shoulders shrugging. "Dunno, man, gives the impression that common, more frequent crimes aren't as deserving of the supes' attention. Ever wonder what that kind of favoritism says about our society?"

Anselle found Nalani's gaze, and she found his. They stared at each other, unblinking - Anselle was the first to crack, lips going wobbly before he burst into laughter, Nalani's grin splitting her face as she fell into a snorting guffaw. "Knew you were gonna lose it," she snickered, wiping away the budding tears at her eyes.

Anselle fought back the giggles in his chest as he threw his hands up. "You say something ridiculous like that and expect me not to laugh. Like, come on, I'm not a robot."

Walking from around the counter, Anselle tightened his backpack's straps over his chest, getting a curious noise out of Nalani. "Where are you off to?"

Anselle turned to her with a bright smile. "Off to the superhero thing! Just, you know, gonna be apart of history and not in - oh, a bookstore until 6:30." Hands digging into his pocket, Anselle pulled a tangled bunch of earbuds out, fingers getting to work undoing the knots. "Jealous?" Anselle asked, to provoke, for fun.

Nalani's face was furious, nose flaring - she opened her mouth, veins standing out against her neck, taking a deep breath. "Nah," she said, looking down to her phone. "Nah, not even a little."

Hanging onto the threshold of the door, Anselle pursed his lips at Nalani, squinting her way. "You're gonna be so bored," he whispered, door closing behind him. On the street, his eyes immediately found his trusty bike - leaning up against the front of the building and secured with a lock. Popping in his earbuds, Anselle pulled his keys out his pocket, lock coming off and stored away in his backpack.

Legs thrown over his bike, Anselle fingers selected a song, humming as the first notes hit his ears. "I'm feeling classics today, how about you?"

"Next stop, greatness." Pushing off the ground, Anselle began to ride forward, pedaling faster and faster, getting into a steady speed. The beat of his music helped, feeling his head bob along to the rhythm, mouth opening to sing along.

"Children behaaave!"

[♫ That's what they say when we're together ♫]​

Anselle's teeth showed at the strange singing inside his head, but hey, he wasn't gonna stop.

"And watch how you play!"

[♫ They don't understand and so we're- ♫]​

Pedalling faster, Anselle's breath was lost as a chuckle, catching it as he kept up the song. "Runnin' just as fast as we can!" Anselle felt his hands tighten around the handlebars, legs burning with the effort.

[♫ Holding on to one another's hands. ♫]​

"Tryin' to get away into the night-"

Rounding a corner, Anselle sped down the street. "And then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground, and then you say-"

[♫ I think we're alone now. ♫]​

Anselle gave a cheeky look to the people along the street, practically nonexistent to him in the moment. "There doesn't seem to be anyone around."

[♫ I think we're alone now. ♫]​

Breath fluttering in his chest, Anselle blasted off through the streets.

"The beating of our hearts is the only sound."

[♫ The beating of our hearts is the only sound. ♫]

​

 

[Mobley Eats]

Nellie King


Location: Loco Latte Cafe
Interactions: Civilians
Status: Feeling... Decent

Coffee. She needed coffee--stat. Well, okay, Nellie could admit that she needed far more than just a cup of piping off liquid cocaine; an extra shot of the actual drug wouldn't hurt either. Sleep avoided her like the bubonic plague last night and there was no way she could fool herself into concocting some half-assed reason for it.

She knew the truth of the matter. All the shit that went down at the diner... really bothered her. Far more than she would've liked. She didn't care what people thought of her. She had no reason to care. ...So why in the hell did she keep seeing images throughout the night? Flashes and taunts and recollections of those looks, overflowing with disapproval and disgust at her actions. Like she was a fucking monster.

Heh. Well... shit, maybe because she was one? So she didn't have a right to feel surprised, not in the slightest. This was who she was and if her weak little subconscious had a problem with it, then she would just have to suffer until her emotions got themselves in check. She supposed that included gorging herself on caffeine until her system spiraled into hypertension and probable stroke territory...

Fuck it. She'd take that chance.

Hence why Nellie found herself taking up residence in a ridiculously long line at Loco Latte. The cafe was located within walking distance of her apartment and she figured grabbing a quick cup before changing back at her place wouldn't take long. Now, did she anticipate the sudden boom of business? Hell no. Of course not. If that were the case, she would've dodged the crowd and cut her losses, but there was no chance turning back. She was here now. Crushed between musky bodies. Their bloody odors overwhelming her senses. Oh God... someone reeked of diabetes. No... No, no--she was jumping the gun. Just an assload of sugar. A serious sweet tooth. Hell, she could've sworn illness wafted from elsewhere, but it wasn't any of Nellie's business.

After a patience-dwindling twenty minutes of waiting in line, Nellie blandly placed her order and accepted her black coffee without sparing the employee a single glance. Her metal-encrusted, freckle speckled smile was just too much innocence for Nellie to bare. Yeesh.

Against Nellie's preferences, she was forced to seat herself in a booth surrounded by customers on both sides, their idle chatter spilling into her skull like cotton. One sip, and a shiver shot down her spine. "Oh fuck me that hits the spot..." she sighed, already lifting the cup to her lips for another soul cleansing sip. However, the woman froze.

Eyes were on her. Very blatant. No stealth whatsoever.

...Nellie slowly lowered her cup, then glanced up.

A pair of wide baby blue eyes pierced through her like a javelin. They belonged to a little boy, who was peeping over the back of his booth with both arms folded over the seat, chin resting atop of it. He watched Nellie's every move like a wordless puppy, the curiosity gleaming in his eyes. And yet, all Nellie could register was this awkward sense of... judgment? Analysis? Either way, some discomfort bubbled up her gut and she squirmed a bit, gaze shifting left and right. "Uh..." She quirked an eyebrow. "Hey?"

Much to her disturbance, the boy didn't say anything. He continued to stare. And stare. And stare... Hokay. Yep. I'm officially creeped the fuck out. Just as Nellie parted her lips to shoo the kid away, he raised his hand, all five fingers splayed, and brought it forward to wave up and down.

That's when it clicked in Nellie's head. Oh... Oh! "O-oh! Uh... Yeah, just--" She flailed a little at first before returning the gesture, features twisting a bit in uncertainty. It'd been so long since she'd communicated via ASL, but this kid clearly had no qualms about tossing it in her face. Or talking to her to begin with. Either way, she let loose a sigh of relief when the boy smiled, gleeful at her ability to understand him. Without pause, he lifted that same hand in a stop motion, then tapped the fingers of his other hand, and finished it off in a shrug motion, waving his hands a little.

"What is your name?"

Nellie bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder; this was... kinda weird. But fuck it. There wasn't a law against holding civil conversation with some random kid, right? Uh... Unless she looked like some kinda pedophile or kidnapper in the process. Oh god. She was overthinking. Banish the thought! "Err... My name is N. E. L. L. I. E."

"Hey, Nellie. I'm C.O. L. E." He eyed her coffee. "What are you drinking? Chocolate milk?"

A low snort escaped Nellie. As if. She couldn't even remember what chocolate tasted like. "No. Just black coffee."

Cole's nose scrunched up. Definitely disgusted. "Ew. That's gross. You should get chocolate."

"I wish. But I need this to feel human. I'm tired."

"You should take a nap then."

"I tried, but I can't." She faltered, trying to find the right words. "Lots of bad dreams."

Nellie didn't know how to feel about the pity that spread about Cole's features. Or... was that supposed to be sympathy? "Yeah, bad dreams are hard. I use a night light. I'm scared of the dark." His lips pursed. "Are you scared of the dark?"

"No."

"Then what are you scared of?"

Nellie hesitated; nothing about this line of conversation sat well with her and yet, she couldn't deny the familiarity coursing through her veins. Taunting her. Comforting her. Deceiving her. She barely knew this kid and yet, he seemed so much like... Her jaw clenched and she forced herself to answer before reluctant got the better of her. "I'm scared of myself."

The absolute embodiment of skepticism infected Cole's visage and his head tilted. "But you're not scary." Then, he flashed a toothy grin. "I like you."

Nellie had to bite the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. Fucking kids. What sort of super power did they have? It was unfair. Then, another woman's head appeared over the booth and she pulled Cole down back into his seat. "Cole, what have we said about talking to strangers?" Suddenly, the motherly warmth in her voice vanished as she sliced into Nellie with a glare. "Don't talk to my son, if you don't mind."

"...Right." Her teeth sunk even deeper into her cheek. "Sorry." Without waiting for a reply, Nellie evacuated her booth with her coffee in two and head back to her apartment, her pace measured but hasty. God--she hated people.

...But Cole was alright. She guessed.

The rest of the walk passed in short time and once she ascended to her room and slipped her metal suit into her patented duffel bag, it was all a matter of changing in the middle of some crummy alley way.

Time to endure this fucking conference...

 

[KatSea]

The Whittakers

"The soft gleam of the velvet stream of moonlight cascading through his hair revealed the luxury that many women before myself must have indulged in..." Jem's bright red pen made a strike through the already battered and torn page, his lips curled upwards as he peeked over to his sister. "Hold on, this is a run on sentence, it literally goes for another paragraph..." Jem tapped the edge of his pen to the corner of his mouth, pressing the ball of the pen into the crease of his grimace. "Ah wait, here we go. He stood, erect, chest broad and inviting despite the....hold on that's spelt wrong, strips of thin white scars that coated his skin. I wanted to run my hands across the battered and beaten flesh...ew? Inviting him to me, pulling him to me, comforting him and letting him know that his scars told a story, a beautiful one, an imperfect mess of deceit and..."

"I think that's another run on, Jem. Good God is this a thriller or is it smut?" Blair's voice peeked up from her barrier of blankets, cradling a small bundle to her chest as she shifted beneath the covers. She draped her fingers gingerly around the bundle, letting her eyes close as Jem continued with his plight. This Strangers on a Train rip off was sending Blair into a drift of boredom and slumber, but she was very aware she needed to prepare for the meeting that awaited later. This little exercise with her brother in editing was just supposed to wake her up, although it proved to do the opposite.

"It says intense thriller but good God this lady is thirsty for this strange man who may or may not have killed her husband back home." Jem's eyes fluttered back into his skull with irritation. "The dumb bimbo thinks he freaking slipped down the stairs, even after she informed this guy on the train about her troubles. Suspicious? I dunno, as long as he's hot I'm sure he's a perfectly nice guy."

"Oooo~ Plot twist, hot guy on the train is actually her husband who faked his death to see if she was gonna cheat on him." She snapped her fingers in the direction of her brother, peeking down at the still bundle settled against her bosom. A ginger, weary smile blossomed along her demeanor. She really would just lie here all day like this if she could...God, would she ever.

"I'll write that down in my convoluted notes for a reasonable plot twist." Jem's grin was palpable against his pale demeanor, kicking both feet up onto the coffee table before him. He twirled his red pen between his fingers, similar to how he would show off when he was playing around with his drumsticks. He stopped suddenly, tapping the tip of the pen to his chin. "Speaking of convoluted...Listen, I know yesterday was sort of rough..." Jem would never reveal it, at least not until Blair got home, but he had went out after she fell asleep to go fetch a couple pies for the family. Blair wasn't the biggest pie person, but he figured it would make up for the troubles she had days previous. "But you are considering going to the meeting, right? I mean...I would...tell them i'm interested..." His eyes glided over to the collection of blankets enveloped by her chest, his breath hitching n his throat. "But I need to stay here. Just as a precaution."

"You are gonna call Vince though, right? Just in case something happens or I need you?" Blair questioned, a chubby pout pronouncing her features.

"Yes, B. I'll call him up just in case you need me or want me to embarrass you in front of your new friends. Cause you know me~ I can do that just fine~"

"I...I think I would rather take my chances." Blair replied cheekily, a sudden rumble and cry causing her to stiffen up immediately, rising to her feet as she cradled her bundle closer and closer. "God...think they would just let me do a skype call? I don't wanna leave."

"Don't worry B, she's in good hands. Just take your time." Jem called back, reaching out for a pair of glasses on the coffee table and whipping them against his features.What could he say? The irony of being far sighted in his career as an editor pulsed with actual, manifested agony. He scribbled a few more lines from the script.

"Should I get dressed there or here?" Blair called out from the kitchen, any fussing or noise soon settling down into a peaceful silence.

"Here, sis. Don't want you walking into a huge building and walking out a dweeb. Waaaay too obvious. Oh, God, first sex scene, oh God she's about to screw her husband's murderer, God, shield my eyes, Christ if you are real you will blind me this sec-

"Your fault for picking up a smut version of Stranger's on a Train!"

"Their fault for writing it!" Jem countered, irritably as a laugh escaped him. "What time should you be back?"

"Later this afternoon, I think. I should be here for dinner again...Should we invite Vince and the crew over?" Blair called out, soon returning from the kitchen to deposit the bundle into Jem's ready arms. He snuggled it swiftly into his chest, holding it with an air of protectiveness.

"Mmmhm. Sounds good to me sis. Now remember, have fun, be safe, good luck, and maybe if you get back at a reasonable hour I'll invite you know who over~"

"Don't even think about it." Blair's reply was a little too shrill, a little too quick, as she raised her hands to tie her hair back into a bun and soon retreated into the bathroom to change. Jem's mischief shone through his hooded eyes, however, a deviant laugh rumbling against his lips. Another shrill cry escaped the bundle, and with a grimace Jem whispered. "Sorry, sunshine."

 

[Mobley Eats]

Benny Law


Location: Unity In Diversity Dance Studio
Interactions: Angelica "Angie" Chymers
Status: Hugs!

One, two, three, four.

A dove. Fluttering, flying, as graceful as one could imagine.

One, two, three, four.

Like clockwork, she twirled mid-air and landed in his waiting arms. Flawless. Effortless. Like a woodland fairy goddess.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

Trust. No matter the beauty and class she emitted, together their chemistry was ethereal. While she danced through the motions and commanded the attention of many, the art form bloomed to fruition with the absolute trust and resilience he provided. Not a single leap would be meet without support. Not a single spin would dazzle the world without his vigilance. Not a single flourish of footwork would breathe without breathing alongside his own.

Push and pull. Leaning on one another. Unyielding trust.

One, two, three, four.

This was why Benny absolutely loved to dance. Especially with his favorite partner Angelica. Well--Angie, for short. If he dared to call her anything in her presence, she would throw a tantrum and playfully slap up a storm across his back... So, yeah, he definitely did it on purpose a few times. But he couldn't help himself. The way Angie's features lit up in a weird mixture of annoyance and delight, her button nose scrunching up like a baby accordion, and to add icing on top of the cake, she would unleash this mousy squeak of "omg, you did not". It was so dang cute!

...Oh. Heh. Rambling.

Dancing. Dancing. We were talking about dance-- "Whoa!"

Luckily, Benny caught Angie just as she crashed into him, her arms raised overhead like a poised ballerina. He safely secured his arms around her waist, then hoisted her up a bit more with relative ease and turned a slow circle, just letting her shine all her graceful glory. However, the routine came to a standstill as Angie broke character and rested both hands on Benny's shoulders. She shot him a curious look. "Welp, you're definitely distracted."

"Whaaaaat? Pshhhht! No! Naw!" Some sweat rolled down the back of Benny's neck. Judging by the unimpressed look on Angie's face, his inability to lie was rearing its pesky little head. In response, the teen sighed and hid his face in her stomach, who didn't fight the motion much. She just patted the top of his head.

"Mhm, keep telling yourself that, bub. Maybe we oughtta rehearse later? Besides!" A simple tap was all Benny needed to release Angie, gently placing her back on her feet. Honestly, no matter how long he'd been dancing with her, he couldn't get over how tiny she was. Well, in comparison to him. He was fairly tall and held a bit more muscle than what was necessary for a 19 year old with a metal plate on his head, but Angie was practically a munchkin. A whole five feet of gentle sass and (Benny just knew this had to be true) sporting a pair of superhuman springs in her legs. And no bones. Her flexibility never ceased to amaze him. Bouncing with every step and clasping her hands behind her back, Angie pranced over to the studio entrance and flipped the sign for "We Closed". "I think that big ole conference is about to go down soon. Got some big shot heroes popping up."

Benny perked up. "Oh yeah! Almost forgot about that."

"Trust me. I know," Angie chuckled. She didn't miss the way her best friend's brow furrowed, whether it was from confusion or something else entirely, she didn't feel too pressed to figure it out. He had a tendency to share his thoughts without hassle anyway--

"Can I order pizza?"

And there it was. Onward to the next subject, as always. It somewhat concerned Angie when they first met, Benny's obvious aversion to discussing his memory issues, but she was wise enough to leave it be. After all these months of living and dancing together, if he still didn't feel comfortable coming forward about it, then it wasn't in her right to push. Everything was perfect the way it was. In one fluid motion, she spun on her heel and skipped over to Benny, reaching towards his head... but she was too short. Which was fine. Benny caught onto her struggles instinctively and lifted her enough to accomplish her objective; Operation Hair Ruffle: Complete.

"Hell yeah you can!" After a short phone call, she then set her sights on a hallway located towards the back of the building and Benny followed without a word. Again--routine. All routine. A door at the end lead them into a general lounge area holding the basic furniture--a few couches here and there, a large coffee table set in the center, a Keurig set up directly next to a water tank (some of the students could be serious caffeine addicts), a modestly-sized flat screen TV, and a few randomly placed storage shelves for personal belongings. Or lost items. Whichever--it was interchangeable.

Despite all of the grace and finesse Angie radiated, she hand no qualms about plopping into the couch like an exhausted potato, her limbs danging off the edge of leather like wet noodles. Of course, Benny wasted no time scurrying in after her and sprawling over the poor girl, practically smothering her like a weighted blanket while letting his head plop to her shoulder. "Dude," she giggled, "Do you have any clue how heavy you are? I'm literally dying via asphyxiation."

"But, like... I'm already here!" If the puppy dog pout never existed, he would be dubbed the inventor of it. Benny didn't have a problem with borderline drowning her in the look and driving her up the wall with misplaced guilt. Christ. That face of his was beyond unfair. Regardless, if Angie was anything, she was a strong-willed woman; thus, she shot back a challenging glare to combat the pout.

Benny didn't budge.

Neither did she.

"..."

"..."

A long stretch of silence.

"Annnnnnng--"

"AUGH!! Fine, fine! Christ, I can't even with you!" Angie admonished while throwing her arms up, which turned out to be easier said than done while trying to maneuver around her friend's body. Whatever exasperation she fought tooth and nail to hold onto evaporated the moment Benny nuzzled his cheek against hers--

Ding!

"HA!"

Benny deflated in misery. "Nooooo..."

The pizza was here. He should've seen this coming, to be perfectly honest. Especially since their favorite pizza joint was just a few blocks down the street from the studio. He could've sworn their arrived way faster than usual, though. Benny was pulled from his pity party when Angie gently poked him in the ribs. "Sweet, sweet nourishment awaits us, dweeb. Thoueth should retrieve it before my waning stomach begins to feast upon thy liver."

Benny blinked.

"What pizza?"

Angie snorted and yet, her smile softened with fondness all the same. "The one I ordered. Surprise!" Just as she predicted, his demeanor brightened more than a beacon in the middle of New York. In a heartbeat, he rolled off of her and started making a mad dash for the front door.

"Awesome, I'm starving!" The last of his screams faded as he rounded the corner. God--what did that boy live on? Pure sugar? Crack? No, that was just him on a natural high; this was nothing compared to a sweets-induced raid. Yeesh. Angie loved Benny to death, she really did, but even she couldn't keep up with him sometimes. A puppy-chipmunk hybrid. Amidst her thoughts, Angie sat up and turned on the TV, idly flipping through channels until the local news came into view.

It wasn't a moment longer that Benny scrambled back into the room. However, his momentum was a tad overkill and sent him sliding clumsily across sleek wood like a half-paralyzed figure skater. Luckily, Angie didn't need any form of precognition to predict his next move.

Pivoting on his toes and manipulating his weight, Benny recovered in a graceful pirouette and struck a poised pose--the exact one that he'd been practicing for a few weeks now. A pleased smile tugged at Angie's lips. "You're improving. Niiiice~."

However, Benny didn't spare her comment any mind and with both hands raised, he rushed out, "I forgot the money. Pizza man's really pissed."

...

...

...

Angie heaved a sigh. "Check my purse."

Nodding rapidly, Benny set off for her bag perched on the rack behind her. God...

She freaking loved that idiot.

 

[Elle Joyner]

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Emoji was gonna flip. Not in a bad way. Not in a way that meant yelling and anger and red faces and locked--Nope. Never mind that thought. But Emoji told her 'always use it, Dory...' and she had most definitely not remembered that rule this time around. The GPS was programmed into her phone, and Mo's address was right there at the top. The problem wasn't remembering the GPS. The problem was that she'd forgotten to remember her phone. And now she was lost. She was lost and despite doing all the hard stuff - like paying the cab driver, finding her way to the subway, making it downtown - she was pretty darn nervous.

Of course, everyone was terribly nice. Amy found most people were, really. They got bad reputations, cause they didn't look super friendly, but she'd asked four people for directions so far, and so far, only three of them had used any nasty words and in the end at least two had pointed her somewhere slightly useful. The problem was, Amy couldn't quite remember to where she needed directions. The hard part about the city was there were a lot of buildings and a lot of them looked the same.

And every building had windows and all the windows showed her face and her face reminded her how she was feeling... It was hard to pretend that everything was peachy when she felt like a squashed grape. And golly, her feet were starting to hurt. When she'd gotten dressed that morning she thought the cute little salmon colored flats were a good idea, but incidentally, they were not walking-shoe material at all, and she was pretty sure she'd need new ones, because one definitely had a small hole worn into the sole. Boy oh Boy... Not a great start.

Pausing, Amy's eyes shifted to a window with several televisions set inside. On each of the varying screens, images were reflecting a major event happening that afternoon - some sort of conference. Politics weren't Amy's strongsuit (mostly because there were way too many names and important information to remember), but this looked worth watching. Only watching the news wasn't going to help her find Emoji. Eyes shifting upwards to the building itself, she sighed and with a modicum of reluctance (because even though she loved people, she wasn't always a fan of admitting she'd made mistakes), she decided it was time to stop wandering around aimlessly... (Amylessly?? Heh.)

Moving to the door, she pulled it open and started up the staircase to the businesses on the upper floors. The first floor she came to appeared to house some sort of studio... From the look of the icons on the sign, dance. Hand twitching at her side, she eyed the closed sign. There were other floors to the building, but they all had businessy names - like Jamison and Co. or Lawrence, Cooper and Cooper Law. Businessmen, she'd found, had a tendency to be rather impatient with her, and while she imagined it was because they were doing super important things and had a lot of work to deal with, she didn't like the huffing and puffing noises they made while she tried her best to explain herself...

That, and the dance studio had lights on, and the man she'd passed in the hallway looked to be some sort of delivery man (albeit kind of a flustered and frustrated one)... Maybe they had just closed, and she'd get lucky.

Raising a hand, fingers twitching before they curled into a ball, she rapped her knuckles against the door.

---

TAGS | @Mobley Eats