Fast Enough (Closed)

[Ambrosia_64]

"I intend to open a lot of doors for you, Alex-metaphorically." Her tone was both flirtatious and authoritative, a measure of independent, maybe even domineering spirit. She paused and gave him a considering look, her red painted lips slightly pursed. "Perhaps literally as well? How did you get in there, anyway?" Hm. "Slipped in and waited for the shop to close down? What would you have done come morning, bull rush the owners?" The second question was mostly in jest, another imprudent grin-and then he mentioned disguises and his intent to accept her assistance.

She lit up, her smile dazzling and her eyes glittering with mischief. "A brave proposal! Little time to waste then-we will hit the streets tomorrow night, and you'd best dress the part. No slouches to be seen with me, no sir."

Rachel found a small coat closet and opened it to inspect the contents, the hangers scraping against the metal bar as she pushed them aside. After a huff of displeasure she chose an overcoat clearly meant for a man and drew it on. "I neglected to bring my car." She explained somewhat, pulling the half cowl off and balling it up in her hand, pocketing it while her other hand ran through and undid her braid, fluffing out the blonde waves expertly.

Despite the drab coat she managed to look alluring, a picture perfect, devastatingly beautiful face that belonged on a magazine. She didn't care about him seeing her face. It wasn't like she had a public life or a day job. Besides, depending on her mood and the way the cards fell, he'd probably end up seeing a whole lot more-but nevermind that.

"We'll head to one of my apartments, dress you up." She seemed entirely too excited by the prospect, amused. The entire encounter was a whirlwind of bold suggestions. She was so very glad to have found a bit of entertainment.

 

[Ephemeron9]

Alex was worried she'd ask explicitly as to how he got in to that vault, as it would really put him on the spot for committing to either disclosing his method of infiltration or tell a lie. He wasn't sure if there were untold laws of secrecy among the meta-humans, the same way criminal specialist hold secrets from one another, but her entirely unconcealed display of her power to phase through solid metal mere seconds ago had made him think that perhaps this woman had no concept of privacy, and was relieved when he heard her distracted over the prospect of dressing him up like a full-sized, flesh-and-blood doll.

...and, if not for this Ms. Rachel suddenly showing up and magically unlocking the hatch for you, how exactly did you think you were going to get out of this vault with any amount of treasure in hand? He reflected to himself, oops.

Throwing on a modest looking, but no doubt ridiculously expensive fur coat, Alex peered briefly beyond the old fashioned wooden-framed window cryptically reinforced with hidden technology. The sky outside was pitch black, and what brief flashes of starlight that pierced the gathering clouds merely accentuated the darkness. With any luck, the speedy little heroine would be in bed by this time, and even if she wasn't he still had hope that she wouldn't be skimming the streets, profiling every man in long coat as she had once seemed to consider doing.

"Shall we be on our way?" Turning back toward Rush, Alex gestured towards the doorway of the jeweler store--the metal folding gates had been drawn over the main entrance, and was locked down with chains and lock. There was probably enough gaps between there for him to squeeze through as amorphous vapor, but he wasn't ready to reveal his own power as heedlessly as Rachel did, not to mention the lost opportunity to feel the inside of his new coat.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"Shall we be on our way?"

"I did say I'd open doors~" Came the agreeable, almost sing song reply before she drew her right hand back, green eyes flicking to him to see if he was watching, that blurred look to her fingers and hand again. With a grin and a thrust of her blurred hand, she phased through the lock. Then, with a twist of her wrist and a metal clinking noise, the heavy padlock popped open. She withdrew her hand in an almost boastful fashion, before giving a dismissive wave to the chains and grate.

"A hand for a lady?" She inquired, removing the lock from the heavy chains and bending to take one of the handles in hand form the grate. She wasn't sure why she was letting him think her abilities were less than what they were. Fun, cover, a bit of amused disinterest in self preservation. Or was it disinterest? One could argue she was in fact, for once, being prudent. After all, should he prove trecherous, he would think he had a chance of getting the drop on her.

And...he might not want her openly parading about in public...but surely she couldn't be denied a bit of fun while she waited? And why not? It wasn't like the upstart could possibly hope to stop her.

All harmless fun. That was all.

She walked them down to the corner and then some before a taxi slowed for them without her calling for it or so much as giving a hailing wave. "Ah, perfect."
///////////////////
Roderick gave the tall glass of a water an appraising look as she slid into the back seat of his cab, her green eyes catching his and favoring him with a warm, knowing smile.

Wow.

His eyes flicked to the fellow with her, an impressed nod of approval before he faced forward again, adjusting his collar.

"So uh, where to folks?"

"Corner of 17th and Centerbury, please." Her voice was nice too. It was rather difficult not to imagine or think about other things, listening to it.

He shifted the car into gear and started on his way, reaching to start the meter-and catching another glance in the rearview as she spoke up again. "It's not terribly far." He stopped short. She had let that coat fall mostly open, languidly crossing her long legs and leaning back into the seat. The front of that clingy costume was cut down to her navel. Jesus Christ.

Trying not to stare-too much-he took his hand away from the meter. She favored him with another smile, and he focused-with great effort-on the road. Played so easily-but he wasn't very sore about it.

 

[Ephemeron9]

When Alex saw the eyes of the driver as he approached the two standing figures, he almost thought those eyeballs would jump right out of their tired socket, making a B-line for Rachel's collar.

Over the next several seconds, he learned two things--that the woman sitting beside her has got a body to die for, and that she knows just exactly how to make use of this weapon, probably in more ways than one.

Attractive women weren't an uncommon sight in the world's criminal underbelly, and there were no shortages of rumored femme fatale. Nevertheless, to see a woman of such autocratic beauty and such effortless mastery in the art of exploitation and, extrapolating from what evidence he could find, forthright power was something he didn't think plausible until today. Beside, Rachel struck him as someone who would put on her outlook of lethal charm even when no one is looking, unlike some of the human pets he had witnessed in the past while working as overseers of exactly those carnal slaves. That meant one of two things--that Rachel was ready to strike whomever whenever behind a mask she never takes off, or that her facade has integrated into her being as a part of herself.

Either way, it meant that it would be advisable for him to keep on his on disguise, as well as to be on his guard. Anything can happen around this woman, for all he knows, she is presently hauling him towards her private slaughterhouse.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Rachel gave the driver a parting smile and wave, keeping steady eye contact through the rearview until she was out of the car.

They were around the corner from her third favorite apartment, minutes away from a closetful of flamboyant costume pieces and dashing bits of attire for men and women-and a good glass of wine. With an incline of her head she set on her path, leading the way with her hands in the coat's pockets.

"Now what shall we do for you, Alex? You must have a mask. Everyone needs a good mask. Really makes a statement. Perhaps a leotard in a color that brings out your eyes? A cape? A-" She laughed, that same wonderful one. *Studded leather jacket?"

She mused over such things as they approached a classy enough entrance-but it lacked a doorman, and its location wasn't exactly uptown. Still, the lobby was rather...expensive looking. Something like a grand hotel. She veered left, taking his hand as her steps picked up a bit.

"Or something different, something less punkish but classy. A gentlemanly look to offset our antics." Up the stairs they went, not quite running-but fast paced, fun. She laughed.

He might notice they were passing doors with keypads. Each one looked to be the frontdoor to a house-sturdy oak and maple pieces meant to withstand elements they would never see. When they came to a french style door with glass panels Rachel stopped, tapping in a code with deft, graceful fingers-and throwing open the door.

She released his hand and strode inside, lights coming on as she passed-low lighting rather than blinding overheads, the deep burgandy red walls looking rich and decadent. This was definitely an expensive apartment. More of a flat, taking up what looked to be the entire floor. A modern stainless steel kitchen could be seen on the left and an open, lavish living room on the right, slightly sunken in and holding matching burgandy red couches and chairs, all comfortable, all seemingly inviting. A bar with red cushioned stools on the far side of this, large glass windows facing the city lights beyond that.

Rachel hardly glanced at any of it, continuing past towards the rear bedroom-another room with a wall of windows and just as lavishly decorated-fine paintings on the walls, plush carpeting with fur rugs and throws, a four poster, king size bed with black drapery and matching furniture-and a fire place on the wall at the foot of it.

And this was just ONE of her apartments? Perhaps she was a more successful thief than one might have thought. She seemed to be in her early thirties, and she must have spent her twenties building quite the fortune.

Which, of course, she had.

Sailing through the room and into a large closet, the light was brighter within as she began to search through the many hanging clothing items, pulling piece after piece down. Purples, dazzling blues and reds-flamboyant pieces. But no, no-these wouldn't do...

She dropped them smack on the floor and turned, looking through another section entirely. "A suit. We are planning to go out on the town, aren't we? Hm..."

Dinner jackets with coattails, deep red dress shirts, tuxedos and quick change pieces-she drew it all down.


"Perhaps a hat as well? Ah, they never stay in place though, do they?" It wasn't clear if she was speaking to him or herself. When she finally exited the closet, she was carrying far too many items to possibly be tried on in one sitting. She tossed them on the bed.

"Look through these, choose your fancy. I get final say, of course-you promised." And a wink.

"I'll go see about a mask, and maybe some toys to play with, gadgets of some kind. Let me see what I have of those-" And she sailed out of the room and into some other door down the hall. Well, she was certainly enjoying herself, setting him up proper.

 

[Ephemeron9]

Despite his best efforts of pretending to be well acquainted with finery, Alex couldn't help being impressed as he followed her through door after door, each revealing a room of greater, more wonderful splendor. Luckily for him, Rachel seemed too absorbed in pondering over the proper apparel to dress up the secretly ignorant boy to notice his amazement in walking through so lavish a place after a woman so used to it all.

Proper residence? It would be the difference between heaven and earth if he could persuade her to share no more than a single closet as his living space. Speaking of which, Alex was presently overtaken by the sheer immensity of the woman's stockpile of dresses that most people would never dream of seeing. How many lifetimes exactly would it take for her to wear them all?

Beside his bewilderment, he was nevertheless quick to realize the magnitude of this woman's material means, and her willingness to exploit whatever advantage she had to amass her enormous possession, which by the comment on how the residence at hand is only one of many, would overshadow any of his previous employers whose wealth he had seen.

"Look through these, choose your fancy. I get final say, of course-you promised." Alex returned her remark with a knowing smile and nod, and watched as the tall figure left his sight. As much as her situation and demeanor seemed beyond his comprehension, Alex comforted himself in thinking that her motivation was at least fathomable--namely, she seemed to concern herself mostly with the matter of enjoyment. That being so, if he could make himself an adequate provider of amusement for her, perhaps the exotic riches around him wasn't so far from his grasp after all.

Thinking so, he threw on a black, longish suit with coattails than ran to a level just beyond his knees, and strapped on a matching pair of trousers that accentuated the sturdy length of his thigh and shin in uniform widths that contrasted the woman's conspicuously well-shaped legs. He adjust the collar of his suit, buttoning it shut down the middle and transforming the contrastively plain-looking clothes he "wore" back into a part of his body.

"Surprising that I made something tolerable for her to look at right after transforming out of a cardboard box." He thought to himself. Had he been shabbier looking, she might have opened up his skull the same way she popped the locks back in the vault. Now all he has to do his hope that she doesn't have indoor surveillance set-up to observe how he simply strapped the new outfit over his old ones (that were really part of his shape-shifting body) without looking bloated, but just in case she does, he bowed to the most likely location of a hidden camera, and smiled.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Rush perused another, racier closet that had no door in a guest room that had never been used. She had the closet sealed off, inaccessible to anyone without explosives or phasing abilities or the speed and control to vibrate one's cells through walls. Besides-who would know it was even there?

It was also where she kept some of her more...racy items, not that they would have embarrassed her for anyone to see. She had a cabinet full of them in her room, after all.

She opened a drawer and considered the contents. On the one hand, she would like to give him an item or two in case of bothersome little brats. It paid to be prepared. On the other hand, gadgets that were good against speedsters hardly seemed prudent to just give away to any questionable bedfellows found sleeping in vaults.

Why was she outfitting him at all? Like a patron saint of villainy? Because she was bored. It would also be an added layer of cover, working as a pair. And, if need be-he would be a fall guy. But why on earth would Mistress Rush need a stooge to soak up blame? She was wanted in so many states! Ah, hilarious.

He was also either playing his own resources down, or he was actually rather unequipped-she wasn't sure which scenario amused her more. She didn't think he had wealth. Less because of snobbishness and more because he seemed...hm. Well, a patron saint she would be, for now. However long it amused her for. And who knew? He might be capable of more than just amusement, and a metahuman contact was a good contact, depending on the power.

But no, she would not arm him with tools he could use on her.

Of course, he didn't KNOW she was a speedster... Rachel tapped the wooden surface of the dresser. If he went out without her, she supposed he would just have to rely on his own talents. ...whatever they were. Her eyes narrowed. She wasn't the only one keeping her cards close, even if she pretended lackadaisical dismissal. She removed the velvet bag of shiny baubles and dropped it in a drawer full of all sorts of stolen treasures, already half forgetting what she had taken from the business. She unvelcro'd her belt and attached two of the round, metal devices to it, leaving it on the dresser. She also removed the two straps around each thigh, one of which held her whip.

She hardly needed the weapon...she just liked it.

Scooping up the pile of masks she had set aside, Rush exited almost absent mindedly-she barely had to think about it, these days-and strode back down the hall and into the room without so much as a knock. It was her room, after all.

Ah. "Oh, so very classy." She said approvingly, coming a bit closer and boldly circling him, a study. "It fits you so well too-hm." She considered the good luck in such a thing only a moment-before she began to hand him masks one by one. "You should have a cane. It'd be so very dapper. I have a contact that could make a weaponized one of some kind, too-go full campiness, why not?"

She liked all this.

"Can you imagine looking so very formal, making mischief? What on earth will the papers think, once they catch onto you?"

Rachel was not always the most observant of people. She did not question where his previous attire had gone, half assuming it was in the pile of unchosen clothing items on the bed-not that she really considered the subject at all.

 

[Ephemeron9]

As reciprocation to her suggestion of exaggerated style, Alex briefly propped up his chest and planted his hands by his waist—making himself a brief caricature of some antique gentleman as perceived from a contemporary and very likely ignorant perspective.

In truth, he had chosen his current dress with only the barest attention to its appearance, and appearance as it was when the item laid folded in the heap of clothes on the bed. The fact that its dark, unsaturated coloration served well as a foil to Rachel’s flamboyant outlook, and that the apparel’s angular geometry contrasted well with her buxom outline were mere coincidences, though miraculous ones at that. Nevertheless, he thought that he deserved her praise at least in part, since the minor adjustments to his own physical shape had contributed positively to the holistic appearance.

“A weaponized cane?” At her remark, he made his own, “my, if such a dashing good look cannot subdue my enemies, I fear nothing will.” From his peripheral, Alex noticed the absence of Rachel’s whip that hung by her thigh minutes ago. Is this some sort of signal? A gesture of trust and friendship? No, he wasn’t so easily put off guard, especially not around a woman such as the one presently circling around him.

He couldn’t be sure what exactly she was capable of, but the power to phase through solid object and to manipulate them from within were evidently constituents of her supernatural repertoire. His shape-shifting body could insulate him from many forms of attack—blades weapons are useless against him as they are useless against a pool of water, but blunt weapons and large-diameter projectiles could easily wisp off consideration quantities of his body mass. He had never let his body mass drop below 25%, and he did not intend to find what would happen if he did. Seeing Rachel’s ability to seemingly tamper with the basic composition of solid material made him worry that—if she wished—she could, with a single touch, disperse him as effortlessly as a hair dryer can disperse a puff of steam. ...and just to make his ignorance of her real power more dangerous still, he had, on top of the others, a critical vulnerability to fire.

“What on earth will the papers think, once they catch on to you?” She commented. Looks like the dress-up affair hadn’t distracted her from the original purpose of all these cosmetic preparation. As such, Alex remembered, as well, his own intention in staying around this woman, beside the promise of material profit. “I only hope there wouldn’t be a city-wide ban on fancy dresses once we make the headlines,” he quipped, “but I suppose we will see if that would be the case soon. Perhaps such prohibition would make us stand out more, for better or for worse.”

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"Definitely better." She grinned. "Why don't you head home and meet me here tomorrow night, hm? Bring your costume."

////////////

The honors student and secret heroine was dead asleep in her dorm room-the cramped space at the end of the Academic Wing hardly more than a glorified closet, but at least she didn't have to deal with a roommate. Still in yesterday's clothes, Jenna Paige slept deeply and soundly, barely stirring throughout the few hours of sleep she had gotten-until her alarm began to blare.

Her brow furrowed as she mumbled something incoherent in Tagalog, squeezing her eyes tightly closed and resisting the urge to pick up the offending cellphone and chuck it out the window. She rolled onto her back and scooped the phone up, sleepily taking in the dark grey alarm clock display and hovering over the snooze button before, with a sigh, she clicked 'off'. Jenna dropped her arm and stared at the ceiling a moment. Well, time to study...

She stretched and popped to a sitting position, shaking off the grogginess and feeling a lot more positive about being awake. It was a new day! Time to study! Time for class! Time for coffee with Sami and then another night on the town! Awesome!

But first-a shower. She had been tired enough to just collapse as soon as she got home from the tunnel base, and in her street clothes no less-so that would be a good start.

It wasn't until she was coming back in frumpy pajamas with her hair in a towel, carrying her toiletries in one of those plastic carrier things-that her watch went off. Jenna glanced at it with a frown. Even more worrisome was the phone call she received later that day, while she was on lunch. Uh oh.

/////////////////////////////

It was a mess. Drawers had been pulled out and dumped, various rings had been tossed and discarded, pearled necklaces and ruby stones and diamonds scattered across the floor-someone disrespectful had certainly been through here.

"I...I can certainly try to help, detective, but I'm not sure what I can do that you can't, with this...?"

"It's one of you." The grizzled officer pointed to a broken, dangling camera and sensor in the far corner. "See there? Someone broke it. Tape shows an empty, locked vault-and then suddenly cuts out. Next thing you know, owners shows up to a trashed, open vault and grate. What's worse, the thieves left the place open over night-luck that no one else came through."

Jenna nodded slowly, frowning as she surveyed the scene further. So someone with powers? Well, the only one in town she knew of aside from herself was the chameleon Alex-assuming that was even his real name. Could he do other things? Make himself invisible? That seemed...kind of plausible. But how would invisibility help him fake his death? There were a lot of unanswered questions there. She was still on pins and needles about him-he hadn't made another appearance on campus...that she knew of. She was just glad he hadn't plastered her name on a billboard somewhere.

Jeez.

But why leave so much stuff behind? And how had he opened the vault from inside? Didn't make any sense. When she later asked the owner if his sons or employees had worked late the night before, he was almost offended. She hadn't meant to imply someone there had something to do with it-she was worried Alex had masqueraded as one of them to gain access.

Didn't explain the camera, though. Maybe a gem hungry ghost? Or Alex wasn't the only criminal metahuman in town...a troubling possibility.

But, either way-they wouldn't be able to outpace her, should they start a spree. Sooner or later, she'd catch up.

 

[Ephemeron9]

Alex found himself smiling with genuine glee as he followed Rachel through the curtained entrance to the nightclub's balcony, reserved usually for VIPs. While he had never been to this particular club before, and he can't see the woman presently settling down by a round table with a view over the raving crowds below to have the sort of patience for something as mundane as registering for a club's membership, he felt, in a way, that they were in fact deserving of the status of VIPs, given their outstanding efficiency in the "persuasion" of what few guards there were sealing off access to this otherwise unoccupied place.

Hitting up that high-end clothing shop today had been everything he had hoped for, and then some--the paired had robbed the store blind hours before its grand opening, and beside filling their pockets with the content of a futilely hidden safe before appropriating innumerable dresses, which might explain in part why his companion has such a vast store of fashionable attires, they even posed up the mannequins in the store in a grotesque arrangement, primed to terrify the unsuspecting costumers and staff when the door opens. They even set up a mannequin with a horrid drawn face which would drop down from the ceiling with a makeshift rope around its neck if the owners attempted to enter the backroom where their precious, heavy-duty safe that offered no more resistance to the rogues than a sticky note with "please don't steal" written on it.

While no one would be exactly hurt, at least not to his best knowledge, he was sure that more than a few of the unwitting participants in their miscellaneous mischief would have had paroxysmal heart-attacks if they were constitutionally vulnerable. As well, Alex had realized how easy it actually is to be an undetected menace to society, with nothing beside the willingness and confidence to do so--they hadn't relied on their supernatural powers nearly as much as he thought they would, even if they were more efficient than two thieves with lock-picks and socks over their heads.

"I didn't think they would place so differently styled features so closely together." Alex said, lighting the candle in a glass bowl on the quaintly fashioned dinner table with a freshly...obtained...lighter that he was sure cost fortunes as he gave the madly raging crowd below the balcony an indicating look.

Even from this distance, the drunken mania of the club-going celebrants were palpable--in comparison to the two watching from up high, their mindless reveling seemed pathetic; sporadic bursts of dopamine to help them drag through the banal mire of life that the two of them, or at least Rachel, spend in what is essentially a never-ending festival of varied thrills and refinement.

Nevertheless, despite his ability's passive regeneration of his body and mind, Alex was glad to sit down in the comfortable ornate chair across from his companion and allow himself to rest, at least physically. It might strike whomever raving below as strange to see two people sitting by the balcony when the area is supposed to be off limits at this juncture, but Alex doubted the intoxicated number below would pay any mind to them.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Men had always been easy for Rachel. Charming them into doing what she wanted was second nature to the leggy blonde-and part of her, a large part, detested them for it. But ah, it certainly made things easier.

"It is a contrast." She agreed, crossing her legs and resting her graceful hands on one knee. She was wearing one of the appropriated outfits now-a striped pantsuit of all things. Underneath which was her costume-and her high heeled wedge boots, of course. The gender swapped outfit looked definitively feminine on her figure, drawing many an eye on the way in. She even had a matching fedora, her long blonde hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders and the back of the blazer.

After a few moments, a waitress finally made her way up to deliver the drinks Rachel had ordered at the door. Accepting the glass of wine with a graceful, regal air of dismissal, she brought the glass to her lips without ever taking her eyes off the crowd below. "This isn't quite exciting enough, is it?" She mused, a sip of the wine. For a moment, one might wonder if she was going to suggest they join the crowd. But her thoughtful, musing expression shifted, a mischievous glint in her green eyes as she turned them to him.

"I'd like more a show, wouldn't you?"

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

"We're supposed to open in an hour." The manager was wringing her hands, pacing back and forth at the front of the store. Her assistant manager was being looked over by paramedics, signs of hypertension-he had nearly had a heart attack, that mannequin dropping down like that.

"The store will be in a shape to do so, and insurance will take care of the stolen items in the meantime, miss." An officer assured her, adjusting his hat and giving a glance towards the sole member of the impromptu clean up crew.

The blue blur was all over the store at once, flitting this way and that and leaving cleaned up displays and righted racks in her wake, undoing what damage she could. There weren't very many clues. Someone had waltzed in through the back door, the lock's tumblers twisted and mangled where the lock had seemingly been destroyed from within. It didn't make a lot of sense-not to the cops, and not to Jenna. She still suspected that Alex fellow to be involved, but just how extensive were his abilities?

 

[Ephemeron9]

"I wonder," At Rachel's suggestion, Alex placed a hand thoughtfully on his sharply outlined chin, taking a sip of the wine that were little more than spoiled fruit juice for his alcohol-immune body. Supposedly every advantage comes with draw-backs, oh well. With the unspoken acquiescence out of the way, he continued "whether these people had grown callous to the daily grind--that they had prepared themselves for a state of mindless oblivion after the tedium of life. Perhaps even their orgasmic celebration are just something routine." He gestured to the crowds below, "Wouldn't it be a service to them as well, if, say, something simultaneously thrilling and sobering were to take place? Only what an event could that be?" He pondered with a lighthearted pretense of melancholy, and looked towards the ceiling.

Above the sparkling disco ball and various pyrotechnic mechanism were a network of hidden walkways, wires and pipes, the latter of which ended in many places with sprinklers--all painted black as the ceiling itself to conceal it all from the writhing crowd below, lest they break their immersion by becoming aware of how they were in essence doing nothing different than do in their offices--slaving away for their wants and needs--not that such immersion was easy to break for those at the height of revelry.

"Do you think..." Alex asked, a conniving grin spreading across his lips, "that they would have high-definition monitors in the same room they keep the manual switch for the sprinklers?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"Wouldn't it be a service to them as well, if, say, something simultaneously thrilling and sobering were to take place?"

"You're so very compassionate, Alex." Rachel mused, her green eyes shifting to him and glittering curiosity and wit-even as she arched a brow. Waiting, almost as if this were some sort of test she was putting him through.

Her ruby painted lips curved into a smile, a dazzling flash of teeth. His idea was a start.

"Ooh, I like the way you think." She rose to stand, graceful hands curling over the top of the balcony wall and the woman leaning slightly over it, peering down at the writhing, jostling bodies below. Dousing them all with water would be funny, but would it do much more than annoy the crowd? No...perhaps it could be icing on the cake, instead.

"I think I know how to set the sprinklers off." Her eyes were on the little doorway that led to the coat check, the front door. "I'll take care of that. You, in the meantime, go out and around back. Bar the doors from the outside, and meet me in the office right..." Her eyes ran along the edges of the club, roaming over the DJ booth, the bar-and catching on a set of stairs that protruded from the wall and led up to a small cube that had to be the office. "There." She cast a glance backwards, a knowing smile. "Don't tarry too long now."

And with that, she turned and stepped back into the hall that led to their VIP balcony, heading down the opposite direction they had come up.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

The manager's office had been empty-just a bank of unmanned monitors showing various corners of the dance floor and all entry points, including the back doors Alex had just barred, a small side door into an alley, and the front door. No camera was set up in the Coat Check room and adjoining hall that led to the front door, nor one aimed at this office.

A tall, overdressed blonde woman was shown striding across the dance floor to the office, slipping a small flip phone into her pocket. She entered and grinned at him. "Ready for a show?"

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Jenna's watch vibrated, the speedster heroine giving it a glance as the map popped up, feeling a little grim as she read the code. It was shaping up to be a very busy night, jeez. Well, she wasn't exactly out here to play checkers, was she? Cutting a sharp right, the blue blur lengthened-and then was gone.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

Shanda had wanted to go dancing with her friends, but here her boyfriend was crashing the party, demanding she dance with him if she wanted to be dancing so bad-but then hanging all over her, making it impossible TO dance. She was embarrassed and angry. She loved him, but was it so much to ask for just one, ONE girls' night out? Christ.

Fed up with his whole...planted feet and swaying hips bullshit, Shanda gave him a push with her shoulder and elbow, turning to face him. "C'mon, go get us some drinks and lemmie dance with my fri-" She started to say, but he had a weird look on his face. Shit, had she hurt his feelings? "You smell that?" He asked, tipping his head back and drawing in another breath through his nostrils, his frown deepening. "Uh, no. Pot or som-" "We gotta leave. Now."

He grabbed her by the upper arm and began to spirit towards the front of the building, his face as serious as she'd ever seen him. "Ron, what the hell?" She jerked her arm free and scowled. "One night a week isn't going to-" "I said now-" And then she smelled it too-smoke.

People were slowing up near them, looking around a little worriedly-and then the music cut out, the DJ's previously almost unintelligible voice blaring out. "PLEASE CALMLY PROCEED TO THE EXIT DOORS AT THE BACK OF THE BUILDING! DO NOT EXIT OUT THE FRONT-THAT IS WHERE THE FIRE IS!"

As soon as the word 'fire' was out of his mouth, the crowd surged towards the back doors. Closer to the front, Shanda froze up-only to be jerked slammed into by a larger man sprinting from somewhere behind her and to the right. She knocked into Ron-who steadied her, spiriting them both towards the rush of people.

///////////////////////////////////////////
The backdoors weren't packed yet, but that would change soon-the first few, the dancers and revelers nearest them when the announcement came-had already tried to exit, angrily shoving at the barricaded doors.

One of them turned to warn the surging crowd-but no one was listening to anybody else, more people angrily shoving at the door as others tried to edge around the crowd, escape the throngs of people-things getting compacted and tight, and fast.

From her perch on the manager's desk, Rachel gleefully watched the monitors-laughing when the sprinklers finally turned on, cries of dismay audible through the heavy door. This was hilarious!

Just what she had been looking fo-what was that?

Her smile vanished as she straightened up off the desk, squinted at the monitor that showed the front door-two bouncers having lifted up extinguishers and rushed off screen to the coat room-but for a minute she had seen something...she thought. Had Alex even caught it? Maybe, maybe not-it had been there and gone in a flash.

Some screaming started, people being shoved against the wall and the barred doors, tightly packed in with one another six or seven people deep, the edges still ragged and free moving-it was starting. Her smile almost returned-but then those doors flew open.

Ah. The city's savior.

/////////////////////

Jenna stopped short, confused to find the back doors held shut, the sounds of panicked people and pounding on the other side. THIS was a super duper fire code violation-and good god, how fast was the fire moving in there? These people were trapped!

Back into high speed, Jenna jerked the board out of the handles, almost a struggle given the pressure against it-and watched the doors open in slow motion. If people were that packed, they might fall, trip up everyone. She was impatient and yanked one door open, then the other-and began, as quickly as she could, to spirit people out and away from the doorway, thinning the crowd to avoid a trampling.

 

[Ephemeron9]

Wading through the crowd as instructed, Alex almost felt pity of the people around him--up close, they ceased to be components of a homogeneous congregation, and seemed more to be individual persons each with hopes and dreams. "Hopes and dreams of what, exactly?" He considered, "I almost felt bad for you."

"Hey, watch it, dork!" Someone barked rudely as he backed into the finely dressed shape-shifter, there were enough oddly clad people around such that Alex's exquisite outfit and mask didn't really stand out, and given the shifting, stroboscopic lighting, no one discerned the supreme quality of his suit, or cared to try. "Thank you." He said out loud to the man who had by this time burrowed into the thicket of human flesh. "Thank you for helping me harden my heart."

Past the stern-faced bouncers, Alex found him outside the building and irresistibly drew an deep breath from the cool city night. "Delicious exhaust gas!" He hurried towards the back of the building, not wishing to keep his companion waiting. The club was fairly far away from Jenna's campus, but given her seemingly random and highly extensive patrol routes at night, it's hard to estimate how quickly she would show up, if at all. "For all I know, you just fell asleep on your keyboard writing essays." Sliding a sturdy looking board between the backdoor's handles, Alex mused. "Academia would be the real killer in that case, it might just seem undeniable."

Sending a signal with the disposable flip phones that Rachel seem to have a habit of burning through more quickly than cotton pads, he made his way calmly to a distant vantage point outside where, when it happened, he could and did saw the yellow tongues of fire. "This dance just got red-hot!" He snickered, though his amateur efforts of comedy were interrupted by the loudly cursing pedestrians passing by his and stopped to exclaim at the fire they instinctively drew their phones to video tape.

Suddenly, something streaked past his eyes over the bright background of the distant flame. At this angle, even his meager reflex could give him a clue or two on the identity of the speeding object, which, was further assisted by his previous witness of a similar image at the scene of another fire. Speechless with surprise and excitement, Alex could feel his eyelids pushing against the upper and lower boundaries of the mask's eye-holes as he antecipated the confrontation between the two meta-humans. I should get a closer look- He thought, and began trotting towards the burning entrance where the gate keepers had already began to work on extinguishing the fire. "We gotta save them! Someone is still inside!" Shouted a voice behind him, conveniently providing a more benevolent interpretation of his motive. "I guess having a superheroine in the city does help shape the local culture, huh?" Alex thought, allowing the nigh-frantic citizen heroes to rush past him in the direction of the fire, he'd be there once the fire has subsided enough for him to feel safe for his own sake, and for the sake of his new costume.

Despite the backdoor being opened and the sprinklers set spewing rust-laden water down on the burning site, the crowd in the building still flooded towards the escape in panic, now that the lights had gone out and the air was noxious with the smell of smoke and metallic odor from the sprinkler water that had been sitting in the pipes for god-only-knows how long. Several people had been swept over by the wave of movement, and their intermittent screams only exacerbated the chaos.

The material of Alex's suit were hydrophobic, repelling most of the water sprayed over him, and to traverse the drizzling mayhem, he allowed himself to partially transform into a thick smoke, gliding over the upturned tables and scattered objects, floating through darkness towards the camera room like a very well-dressed wraith.

"I do believe we have a very special company." Getting to the point as he entered the monitor room, Alex hoped that Rachel's intelligence and what she might have seen on the monitors before the lights gone out would reveal to her what his somewhat cryptic words may not. "Is it time to pack up this show for the road?"

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Rachel’s arms were crossed beneath her chest, eyes intent on the monitor that, seconds before, had blinked out and left her brooding. The little brat had ruined a perfectly good bit of fun. She had managed to be in the right place at the right time-as Laura had infuriatingly always managed to do, before she had gotten herself murdered.

Hmph.

"Is it time to pack up this show for the road?"

Was it? Part of her wanted to meet the little upstart. Punish her for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. She didn’t want to go getting herself punished, however. And with her new protege in tow, putting the beat down on the newbie heroine seemed ill advised.

“Yes. I’d say it is.” The words sounded disappointed, irate, and a little sulking. She turned on her heel and exited the darkened office, a sigh. “Suppose that’s enough fun for one night.”

/////////////////////////////////////

This was just a mess. People were wet, angry, frightened, panicked and bleeding, filling the alleyway and heading to their cars while others lingered for either medical treatment or to rubber neck. The worst of this was over. She had darted to the source of the flames and found them all but extinguished. A quick dash to the basement and a smack to an old generator brought the emergency lights on. Now she was back at normal speed trying to keep a bit of order-not that there were many folks to keep it with, just stragglers and injured persons.

To that end, Jenna offered her hand to a woman sitting on the floor not much larger than she was, helping the red head up and steadying her when she swayed. “I think….my arm…” Jenna cast the bent appendage a glance and then winced. “It looks broken, ma’am. We’ll get you fixed up, don’t...worry?”

Her concealed eyes had distractedly drifted across the dance floor, catching the two well dressed individuals exiting some sort of office and looking calm as day.

 

[Ephemeron9]

With the crowd panic subsided and the people dispersed, Alex followed Rachel out of the office and towards the open air beyond the dripping, ruined dance-floor. Somehow or rather, a speaker box buzzed into life, playing a chip-tune disco track under the glaring white light of the backup lighting set. A painfully awkward scene for what few people remained inside--deflated looking club staff and the injured under paramedic care.

Peering from under his handsome mask, Alex saw the familiar blue and silver costume of the city's helpful little vigilante, taking care of a woman with an arm bent to a conformation that made his stomach wriggle. The young heroine was presently looking up in the direction of the exiting pair, and for a moment, Alex half-expected her to drop her charge and chase him down. Alas, his worried proved superfluous when the red-head woman heaved her chest, coughing a bright spray of blood over the floor and splattering several drops on Jenna's arm, followed by what seemed to be the onset of still worse bloody coughs.

With a final backward glance, Alex smiled his iconic smile, and was ready to fade into the night after Rachel's lead.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Something just wasn’t right about those two. The doors had been forced closed with a board too, she suddenly realized. At first glance she had thought the owners were just being dangerously neglectful in trying to keep people from ducking their tabs, but now-

The woman coughed suddenly, bright red splattering the floor and the sleeve of her costume. Jenna’s attention snapped back to the woman as she began to tremble, little bubbles in the blood at the corner of her mouth. “We need help over here!” Jenna’s voice had a measure of panic to it as she called out to one of the paramedics, the heroine struggling under the weight of the woman as her knees gave way. She was so consumed with worry that all thoughts of giving chase scattered-though she did glance back up just in time to see that iconic, familiar smile being flashed at her.

////////////////////////////////////

“How did she even know?” Rachel hissed, resisting the urge to floor it as they pulled away from the curb, the car’s owner rubbing the back of his head as he picked himself up from the sidewalk, staring in shock after his disappearing car.

“She was here before EMT’s, before anyone.”

Before any fun happened.

She seethed. “One of these days, I am going to learn if these speedster freaks are also psychic freaks or what.” Funny, she was one of those speedster freaks. Nevermind that now-she had just accidentally implied she’d dealt with more than one, before. Which was true, but she didn’t want to be on that particular soap box at this particular time.

They were two blocks away before Rush finally floored it. The little car was no speed machine-but it could certainly go, and go it did-in an out of traffic, down the center line, a careening right-barreling towards the emptier harbor district. At one point, she drove on the sidewalk.

How she wasn’t getting them both killed was a mystery-particularly as she didn’t seem to be paying rapt attention-her right hand ejecting an offensive rap CD and throwing it into the backseat.

 

[Ephemeron9]

On board the commandeered vehicle, Alex sat still and tried his best to not look shaken by the reckless driving, physically or mentally. Even with his eyes carefully averted from the woman holding the wheel--which he debated over himself if is a good idea to ignore his companion's obvious emotion--he was aware that Rachel had some sort of particular fixation on the speedy heroine.

Could the two be long-time rivals? Not likely. Alex would bet his new suit that someone as seemingly innocent as Jenna would never be able to pose a real threat against the veteran villainess by his side, though it just might be possible that her extreme speed happens to be something that specifically counters that of his companion. At least, that is the impression he gathered from Rachel's apparent avoidance of the girl.

Concluding that there is nothing that he could say or do to dispel the woman's brooding displeasure, he opted to stay quiet and motionless, examining the rapidly bypassing scenery to estimate the likely destination of this frenzied ride, for all he knew, Rachel had one apartment for every mood she could be feeling.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Her companion said nothing about her driving. A wise man-had he complained, she might’ve really made him wet himself. Still, taking her frustrations out on her newest partner in crime would probably limit what fun could be had down the road. No, she’d behave herself for now-just as she had back at the club.

Her right hand found a case of CD’s, flipping through them with occasional glances to the road, finally slowing up and taking a more rational fashion to driving-a little late, now that they were on mostly abandoned service roads near the harbor. “Have you seen her before? Up close?” She inquired, feigning an air of disinterest that was remarkably believable, had he not already glimpsed a bit of her fixation, earlier.

 

[Ephemeron9]

Is she had phrased the same question with more obvious anger, Alex might have really brushed off Rachel's annoyance as a combination of her habitual proclivity to anger and the girl's interruption of Rachel's scheme of sadistic amusement, but the air of casual disinterest has convince him once and for all that this woman does indeed some how take on particularly spite on the young heroine, for reasons far beyond her intrusion on Rachel's plan, even if he wouldn't try the latter act himself.

"Yes." Said Alex, in a tone that mirrored Rachel's apparent indifference to the little speedster, as if agreeing with the woman on the girl's insignificance. "I did see her a couple times recently, dashing into burning buildings and looking around for non-existent bombs in her street clothes, I don't know what else she does, maybe helping stranded cats get down trees."

He might have said more--of how the girl and himself had personal interaction, and how he had a good idea who she is outside her blue and silver costume, but he decided to withhold the information. Even if he couldn't exactly identify his own motive in covering up for the girl, it is at least something he might use later as leverage against either of the women, should it come to that.

"What do think of that little brat?" He asked, taking a risk and feeling a little embarrassed internally, as he could easily see himself being the subject of reference in that question, had it been asked by someone else.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

"Street clothes?" She pulled off and slowed to a stop, looking thoughtful. "Where was that? Was she wearing a mask?" The goggles. That was an odd addition to Laura's sleek costume-she remembered seeing them and finding them juvenile, decidedly unsexy.

Hm.

He asked her opinion and Rachel's lip curled, something of a snarl. "An upstart stealing a name and wearing a costume she has no earthly right to." Or did she? Could Laura had had a protege? A daughter? If she had, the kid couldn't of been more than fifteen, christ.

She didn't look quite that young however. And wouldn't the daughter or student of Laura have had a bit more support from the Superhero community? Surely there would have been a junior female speedster in the last few years...and there hadn't been. Not that it mattered-very little, if anything, was off limits to Mistress Rush.

She lost the deadly but beautiful expression and put on a more ladylike, demure one. Her green eyes shifted to him as she opened the car door, CDs in hand.

"She wasn't the first Velocity, you know." She said darkly as she exited the car. The blonde, tall drink of water looked calmer now. As if they were out for a stroll. Her tone was more conversational.

"But all in all-this pitiful second is harmless. Annoying, but harmless. She's content to save flea bitten cats stuck in trees for little old ladies-as you said. I'm sure if she ever choses to play with the big kids-she'll be someone's quick and easy kill." Rachel shrugged, detached and disinterested. Talking nature.

Of course, she didn't share her other thoughts-such as Velocity unwittingly serving as a useful pawn to powers beyond her worst imaginings. The thought brought her comfort-but also irked her. It gave the girl a measure of safety against her.

 

[Ephemeron9]

"Street clothe, yes," Alex said, paying attention to his phrasing and intonation, trying to be simultaneously informative and engaging, "she looked like she threw on her work-boots and goggles last minute, showing up around wrecked buses and buildings under bomb-threats." He could have mentioned how Jenna had looked like she could be working a day job before rushing to the scenes as a superhero, it wouldn't be a lie, technically speaking, but in case this Ms. Rachel could read minds, he decided to cut out that thought before anything could happen.

"An upstart stealing a name and wearing a costume she has no earthly right to." Alex tried his best to parse any extra information he could from her answer, but decided in the end that his intelligence, in comparison to hers, implies that he should simply take her words at face value.

"She wasn't the first Velocity, you know." Leaving the vehicle, Alex took in his surroundings--sparse buildings that may or may not be occupied, trees, roads free of traffic; she had chosen a good place for getting out of a car. "But all in all-this pitiful second is harmless. Annoying, but harmless. She's content to save flea bitten cats stuck in trees for little old ladies-as you said. I'm sure if she ever choses to play with the big kids-she'll be someone's quick and easy kill." Re-affirming that he could extrapolate no more meaning from the analysis of her statements other than that she didn't lie on obvious facts--namely, the existence of Velocity's predecessor--he decided to wrap it up for the night.

"Agreed." He said simply and without loosing the air of interested sophistication. "Perhaps we might even derive some amusement from such a childish character." With the implied farewell said, he waved and turned to walk away, assuming she'd be eager to get home as well, to brood on whatever troubled her mind.

- - -

Behind the dark blue glass of the premier's office, elevated 30 stories into the air, Ixion watched as the tired city lights go out one after another; bubbles vanishing in a cold bath. Even in unlit room, the steel plaque still reflected enough light to show the title engraved thereupon--Premier John S. Murdoch--, amidst the orderly stationary.

The clubhouse he just heard a report of fire from was not visible from this vantage point. Velocity, the city heroine, had been on the scene soon enough; good. The premier returned to his chair and closed his eyes. A distance away, the chief of investigation logged on for access of the recent cases--still no information on the person responsible for the bomb-hoax and associated with the bus-sabotage, even if the other man associated with the attack had been identified. That attack is currently left to his devices, because Ixion always remembered to erase any information the chief of investigation shouldn't have known yet.

Glancing over the files, the chief saw the entry for an arsonist--a corrupt landlord who had evidently been trying to swindle insurance money by setting his own apartment on fire. Logging off and restoring the cabinet into its previous state, the chief of investigation left the office, and as he walked down the hallway, the intense, concentrated look faded from his eyes, to be replaced by a look of sleepy exhaustion as he walked for his car, home-bound.

Meanwhile, a prisoner turned in his cell, uneasily. Good. Ixion thought. The man in the cell was deathly ill, just as planned, after destroying all evidence of the make-shift laboratory in the apartment he previous owned.

John Murdoch, the premier, had suddenly snapped his eyes open. He breathed heavily, foaming a little from his mouth, the craving had come. With a trembling hand, he jiggled a small key into a compartment in his desk, and took out a pre-loaded syringe which he promptly plunged into his arm. Relief rippled through his face, like a receding tide, revealing the disappointed expression previously submerged by the addict's desperation.

Picking up the phone, the premier spoke in a calm, composed and not entirely unfriendly voice. "Hi, yes- I was wondering if the package was making its way to the city museum okay- Good, thank you very much." With any luck, Ixion would be able to put the supplier of Premier Murdoch's syringes behind bars as well, consequence-free.

The premier stood up and walked to one corner of the room. He closed his eyes lightly, and stood still for several moments. Then, he disappeared from where he stood to instantly appear at the opposite corner of the room. Good. Ixion had to make sure, when he transfers powers between hosts, there are sometimes mishaps. The premier opened his eyes, and vanished from his office.

John Murdoch torn himself free from his suit, walking over the empty fabric like a metamorphic insect abandoning its shed. He scratch delightfully searing streaks over his pale skin as he examined himself before the mirror, a silly smile stuck on his face. He pleasured himself, allowing his fluids to drip down his abdomen and towards his face. He tried to lick it; no avail. Having calmed from his heavy breathing, John took out the object inserted in his body, and limped into the shower. Minutes later, he emerged pristine and immaculate, white blonde hair combed in shape, pale, angular body glistening like chiseled ice.

Dressing up in a simple though exorbitantly priced white shirt, he settled down on the vast canopied bed amidst the bedroom, vaster still and furnished with almost excessive extravagance. Fingering through his phone, John he skimmed the profiles of the numerous alluring young women, grinning, and sent them all a text message. Comparatively, these were of low prices, but money wasn't John's concern; he was only attracted by the prospect of making an astonishing impression, which the prices promised.

- - -

As dawn broke, Ixion awoke among the wasted bodies and quietly extricated himself. He went to dress, left the bedroom door open and cleared a path from there to the main entrance, or for the purpose it shall soon serve, the main exit. "Mr. Murdoch?" The speaker from the other end asked, "yes, about the relic, everything is just fine, sir. You can expect it to arrive by the city pier this evening."

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Finally, she had a mission. Rachel had started to wonder what he’d called her out here for. Maybe even insulted he hadn’t yet provided any fun activities outside the bedroom. She’d been left to her own devices and entertainments-good thing she was so adept at avoiding boredom.

Pressing her gloved right hand to the brick wall of the museum, Rachel tossed Alex a grin. “Wait here.” And then her hand started to look fuzzy-passing through the wall as if weren’t even there. The rest of the leggy blonde followed suit. She was wearing her costume, but the usual risque view was currently obscured by a dark purple leather jacket zipped up only to the middle of her chest, leaving plenty to look at, just not as much. Why the extra bit of stylishness, who could say? She had also switched out her cowl for a masquerade mask as fancy as Alex’s.

All of which disappeared through the wall with her.

After several minutes inside-disabling security measures-the back glass door shattered. She poked her head out of the now floor length gap, a wave. “Door was rigged to set off an alarm when opened.” She explained with a shrug, her boots crunching glass underneath the wedge heels as she sauntered back into the museum. Their target was in the new exhibition towards the front of the museum, set for tomorrow’s unveiling. It would be a simple matter to reach inside the glass casing and take the treasure, Rachel knew. Too easy. She would have prefered a vault. More impressive when it disappeared.

She didn’t spare so much as a glance at the historical artifacts and treasures as she passed them, no attention paid to the beautiful paintings and sculptures in the art section. No, she pressed on single mindedly for the new exhibit.

Once she had gone through the fancy archway with the large banner proclaiming the historical treasures within she did finally pause, looking for the prize. It wouldn’t be the center of attention-just an item among many in a side case somewhere, probably displayed with other baubles.

Ah-she thought she saw it, sitting on a cushion in a large glass case, surrounded by once luxurious items. Perfect. She started towards it-and then stopped when her triumphant thoughts were interrupted.

“Grand theft on a Friday? I think you guys have caused enough trouble already.” The young woman’s voice wasn’t disapproving exactly. Almost conversationally cheerful, yet it still left little doubt that she was here to stop them. If the heroine had had a theme song, it would be playing about now. “Whaddya say we all go home, watch Netflix instead?” It was hard to pinpoint her exact location-the open room and high ceilings gave it a slight echo effect.

Stealth wasn’t Velocity’s style in any known instance-the bright heroine usually made an entrance, the shimmering blue blur a symbol of law and justice-but she was using it now. A bit of caution in the face of a metahuman threat? Perhaps.

Rachel’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but she smiled. “Cute. Maybe we’ll cuddle.” She kept her tone teasing and her expression almost dreamily genial, a smile curving her lips. The smile didn’t reach her eyes however-no, they were roaming the displays in an almost predatory manner-and keeping tabs on her nonspeedster partner.

“Lady, you wish.” Spunky brat.

“I’m wounded, truly.” Rachel pouted. She still wasn’t sure where the girl was, but she probably wouldn’t have to wait long for her to make an appearance. Surely she couldn’t be blamed for such an encounter?

 

[Ephemeron9]

It was cloudlessly sunny day, a welcome change of scenery in contrast to the weather of the past week. Under the bright condition, Alex thought his outfit had taken on a different quality--its exquisitely woven threads showed a granular appearance, and each thread seeming to gleam independently in sunlight, taking on an almost inherently colorful texture as they did, which meshed well with hair of mixed blonde and brunette as well as his exposed skin--mostly pale with faint spots of pink where his blood gathered shallowly to expel excessive heat. The suit is one of the few objects he ever dedicated the time to take good care of, and gladly so.

He reflected, sitting by the sea under the great bridge and enjoying what waning sunlight there remained to be cast upon his makeshift backyard--a simple indenture just outside the portion of his hideout with the cracked wall. Soon enough, the night will fall, and he should be soon called upon for still more adventure by the woman whose house he thought is best not to linger in, at least for the time being.

“Door was rigged to set off an alarm when opened.” Rachel appeared, walking over the shattered glass that no one should have heard, if his information was correct on the museum recently receiving an addition and having to close down for a while just to set up a specialized area. Prominently featured among the new items were a large sarcophagus, recently unearthed from what was rumored to be a sunken pyramid over a patch of the Egyptian desert where no civilization had been previous suspected to exist. However, when asked of her opinion on the ghastly antique, Rachel had merely snorted a seemingly candid word of dismissal. Reasonable, Alex supposed, that a woman with all the money she'd ever want wouldn't much care for an old box with a dead guy inside it, when there might be more pleasing things to lay her hands on, such as that golden locket--the only item in the collection not rotten to age, but dismissed by historians for appear as an insignificant ornament of a mere servant.

That is indeed the impression he felt when he found the locket lying unceremoniously on a wad of dark green clothe in its case; something about its manner of placement even suggested the carelessness in the museum staff's handling of it, but it certainly looked like the only item in the area suitable for a lady's pocket.

Suddenly, a voice spoke--“Grand theft on a Friday? I think you guys have caused enough trouble already.”--and Alex all but grinned agape at the recognition of it. Nevertheless, while he reflected on the perfection of the scenario--to see the interesting little heroine again, facing off his Ms. Rachel no less, not to mention the chance to learn what the latter really had been keeping in her sleeve in terms of superpower--Alex decided to be on his guard, back turned to the wall, eyes scanning; he did so partly for the appearance of alliance shown to his companion in the act, partly for his own fear of being put in a more secure prison--a scenario not entirely outside the realm of possibility.

 

[Ambrosia_64]

Alex. She had told the police she had seen him, that he had somehow escaped and was part of this troublesome duo-but no one was listening. Diane seemed to think she was imagining things, guilty feeling about the perp's untimely death-but she wasn't crazy! She knew what the heck she was looking at, and it wasn't a ghost, damn it. She didn't know how he had escaped, if it was an inside job or...what, but she knew it was him, dammit. And he had wanted her to know, too-showing up on campus, giving himself away at the nightclub-just, jeez. And now she was losing some hard won respect from the police, insisting he was alive and well and out there.

Jenna kept her back tight to the raised marble dais in the center of the room. It was about three feet off the ground, and with the sarcophagus on top of that-her seated form was easily concealed. She was nervous, hands a little clammy within her silver gloves and her heart a little fast. Alex was clearly more than what met the eye-obviously. He hadn't been particularly aggressive before, but he hadn't had a friend either. And as for his friend-Jenna had no idea what she could do, but it involved breaking into vaults and the like through some sort of supernatural means. They had waltzed into here like they owned it, too. Jenna had already known they were brassy-all these pranks they had been pulling.

Behind her goggles, her eyes narrowed. Dangerous pranks, like the nightclub, or the bus. Mean spirited ones, those creepy mannequins. And God only knew what all they had made off with. This was a safe city. The people deserved better than having these two yahoos on the loose making the cops look like fools. Making her look like a fool.

“Come on out to play, why don't you?" Jenna felt another pang of anxiety as the woman's velvet voice called out, sounding almost...what? Sultry? Seductive? "Unless you're waiting for another nightclub fire to get you going."

The jab strengthened Jenna's resolve. Yeah, she had better get to hero-ing. It was a miracle they hadn't killed anyone at that scene. No repeats. Whatever powers they had, it wouldn't matter-she was fast. They didn't have a chance in hell to get away this time.

/////////////////////////////////////

Rachel stood with her hip cocked, one of her gloved hands resting on it. "Or maybe this place-priceless historical artifacts probably make for good kindle, hm?" Her legs were itching to run-it was all she could do to resist searching for the brat. Rush wanted to let her come to her. She wanted her to be surprised.

Velocity didn't make her wait very long. Her old rival never had, either.

The blue shimmering blur was suddenly up and over the dais, something white in the mix-and Rachel's eyes snapped to the spot instantly before-!

One minute a tall, shapely blonde was standing there, looking as if she had stepped off a magazine cover-and the next, nothing more than a floating leather jacket and a dark purple streak colliding into the blue one. Both woman were suddenly and violently visible in standstill-Rush had Velocity by the throat and pinned to a supporting column, the girl held several inches off the floor.

The leather jacket hit the floor behind the villain while a white sheet billowed and fell to the floor. Probably what Velocity had intended to wrap one or both of them up in. She tended to use things from her environment, as Alex had learned first hand.

"Rush." The girl gasped, her hands on the arm that held her, eyes no doubt wide behind her goggles. Her speed, her risque, daring costume, the blonde hair-Rachel saw the heroine put it together, and the brat's horrified realization brought her no small amount of pleasure-particularly as she relished the surprise and the slight paling of her opponent's face, visible even with that russet brown skintone.

"Mistress Rush." Rachel corrected, unable to repress a dazzling, malicious grin-before she drove her fist into the girl's abdomen, releasing her and flitting backwards ten or twelve feet. The brat landed a little off but didn't fall, coughing-a look of panic as Rush drew the whip off her right thigh.

"Alex, be a dear and procure that locket, will you? I'll keep our plaything busy." That seemed to remind the sad little second of what she had come to stop-and Rachel gave an amused, pretty little laugh as the brat wiped her lips with the back of a silver glove and lowered into a semi stance, a flicker of brave, unsure resolve on what she could see of her face-and determination.

"No self preservation instincts, heroes." Rush mused.