alderwitch

1d20+10=28 to hit with the couch, move object.

Natalya drew her hand through the crook of her arm and swept her out onto the floor, stretching her legs to have the stride appropriate for a man of the equivalent size. All the minor deceptions were second nature to her to maintain the disguise as an afterthought while the bulk of her attention was fixed on her opponent and dancing partner. "Well, I'm used to doing this all backwards and in heels, so I imagine we're even." For all of her words, however, she smoothly guided Elena into position on the floor, as graceful as she was doing everything. It was an easy waltz that she led her into, the rise and fall of the beat a gentle back beat as they glided around the dance floor. Natalya was smiling, wickedly as ever, the expression a little strange on the face of her disguise. "I have to say, its a novel experience to be leading with you. Not to mention taller. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to get lifts put in men's dress shoes at the last minute. Do I always get to be the one to lead now, or is this a special occasion?"

"Entertaining." Phantom was a bit stuck on that word as she paused, her face screwing up behind her mask. Her cocked hand fell back to her side, concealed under her robes. That would have been less threatening if the crackling energy hadn't started to pour down from inside her cape and across the floor before wrapping around the new couch, "...Enter-tain-ing?" She turned her glowing white gaze to Jack, tracking what he said at least vaguely while the black leather sofa levitated off the ground a good foot. All she really got from that was that the girl was probably sturdy. "Oh. An assistant? You. Could. Have. Mentioned." And the couch went zipping from its position in front of the TV right at Rogue!

+1 HP for the sneering of the old money set, though. As it is a complication on her sheet.

Alex sighed and restrained the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose as it really wasn't Mark's fault she was getting a headache. Really, she'd gotten spoiled with both Erin and Mike doing so well lately. She took one of those deep breaths that Dr. Marquez was always suggesting to Erin and blew it out, "That's exactly when you should come to us, Mark. We're not going to be upset that you're unhappy, we're gonna try and fix it. Cuz that's what friends do. I'm just trying to give you a little bit of perspective. People deal with the whole feeling bad thing every day and you'll be able to too. I know its new and hard but that's what talking to friends is for. Really."

Taylor stopped at the door at the soft voices and frowned. Not that night time guests were unusual but generally they fell into one of two categories. Superhero friend with a nasty problem or sudden threat. But this wasn't a super hero that Taylor'd been made aware of and Jack was just... letting her into the house? She blinked once as Jack had pitched silent but rather epic fits over every friend of hers that they'd given the information of the super secret lair to but apparently little miss droopy pants was a welcome guest? And she didn't like the way she was eying Jack in the slightest. Taylor summoned the only clothing she could ever manage on the fly - her costume as Phantom. The door to the hallway smacked open, nearly knocked off its hinges with the eldritch force that she'd used to open it. She'd had to settle for that as she'd gone insubstantial with her rising temper. Her hands still glowed with crackly power and the cloak billowed out around her and through the walls. It mostly concealed the ghostly woman who was dressed under its thick folds in a simple bodysuit and thigh length black boots. Phantom hauled one hand back, gathering the crackly power into one fist, "Who the hell are you?"

"If you're trying to distract me from my plans, I must say you're succeeding," a husky voice said from behind her. When Elena turned, there was a handsome young man slouching in an expertly cut tuxedo against one of the columns of the expansive room. The same shade of blonde and the same in-your-face sex appeal that Bombshell had but there the similarities ended. He was angular where Natalya was all curves and when he shoved away from the column to catch up to her, there was the same lethal grace but as masculine as Bombshell was feminine. Before she turned thief, after all, she had been a master spy. After all, she'd disguised herself as a little old lady while in prison for the last fifteen years. The coat was expertly cut and padded to bulk out her shoulders and disguise her naturally narrow waist and when she stopped next to Elena, she was able too look her in the eyes even though Elena knew for a fact that Natalya was a good two inches shorter than she was. Clever make up blunted the fine boned structure of her features, turning them harsher but the small smile was the same as Natalya offered Elena her arm. "I do hope you appreciate my efforts. I last wore this in France, near the end of the War. Seducing a German girl, if memory serves. Despite Dietrich's bold strides, I must say she was very surprised at the end of that little affair. Sadly the sexual revolution was still decades away. Still, I dare say that I made her question her allegiances in more ways than one. Do you still dance?"

Bombshell had chosen her stage well. It was an old money party, the sort of glittering affair popular decades ago. Chances were good that several of the aging blue bloods at the party had also been at the scene decades ago. There was enough of a younger set that Elena wasn't out of place enough to raise more than a few eyebrows and that was more due to being 'new money' rather than young. Little did they know... There was a grand ballroom, its doors opening onto a garden walk where the party spilled out into the gently lit patio and manicured gardens. The entire place was staffed with minor security, and would have been easy for Bombshell to waltz in blindfolded and backwards. Their host was a gracefully aging old woman, around her neck hung the gorgeous sapphire necklace that had been one of Bombshell's most notorious prizes. She'd slipped it right off the woman's neck that night and laughed as she'd slipped out into the gardens and vanished into the night.

"Okay, little shaky," Alex said quietly and walked into his arms. She let out a little sigh as she turned her cheek against his chest. Alex's arms slid around his waist and she relaxed as she listened to the rumble of his voice. "Lets go get something to eat, okay? I bet you're hungry and I didn't eat at all. Too nervous."

I know, Her thoughts were smug and very content underneath the pleasure winding its way through her thoughts like a drug, blunting the sad edges into something much more fevered. It wasn't often for either of them that there was a second chance. It was a chance that both had thought the doors had long been closed on. And Bombshell was very much a carpe diam sort of girl. Also, a very flexible one as she wound herself around the Scarab much as 'his' thoughts wound around her. 'I missed you too. -------------------------- Several hours later, the Scarab would find herself alone in her large bed, waking late in the morning. The sheets next to her still held the impression of tangled warmth although Bombshell had long ago vanished out of the apartment. Instead on the pillow was an invitation to a black-tie event for that night and a single crimson rose. On the side, was scrawled in distinctive swirling cursive, the kind they didn't teach in school anymore: 'Darling, wear red. I'll see you there.' A little digging would reveal that the aging socialite was due to attend, most likely wearing the family heirloom that Bombshell had stolen almost thirty five years ago from a similar function. She did always have a flair for the dramatic.

Alex's eyes flashed at the sharp outburst and she tucked her hand back into her lap, "People suffer. Bad things happen, even to heroes. Look at Erin. At James. At me. A real hero picks up and pushes forward despite that. Your dad is still alive, he's just not here in this world. It could be a lot worse. A lot. I know its hard, Mark, I really do. But this is what other people have to deal with every day. Normal people and supers and bad guys. Everyone has dark times. This is yours. It'll get better, with time but this whole pushing people away isn't going to help anything. We all understand, you know."

The psychic static around Bombshell had faded slightly when she'd recognized this Scarab as 'her' Scarab. She'd never given a straight answer about how she managed to blur herself to the psychic senses but it was at least partially under concious control as Alexander Rhodes had seen it fade a few times as Elena saw it drop away now. The thief tensed at the unfamiliar face beyond the mask and her expression clouded during the explanation. Natalya Browning wasn't enlightened by any stretch but she had seen a great many odd things in her life and she wanted so badly to believe those words that it helped Elena's - Alexander's - case. Bombshell let him keep her hand captured and leaned in to press a soft and tender kiss on familiar lips. "I always did like to date among the older set and that's grown harder and harder to do, sadly. Especially since I can't stand the American obsession with Bingo. Its just a good thing, I suppose, that I'm over little things like gender bias." With her free hand, she reached up to touch Scarab's cheek gently, her bittersweet expression at odds with the witty reparte. 'Its okay,' her thoughts said, a rare gift of trust from her foe to let her shields drop quite so far. 'It doesn't matter. I'm just...' and then they grew jumbled into emotions. Relieved and ecstatic. Meloncholy and sad. In almost a hundred years, there had been a lot of deaths. Too many losses.

"Alex..." The word was a whisper, sighed out from her parted lips and tossed away on the wind. Scarab's words could have been one more mind trick but the physical gesture of the gloved hand against her cheek was no trick. She tilted her cheek into the gloved fingertips, "How...? I saw the funeral, there was a body. You died." She had of course been in jail at the time but her lips curled in a wicked little grin that was very familiar in the memories from the Scarab's predecessor. "I snuck out for the occasion." And back in with no one the wiser.

"Hello!" A petite redhead popped around the corner. She was sixteen but her slender build and wide eyed expression gave her an aura of innocence. Psyche had on her costume, a red bodysuit and white skirt sans mask. She smiled and stuck her hand out for Lady Winter, "Hi, I'm Psyche, welcome to Young Freedom's HQ. Sorry, Wander, I was tinkering with the computers again."

In her day, Bombshell had been considered a statuesque five and half feet tall, these days, she was simply average of height. The blonde waves fell down over one eye again and she gave the Scarab a crooked smile, patiently listening to the the pedantic speech with a fond expression in her eyes before she shook her head, "Now, see, that sounded like the hero you took your name from. He was ever and always on me to reform my wicked ways and 'make good'." She twisted on the ledge to look out over the city, uncaring of the epic drop below her booted toes. She spread her arms wide, chin tilting up like she was dancing with the wind, "Even convinced me - once - to actually try it. It didn't end well. For me." Bombshell swayed at the edge of the ledge, letting her arms drop slightly. "Or for him either. He died not so very long after. And so it goes, so it goes. But I will stop reminiscing and say my part of this little speech. Nothing makes you all chase after me. I steal nothing that isn't insured or that those who I've stolen from can easily replace. I go places you can't and I see things that even you don't and every now and again, I save little old ladies from muggers or pass a long a tip or two that is useful. In return, I keep my immortal and very jaded self entertained. And sometimes, I even kept your predecessor entertained. Is that really so bad?"

Taylor laughed at Moira's statement and shook her head. She patted the baby's back rhythmically, soothing him into a light drowse, "Quick weddings only lead to awkward questions. That get even more awkward when they come true ironically. My mother is still muttering that she would have understand and thinks I should have just told her that we were expecting. No matter what I say about dimensional time travel, I get nothing but disapproving looks. They're even worse when clucking at Jack." She glanced over at Stesha but didn't seem phased at the questioning. Taylor expected some of it as, well, the baby's father was one of the undead. Her friends were actually really polite about skirting around the issue, "Yes, thank goodness. Jack doesn't but the baby seems to be sleeping about what you'd expect for a, uhm, fully human baby. Its been a relief. And its kinda nice that Jack doesn't need to. Except for the feedings, I get a lot more sleep than a lot of new mom's I think."

Irritation flickered across the pretty blonde's face for a moment and she reached up to slide the slender black mask from her face as she took her time in responding. The leather slid down her nose and vanished into a slim pocket on the cat suit. "My 'glory days' are an eternity from here and an ocean away, thank you. I decided to call from the roof once I was finished paying my respects. Something, I rather do doubt you understand in even the slightest, my young opponent." She stretched idly and rolled to her feet in one smooth motion, balancing along the slender ledge with an easy acrobat's grace. Her hips swayed as she meandered to conversational distance. "Neither here nor there. As I often told your predecessor, its all a game and you should lighten up and learn to play it. You'll be much happier and perhaps less prone to suicidal last stands."

How does June 24th work for junior prom?

"And you've always been good with chance," Alex pointed out with a gentle smile, "A little worry is a good thing but don't drown yourself in it or you'll end up crippled with it like Mike was. You know a lot of people with scary world changing power. You're in a school full of them, there's a lot of us to talk to about how we handle that. You'll find your own way too." She paused and sobered a little. Alex reached out to touch his shoulder lightly, "And, Mark, if things did go wrong, we'd stop you. Its what we did for James when he was a conduit for hell on earth. We'd find a way to stop you too. I promise." She squeezed gently, and released him.

"Fall's a nice time of year for it," Taylor agreed and beamed at them both. She gave Moira an awkward one armed hug before shifting the baby up against her shoulder and rubbing his back in the tiny cloak. The baby seemed to approve as that kept all of him out of the sun, his face buried against Taylor's neck. Fortunately for Taylor, he was still full. Fangs were one thing, the whole duel diet was something else that people didn't need to face just yet, "I liked the winter time wedding we had. Well, barring unforseen guests but hopefully you won't have that problem." Taylor scooted down to allow Moira space at the table, "and if you do, we'll take care of it. It's hell on your deposit. I think Jack and are are never going to be able to rent that place again."

Feel free to post up reactions should you like to or whatever. This is an open thread.

Date: June 23rd, 2010 Petite and soft spoken, it was easy to mistake Alexandra Albright's gentleness for fragility. Those who knew her, however, knew that beneath that kindness lurked a stubborn streak and an iron will. Once committed to a course of action, she was near impossible to sway. Those that she cared about had been informed of her intentions before June sixteenth but no one had managed to convince her to alter her course an inch. Like the other members of Young Freedom, she'd agreed to an interview. Unlike the rest of them, she'd arrived dressed in business casual attire, slacks, sandals and a blouse. Oh, and no mask. "I'm Alexandra Albright. I'm a founding member of Young Freedom as Psyche and I'm the majority shareholder of AEON," she introduced herself to the interviewer in her high and clear voice, offering a soft hand shake. Then she turned to the camera, "And I'm one of the so-called Terminus children." Always the planner, she'd 'leaked' her own file to the tv station a few days before. For the next half hour, she answered questions about her origins in a quiet, sober voice as well as her current activities with AEON and Young Freedom. She demured any questions about the origins or identities of her fellow teammates and at the end of the interview, rather than anything flashy, quietly shook the interviewer's hand again and walked off the stage. All in all it was a very calm hour of her life that would change everything.

The voice that chirped across the communicator was high and young sounding, "Of course. Civvie or super hero? If she's the former, I can arrange a safe house instead if that would be more appropriate." Alex was actually at the base herself and she kicked across on the rolling chair over to the massive computer array, "Whatever you need."

For OOC stuffs! Continuation of the one the only. (I need to add the link in)

Just how Bombshell managed to evade both the Scarab and Avenger, neither of them were ever quite certain of. But she did indeed wiggle out of that net and a few more as she waged her 'game'. Refreshingly, however, as long as Scarab didn't violate her odd rules, she stuck to them herself. Who said there was no honor among thieves? The week drew to a close with the stakes distressingly close. Scarab foiled about half of her crimes while the other half Bombshell got away with by a tight margin. In all of those instances, however, it had become quite clear that Bombshell thought this Scarab was a pretender to the name. It was true to form, however, that Scarab received a call late Thursday night from yet another disposable cell phone. "Darling," Bombshell said, drawing the word out with faint hints of her original upper crust accent. Tracking the phone call would reveal she was sitting on top of the high rise roof of pyramid plaza, dressed in her skintight black bodysuit. For once, she wasn't hidden to Scarab's perception, which meant that she actually wanted to talk. "Tick-tock, tick-tock. Ready to concede the game?"