Incognito (IC, OPEN)

[Joshulia]

Downtown
Danny McConnal

Oh fuck it.

McConnal placed his hand on the gun's barrel, half expecting cool metal to transport the group to some backwoods camp, or underground lair. Instead, the stayed where the were, a big group of people just standing there touching a gun that was on a newspaper. After a moment or two, he glanced around and halfheartedly asked, "So.......any of you come here often?"

[Damak Var]

Downtown
Present Time: 10:01 PM
Charlotte Simms


There was no other explanation than this guy wanted each one of them to incriminate themselves. What had that pistol been involved in? Most likely a murder. Charlotte had managed to keep her fingerprints out of any databases. She had been really careful and there was no record that she knew of. Not that it mattered. There were ways other than fingerprints that metas employed to link somebody to an object they came into contact with. This Jolevier had his hands on the thing himself. If she was going down then so would he.

Hesitantly, Charlotte touched the pistol that Jolevier held out.

[SaintB]

Behind the Charlatan Club
Mask
Mask was unconcerned with touching the gun, he liked the theatrics of the whole charade really and since he was a man with no identity it didn't matter to him what evidence he left behind if a crime should be committed. He reached out and touched the weapon nonchalantly and looked around to the others. In some of them he could sense the trepidation about the act in question and if he cared too he could likely hear their doubts, well all but Jolevier, the man was unreadable. Intriguing.

[Versoun]

Venice Beach
Time: 9:32 pm
Julián Zalñrio

Julián was fast asleep until his phone started going off playing the song "They're Just Jealous" by Serio. This quickly woke up a rejuvenated Julián as he checked the text message. Although it was from an unknown number it talked greatly about getting what he wanted in exchange for help. Could he really and finally be able to support his loved ones without the fear of death? The idea rolled around in his head for awhile. He weighed the options as best he could. If it was real this could be an answer to his prayers, if not and it was a trap he had confidence he could protect himself so he won't for it getting off the ground and making his way downtown.

Downtown
Time: 10:02 PM
Julián Zalñrio

Julián had made his way earlier to the meeting spot to which he heard the introduction and all the things he was interested in. He was relieved to know that this at least for the most part was not a trick. But Julián still held minor reservations about touching the pistol. Nothing truly rational just a imbedded distrust from years of living in what could be considered a war zone at times and he hesitated at first. But thinking about his family and what this could mean for them as well as for himself he reached out and touched the pistol in the hop that this would be an improvement on his situation.

[Neo Arcad]

Downtown
Present Time: 10:01 PM
Viatrix Jones


To say she'd been involved in scarier situations would be an understatement. Viatrix touched the gun unflinchingly, the cold metal of the textured grip making inroads into the warmth of her digits. She'd been shot to death earlier that morning. This was easy. And yet, all the same, she had to wonder: (What have I stumbled upon this time?). The question burned itself into her mind as the others followed suit. Fingerprints, fingerprints. She'd been wise enough to catch the cut of the jib immediately, and pinched the part of the gun least likely to give a solid, identifiable print when dusted. Putting herself in harm's way was the easy part. Getting back out, that often took some doing- and there was little sense in making that harder.

[The Five Galaxies]

Los Angeles
Naosuke Takisawa

Naosuke looked up as a soft chime sounded from his laptop indicating a new email in his inbox. He was sprawled across a plain sofa which matched the rest of his cheap furniture; it wasn't comfy but it was also the only seat in his threadbare apartment. He dragged the laptop closer and clicked once to bring up the message; his eyes narrowing as he spotted the address of the sender. The Patricians again, huh...

It had only been a few days previously that his services had been hired out by the Patricians to eliminate a competitor in their industry. He'd done the job quickly and professionally and while he had received his due payment there had been no other word from the mysterious group until right now. Another contracted killing? He wondered as he read through the message. The job looked fairly standard, just another hit on a competitor but Naosuke's suspicions were riled. As a rule he had to be suspicious in his line of work.

"Perhaps they want to tie up a loose end?" He asked aloud. He wasn't talking to anyone in particular; he hadn't shared this apartment with anyone else in a long time now. He shook his head and dismissed the idea, "if it is a trap, then the only one who'll suffer at the end will be themselves."

[Damak Var]

Downtown
Present Time: 10:10 PM
Jolevier Tash


After everybody touched their fingers to the pistol, Jolevier folded the newspaper over it again. These were exactly the people he needed. Although they would probably be outraged with what he was to do next. Regardless, it was a necessity to establish the gravity of their cause. Plus, he found tasks to be far more motivating when one had a personal stake in the final product.

“Come along. There’s somebody I would like you to all meet.” He started walking towards the alley while they followed.
This was a very eclectic group he thought. In his experience, diversity was best if you could find a way for all the elements to work cohesively. Here there were elementals, immortals, masters of disguise, of combat and technology. So much talent not being put to good use. They all seemed hesitant as was expected. But Jolevier figured probably would have done the same in their position.

“You all may be wondering what this is all about. Frankly, it’s about power. You will work with me to destabilize the natural order of the meta underground in Los Angeles so that it can be rebuilt into something more ideal. There’s also the matter of dealing with these abductions.” He explained vaguely to them as they rounded the corner.They were now in a dimly lit alleyway at the back of the club. There was nothing but a few dumpsters and some other run down looking buildings behind them. Jolevier turned around and they stopped walking.

“I have the resources I need just not the manpower. That’s where all of you come in. I cannot say exactly yet what we are working towards but know it is for the good of metas and humans alike. You see, I shot Corrick Rezan this morning. The first step in a series of many. You may not come to believe in the goal I am working towards. But you will see the value in this partnership. I promise I will make it worth your while…” Jolevier explained but was cut off when the backdoor opened. A younger fellow than him stepped out wearing khakis and a red dress shirt without a tie. He was Caucasian with combed brown hair and a clean shaven face. A little overweight as well.

“Rick? These the recruits you got?” The new man directed the question at Jolevier.

“You bet! What took ya so fuckin long? We’ve been waiting out here for while now.” Jolevier responded, changing his manner into something far more uncouth.

“Guys, this is Dean.” He introduced the group. “Why don’t ya tell em what they’ll be doing here Dean.”

“Aww, it’s simple really. We just need muscle to protect our establishment. Some humans get taken out once in a while. We knock em out with a sedative in their drink and carry them out the back here. Can’t tell you what really happens to them but you’d be helping with that too.” Dean explained to them.

Jolevier turned to the group and raised a hand as to say ”there you have it folks”.

“What Dean here does not want you to know is he is an ambitious lieutenant in the Cathar. And that this club is owned and operated by them. They use it to abduct people for their vile blood rituals. But they’ve been taking more people than they usually do.” Jolevier told the group, switching back to his normal voice and manner.

Dean gave Jolevier a surprised look. “How the hell do you know that?! What fucking game are you playin…” Before he could finish his sentence, Jolevier drew the pistol from the folded newspaper. Two muffled shots rang out as there was a suppressor on the gun. Dean took two bullets to the chest before falling backwards, dead.

Jolevier turned around to the group quickly, leveling the pistol at them for a moment before bringing it down.

“Now we’ve all been implicated in the killing of Cathar lieutenant. Your prints may not be in the records. In fact they aren’t. I took the liberty of wiping them from all databases if they happen to be out there. But you’ll see in the next few days why that doesn’t matter. They can still ID us all. And if they do, we’re all dead. You don't have to work with me, but keep that in mind if you’re considering blowing the whistle on my plans.”

He looked up at the camera sitting above on the club. It was too dark and the models were too old to get a facial recognition. Although it sure did let the people inside know what was going on. The back double doors to the club burst open and a platoon of men poured out. Some with firearms while others would clearly be using their powers as weapons. They looked ready to strike but probably wanted to take them in for questioning. Jolevier had dropped the pistol and had his hands raised. It was quite apparent they would not win a fight as there were too many and would have to make an escape. Jolevier kicked the pistol over to them.

Charlotte Simms

Charlotte was the first to act. She threw up a transparent cyan energy barrier between them and the Cathar goons. They responded by opening fire but the bullets hit against the barrier harmlessly. Without a second thought she turned and ran. These people were not her friends and so she felt no compulsion other than to save her own skin at this moment. That barrier would not hold long and she could already feel the strain of keeping it up. Her next thought was outrage at Jolevier’s recklessness and what he had gotten them into as she saw the man already ahead turning a corner.

[Siliarba]

Rich Neighborhood
Cheyenne

As Cheyenne was reading she got a strange feeling, a feeling that told her to do something now that she had decided a name for herself. She didn't know why, but she felt like it had to be done. She placed back the book she was reading and started running through the house looking for small trinkets, baubles, feathers, ..., and things she could use as face paint. Once she collected it all she dragged some chairs outside and piled them up a bit. Then she used some of the items she found in the house to put trinkets in her hair and draw several lines on her head.

Having found something else inside that could be used to light a fire she set the chairs a blaze and piled on other burnable things on them. When the fire seemed to be going well she took off her jacket and threw it in the fire, quickly followed by the rest of her clothes until she was wearing none. As they were made from fire to begin with her clothes didn't really burn, they simply returned to their original state.

Now stripped down Cheyenne stepped in to the fire and started chanting in the same Native American dialect she spoke as she first woke up, chanting the same lines over and over, she still didn't know why but it seemed like it had to be done. Wile she didn't realize it she was performing a fire ritual to symbolize the loss off her former life and the birth of her new one. The clothes she was wearing were still from her previous life so they all returned to the fire. As she was chanting new clothing seemingly started growing on her, a red shirt with black dots and flames on the front surrounding a broken egg and on the back a black phoenix. A new pair of dark red pants to match her clothing and her hair turned from a fiery red to a more blackish red and went from a longer style to a short one. As her clothing and hair color and style symbolize her personality they could still greatly change over the next couple of days. But for now this was who she had become.

[The Justice League of America]

Pomona
9:13 P.M.
Kera

Kera was on her way home when she passed a park and saw a little girl playing with her mother. It reminded her of the times she and her mother used to play together. But those times along with Kera's mother, are but a memory. She continued to walk home until she noticed a man in a black hoodie approach the woman. Kera watched as the man pulled out a gun and pointed it at the mother. That's when Kera intervened. "You might want to put that gun down." She watched as he then pointed the gun at her. "What are you going to do about it lady?" He asked. She tells the mother and her daughter to run as she responds "You should never point a gun at me."

"Why don't you run along before I put you in the hospital?" She began to get warm. "You're the only one that is going to need a hospital, and for your sake I hope there's one nearby." She startles him by smacking the gun out of his hand and he jumps back. "Who do you think you are lady?"
She cracks her knuckles "Why don't you come and find out?"

He throws a punch but misses as she dodges and throws him into a tree. "I'm giving you one chance to get up and run unless you want to keep going." He quickly gets up and runs as the mother and her daughter who were hiding behind the tree come out and thank her. "Thank you for your help." "Any time, I'm not going to let anyone terrorize other people." The little girl hold her mom's hand and looks up at Kera. "I like your hair miss." "Why thank you, I like it too." She pats the little girl's head as she and her mom get in their car and leave while Kera continues to walk back home. Under her breath she whispers "What a week, I just stopped a mom and her daughter from getting attacked and getting followed by a mysterious woman in one week. I need to get some rest." She catches a bus and makes her way back home.

[Esternial]

Downtown
Selyse

The instinct to flee initially didn't register. She stared into the muzzles of several thugs that had no intention of letting them leave alive, but rather than try to dodge is she merely stood still and waited. When the shots fired, it seemed to any nearby her that her entire body sudden flickered, a bit like a television screen, though the bullets never reached her, as a barrier prevented the first volley of shots to hit her.

Without so much as batting an eye at the goons, she turned around. About to run off, she said something to everyone in general.

"You might want to destroy that gun before you go, if any of you are capable of that."

With those inspiring words she abandoned the scene, but not before buying some time. The first electricity box became the victim of her scheme, overloading seconds after she tapped her hand on it and causing a local power outage on the block the Charlatan club was in. A lack of lighting would hopefully help her newfound companions escape, or at the very least keep the thugs busy longer so she had enough time for a swift retreat. She had ensured to make herself incognito on the camera feed throughout her encounter with Jolevier, so Selyse left with relative peace of mind. With any luck she wouldn't run into any degenerates on her way to find a place to sleep. As she walked down the street in a hurried pace, she already prepared herself to spend the night under the clear sky, without a place to truly rest her head in comfort.

[Neo Arcad]

Present Day
Present Time
HAHAHAHAHAHA-


The first bullet from the Cathars cracked past Viatrix's head. She was into the fight before anything could even register in her mind, reacting to the bullets. She cast off her leather jacket as she ran towards the still-assembling Cathar crew. The blood mages were evidently less than competent with their firearms; despite the fact that there was little in the way of cover, they were hardly able to hit her. Only a couple of rounds connected. Another mistake that was about to prove fatal for them was their use of 9x19mm ball ammo. She recognized the way they felt when they hit her. There were few people who'd survived enough gunshots to tell you, but ball and wadcutter had a very different feel when they hit you. And a Wonder Nine, even if you did pack 15 or 20 rounds to a magazine, wasn't going to physically stop anyone without hollow point unless you hit them in the heart or the head- the kinetic energy simply wasn't great enough.

It was highly unlikely that the first one had realized as much when Vi's fist collided with the side of his head. He'd rushed out the door ahead of the others, fumbling for his gun. (Must not have had any offensive powers.) thought Viatrix, in the brief moment of clarity that followed the first bullet that hit her. Her other hand struck his gun arm, and the weapon went to the ground. She brought her knee into his stomach with violence until he stopped fighting her, then used him as a human shield while she scooped up the weapon. It was a Glock 17- one of the old first-gen models, but still a Glock. A bullet to the head ensured that its previous owner wouldn't be missing it. Still using the corpse to catch incoming rounds, Viatrix hit the ground as a bullet struck her in the shin. It was a solid hit, and the bullet had likely shattered her tibia. Instead, she took a knee and opened fire on the Cathars. There were still around ten of them, although several wisely took some kind of cover while she fired. Her first few rounds hit one of the gunmen, center of mass. They punched through his lower abdomen, and he toppled backwards. Another bullet struck Viatrix in her side, leaving a steady trickle of blood. A few inches over and it'd have been her kidney. Now the fire was focused on her, and bullets struck the corpse shield with increasing intensity. Some fragments made it through and hit her, but she managed to suppress the enemy and attract some fire, at the least. That would buy time for the others to get away.

"Go! Fucking go!" she yelled over her shoulder. One of the Cathars finally managed to hit her in the head, and the contents of her skull exploded all over the pavement. Hopefully that would indicate that no one should try to win or do anything but run away, although that wasn't really made apparent before. Again, it should have become clear that there's only "running" as far as options go.

[Joshulia]

Downtown Alleyway or Somthing
Danny McConnal

A bullet's crack drew his attention away from his half-assed attempt to converse with the new peoples that he now seemed to be on the same side of. Instead he watched as their new "benefactor" gave up his weapon, and two women of the group began to tear through the professional killers like paper. To top it all off, one of them, he didn't know her name, shit McConnal didn't know anyone's fucking name, got her brains splattered all across the pavement by some security asshole.

He was shook from his daze by a crack of bullets and smell of gunpowder that now filled the tight alleyway. Said bullets never struck flesh, they never do, not even back when he was...what? 7? 8? Danny'd forgotten by now, as everybody does eventually, but he knew his abilities kicked in pretty young. And it's great that they did, cause, growing up in Brooklyn, they'd gotten him out of more than one sticky situation. Anyway, the billets never struck flesh because he wasn't where they'd aimed a moment ago, McConnal now resided behind he would-be murderer's back, a large fellow with an apparent leather fetish.

He could see everyone who touched the hi begin to run away, or, with a bit less vigor, get their ass killed. Fuck this. And before the 'this' of the 'fuck this' passed through his brain, the meta was already caught up with the pack of people running from the scene, slowing to their general speed, and trying to blend in, though, to a trained eye, they could see a blured form appeared among their ranks.

[Versoun]

Alley way
Time: 10:11
Julián Zalñrio

Julián looked plain faced at the killing of the man who was apparently unplaced in blood sacrifice or something of that nature. Killing wasn't anything new to Julián not did it bother him to see a man killed. But his mind was blank as the events unfolded. As the men poured out of the club Julián pulled out his Glock once again but was stopped short of shooting as a heavy lead a copper bullet ripped through his hand forcing the Glock pistol out of his hand and across the alley smacking down a good ten feet from him.

"Mother fucker!" He exclaimed as he quickly turned around to run. His legs jolted forward as Julián took long strides. His hand while covered in blood had healed itself for the most part thanks to his amplified healing abilities. But as he ran a few more bullets flew past him. Julián made a sharp turn out of the alley and down the Main Street weaving between alleys and streets something he learned to do while avoiding the cops. After a while his running slowed to a jog.

As he walked down the road sure that he had evaded the men he started to think about what he would do now and where he could stay. As he was walking he noticed a younger silver haired girl walking the street. He noticed her from the alley as one of the people who touched the gun. She was young and LA was not the place for someone her age even if she was a meta. Julián sped up a bit to get closer and then called out to her.

"Hey you! Girl with the grey hair! Need a place to stay tonight?" He asked her as he stood a good thirty to fourth feet away.

[SaintB]

Behind the Charlatan Club
Mask

Thugs with guns were not his thing. Murder, fine, cloak and dagger stuff, double fine, but thugs with guns were not part of Mask's repertoire. He wasn't too bad at running and there was nobody on earth that could hide like he did. While some of the more combative people leaped into action Mask leaped into the opposite direction and high-tailed it around the corner. He didn't go far however before ducking behind a dumpster and concentrating hard.
Mask pictured himself a new face and forced his muscles to shift and change their positions, his bones snapped and rearranged, reforming their bonds, the cartilage in his nose shifted and changed, and his skin wrinkled as it took a different shape to become the visage of an older man in his 50's. The process only took seconds and was always painful but after so many decades he was inured to it all and after pulling off the wig he wore and dropping it in the dumpster a new person walked out from behind the dumpster and joined the crowd of people running from the scene.

[Esternial]

As he walked down the road sure that he had evaded the men he started to think about what he would do now and where he could stay. As he was walking he noticed a younger silver haired girl walking the street. He noticed her from the alley as one of the people who touched the gun. She was young and LA was not the place for someone her age even if she was a meta. Julián sped up a bit to get closer and then called out to her.

"Hey you! Girl with the grey hair! Need a place to stay tonight?" He asked her as he stood a good thirty to fourth feet away.

Downtown
Selyse

After years of living by herself, Selyse was estranged from any and all social conventions, but when she heard one of her shady conspirators call out to her from a short distance in the middle of the street, she couldn't help but feel that this was considered wrong in so many ways.

Was he for real?

Indubitably a thought a nearby pedestrian had as he turned his head. Julián had "thug" written all over him, and someone like him asking a young girl like Selyse a question like that was just wrong. Selyse wasn't sure, herself.

"Does that seem like a good idea to you?" Selyse replied as she turned to Julián, having noticed the other pedestrian's surprised reaction.

To make clear it was a rhetorical question, Selyse turned her back to him and continued walking. There wasn't a person alive who she trusted enough to fall asleep in their vicinity. If there really were no other options, she would back go to the bar. With any luck she'd still find one of the hotels on her list that still had some rooms available.

[Damak Var]

Downtown
Present Time: 10:25 PM
Jolevier Tash


After turning a few corners, Jolevier found himself once again on a main street. It did not take long to hail a taxi cab. Most of them would be very angry for doing what he did. Although he knew in his mind each was cable of escaping such a situation. They would have to do similar things in the coming weeks. Then there was the matter of the gun. It was simple, Jolevier could not trust them to go sing to the Patricians, Cathar or other meta organizations in LA. For now it would serve as a threat of impending doom. But that was all Jolevier wanted it to be, a threat. If all went as planned then there would be no need to use it. Unfortunately that could all be unraveled. By tomorrow the Cathar and most likely the Patricians would be booking a psychometry meta. They had the ability to touch inanimate objects and learn the significant histories of it. Jolevier, along with the rest of the group had the signatures of their essences on the murder weapon. A psychometric would be able to identify them all. That would have to be dealt with appropriately when the time comes.

He directed the cab back to where the young phoenix girl was staying. It was a long drive which gave him time to sit back and think. This included executing a great many scenarios in his head for what would happen in the coming days. He played with the variables, figuring out the optimal ways to go about his plans and how they could go wrong. Then he spent the time running through the numbers for his day job. It was equivalent to the work usually required by teams of highly trained analysts and days of diligence. There was a reason he was wealthy. Jolevier slipped into a trance for the rest of the car ride to use the full extent of his brain power.

When he arrived, the house seemed empty which was not a surprise. It was fairly large for just one person. There were a few short palm trees out front and a well lighted walkway towards the front door. Jolevier entered and looked around. Much of the house trinkets had been upended and it seemed like somebody had ransacked the place. That made him wary. Better to be safe than sorry so Jolevier quickly stepped into the bathroom, leaving the lights on. Inside the toilet tank was a stashed black Remmington 1911 with two full magazines and a suppressor in a Ziploc baggie. Jolevier pulled it out and quickly threaded on the suppressor before inserting a magazine and pulling back on the slide to load it. The other magazine went into his pocket. He exited the bathroom with the firearm leveled in two hands and looked around. Quickly turning a corner, he scanned the dark living room. Much of the wooden furniture was missing which seemed strange to him. What the hell happened?

“Girl!” Jolevier called out. “Are you here?”

[Siliarba]

Rich Neighborhood
Cheyenne

The fire had started dying and Cheyenne was sitting in a pile of smoldering ashes, remnants of wooden furniture and small flames still needing to die out, she took her time to finish her chant and then used some of the ashes to make the face paint more obvious and fitting off her new red blackish look. Black circles around her eyes and a stripe straight down under each eye down to her neck and one more black stripe from the center of her lips down to her chin.

Not much later she heard a voice coming from inside the house, it sounded like Jolevier and seeing this was his place it was doubtful anyone else would be calling her anyway. "I'm outside amongst the ashes and burned stuff, I finally stopped being cold for a little wile. Am cold again though now, also it's Cheyenne now.". Cheyenne stood up dusted her new clothing a bit removing the ashes and looked at the door Jolevier would have to use to reach her expectantly.

[Damak Var]

Upper Class Neighborhood
Present Time: 11:00PM
Jolevier Tash


He heard the familiar voice and exited the back door, scanning the area with the pistol still leveled. It was apparent nobody was around so he set the pistol down on glass table and allowed himself to relax. There was a huge charred mark on the ground near the swimming pool where something was obviously burning. Cheyenne, as she called herself looked quite savage with whatever was on her face. Jolevier inspected her first then the area around, without the slightest idea what had happened. Other than that Cheyenne's appearance had changed.

"Cheyenne is it? That works. What did you do here Cheyenne? Are you alright?" He asked calmly. Not angry about the destruction of his property and the mess that had to be cleaned up. "If you're having trouble staying warm, next time, use the hot tub." Jolevier pointed towards it.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Location Los Angeles
6:04 AM
Character Name Lyaksandra Jansone

"…What my esteemed colleague from the House doesn't understand is the vital importance of these systems to the United States military, which is understandable and excusable in her case. Someone who isn’t a veteran or even from this country can’t be asked to understand the operational needs of the United States military. But in case you didn't notice, there is a war on, and I for one don't want to shortchange our boys in uniform which, make no mistake, is what these proposed cuts would do."

Lyaksandra tried to ignore the almost greasy feeling the words had on her ear even filtered as they were through the phone-line. If she didn't ignore it, it would just bother her even more until she could find the time to take a shower. Much as she wanted to immediately though, the radio didn't wait and she was not going to be chased off with her tails between her legs by this oily and disgusting Midwestern ooze of a man who called himself a Senator. He was so…artificial! Lying through his teeth without as much as a hiccup in his voice to betray an ounce of guilt over it.

She would rectify that.

“Senator, as I’m sure the Senate subcommittee hearings on military appropriations are virtually identical to those given to us lowly Representatives, I am in some confusion as to who you’re trying to fool. Generals Cunnings, McClattry, Stepans, and Lynch have all outright stated that the cuts to the Abrams program are actively beneficial and allow for more expenditures on more necessary systems, going so far as to outright point to the Abrams as being actively OVERabunant for the role it is slated to play in conflicts. Even the Commandant of the Marine Corps has agreed that the cuts to new production is beneficial, and the day the Marines turn down the opportunity to get more loud and powerful doorknockers like the Abrams is the day I for one am very assured there are enough of them. Even being the political REMF I am I’ve come to understand Marines enjoy playing with their heavy weaponry.” Lyaksandra gave a soft, and wholly honest laugh with just a trace of the sexual reference that an actual Marine might put into the words. She knew it was being broadcast across the country and even some parts of the world and likely evoking fond chuckles or ‘Semper Fi’s’ from veterans.

“I’m sorry Mister Senator, but those who actually will be using these new toys disagree on the intense need you seem to think they are in. I realize General Dynamics has a number of factories and subsidiaries located in your state and are in a bit of a financial pinch these days with the recession, but that can be said of many companies and I’m not sure pork-barrel spending on systems the military doesn’t need or even want conforms to the free market principles you espouse so often.”

Spluttering on the line now as the Senator realized he had just walked in way over his head, believing her to be merely a face in the crowd brought on to ceremonially oppose him. Lyaksandra didn’t give him the time to recover.

“On a related note sir, I would remind the Senator it was bloated and politically motivated military budgets that played a role in the collapse of my parent’s former country.” Lyaksandra allowed a trace of sarcastic accent to sneak into her voice. It was quite clear from the subtle yet exaggerated manner she used it she was reminding the senator she hadn’t actually been born in her parent’s country and instead mocking him with the stereotypical accent. Pointing out and insulting his xenophobia without her having to actually say anything about it.

The Senator made some kind of response, one she and him both knew was entirely unable to stand up before the withering assault she’d laid on his points, and then the program cut to commercial. Following a more relaxed one-on-one interview about much lighter topics Lyaksandra hung up after exchanging parting pleasantries with the host. Had it been a national news show, Lyaksandra knew she would’ve been more courteous to the opposing senator, but not much more. She had made a political career, such as it was at least, out of being extremely straightforward, it was just that much easier on talk radio. Most of the audience was already jaded over-fifties or jaded college students, and her particular brand of truth-to-power had a tendency of resonating well with them. Best of all, it got them at least somewhat involved in the political scene, if in no other way than pointing out who the liars were and making them aware of them. And that was a worthy enough cause for Lyaksandra to continue taking up the AM talk-show interviews. Hopefully they helped. She desperately wanted them to.

Yawning as she set the phone back down, Lyaksandra leaned back in the couch she’d been sitting on and idly scanned the bookcases in front of her. The bookcases, composite fiberboard put together with mostly plastic components, were bargain-brand specials she’d picked up cheap. She didn’t really care what they looked like, they weren’t meant to be art pieces after all. Plus she’d needed a lot of them to contain the massive collection of books, music and movies she kept on hand. The occasional visitor she’d had to her cheap apartment across the way from MacArthur Park had been astounded at the sheer amount, one of her aides going so far as to call it a library.

Lyaksandra thought of it as research. Finding the right stories or manuals to absorb for different situations was…challenging. On the bright side at least it was inconspicuous enough. Politicians were supposed to have massive walls of books around them, after all. It made them look like they’d actually read some of them. Lyaksandra’s collection, however, was not for show.

Deciding that there was no need for her to change what material she was taking skill cues from, she instead flipped on the TV. It was a very American action. No matter what pricks like the 'senior' Senator from Illinois said or suggested though, she was American, so it was quite appropriate. Besides, her office wasn't far from the apartment and she could always stand to catch up on local news.

The news was reporting on what seemed to be a gang feud that had escalated into gunshots and murder behind a downtown club, a half-dozen blocks from Lyaksandra's apartment the previous night. She was somewhat surprised she hadn't heard it from her own bedroom, but then remembered she actually hadn't gotten in until early in the morning. By which time the gang fight had apparently been over. There was a reason the apartment had come cheap. It wasn't exactly the best neighborhood, so she wasn't surprised. Still, on a very basic emotional level she wished there had been something she'd been able to do. She wasn't innocent enough to think her leading some kind of political crusade could stop such things but...they were happening with far too much regularity for her. What precisely should be done to curb it she would have to think on, but it'd be nice if she could come up with something that would.

For not the first time, Lyaksandra wondered if metas were involved in the gang fight similar to how she was involved in politics. Her parents had emphasized they weren't the only ones in the world with the abilities, and even alluded to meta organizations in other cities. New York's had helped shelter and feed them while they tried to figure out where they'd wanted to live, for instance. What if there were a similar but less friendly organization in Los Angeles?

For not the first time, Lyaksandra felt a bit of a flush come to her cheeks and berated herself for the conspiracy theory. If metas got together they'd hold too much leverage over each other. Identity was too important to do something as foolish as organize, especially for criminal pursuits, when those one was partnering with might sell them out. It wasn't safe.

Lyaksandra had been raised to be safe.

[Damak Var]

Downtown
Present Time: 6:10 AM
Jolevier Tash


It was early morning. Jolevier was back in his usual get up, a charcoal suit and blue tie. He liked looking professional on top of the fact that his day job called for it. There was not much sleep to be had after that debacle at the Charlatan and then his Beverly Hills house with Cheyenne. He had to take care of things there before leaving the girl by herself. Now Jolevier had found himself at a bargain apartment in downtown. Not exactly the usual accommodations for a congressman but he respected the frugality of it.

After straightening his tie and making sure his pocket square was in line, Jolevier knocked on the door lightly.

[Siliarba]

Upper class neighbourhood
Last evening
Cheyenne

Cheyenne smiled at Jolevier "It wasn't about getting warm, or being cold. I just felt like I really had to do whatever it is I did.".

Cheyenne looked at the hot tub and frowned a bit "I don't like water, fire's better." Just as she finished her last sentence she stook out her tongue at the hot tub. Also her pants glowed for a moment then got replaced by a black plated skirt, stockings and combat boots.

Thes changes right now were happening subconciously to Cheyenne as she still wasn't aware of any powers to the point of not even realizing she was wearing a different set of clothing to earlier today.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Downtown
6:10 AM
Jolevier Tash


It was early morning. Jolevier was back in his usual get up, a charcoal suit and blue tie. He liked looking professional on top of the fact that his day job called for it. There was not much sleep to be had after that debacle at the Charlatan and then his Beverly Hills house with Cheyenne. He had to take care of things there before leaving the girl by herself. Now Jolevier had found himself at a bargain apartment in downtown. Not exactly the usual accommodations for a congressman but he respected the frugality of it.

After straightening his tie and making sure his pocket square was in line, Jolevier knocked on the door lightly.

Downtown
6:10 AM
Lyaksandra Janos

Lyaksandra jumped, sending the remote falling to the floor, at the light rapping on her door. She wasn't sure who it could possibly be, the only ones who had her address were aides and her parents.

Perhaps her parents? It wasn't unknown for them to stop by in the mornings to share a cup of coffee so her dad could complain to her about whatever minor matter he had seen in the paper that he thought warranted the attention of the federal government of the United States. Dad still had a bit of trouble understanding exactly how limited the federal government's power was.

"Coming!" she called, throwing herself to her feet before glancing around the apartment. It wasn't dirty but it wasn't exactly clean either...Oh well, her parents would understand.

Approaching the door, Lyaksandra once again wished she'd had one with a peephole installed. She made a mental note to replace it that she knew she would forget, and then cracked the door slightly. Her foot jammed against the bottom and the chain attached to a slider and stud on the wall kept the door from budging open more than a few inches.

Which was enough room for her to tell it was not, in fact, her parents. A brief spike of fear went through her at the quite tall man outside her door. She'd been told that there were groups that targeted congressmen for abduction or...worse. Normally, they'd said, they were caught before actually doing anything but sometimes it required the intervention of a security guard or detail. Lyaksandra had no such security. It had been too much a symbol of elitism.

She did have a revolver in a safe by her bed, though. If he tried to get in...

But she was rushing to judgement. Maybe it was just a new neighbor?

"Good morning? May I help you?" Lyaksandra asked, using her best 'I'm not a United States representative you could kidnap as a bargaining chip in negotiations with law enforcement but a sweet innocent young girl who'd be more than happy to lend you some spare coffee if that's what you need' voice.

[Damak Var]

Upper class neighbourhood
Last evening
Cheyenne

Cheyenne smiled at Jolevier "It wasn't about getting warm, or being cold. I just felt like I really had to do whatever it is I did.".

Cheyenne looked at the hot tub and frowned a bit "I don't like water, fire's better." Just as she finished her last sentence she stook out her tongue at the hot tub. Also her pants glowed for a moment then got replaced by a black plated skirt, stockings and combat boots.

Thes changes right now were happening subconciously to Cheyenne as she still wasn't aware of any powers to the point of not even realizing she was wearing a different set of clothing to earlier today.

Upper Class Neighborhood
Last Evening
Jolevier Tash


That just made him shake his head. It would be wrong to chastise the girl. She was something of a baby to the world though not quite so helpless. Much of that furniture was expensive though. He made a mental note to have a fire pit installed tomorrow and to buy some firewood in case Cheyenne had anymore urges.

"If you're going to be living here, you'll need to take care of your living space. You can clean this mess up tomorrow. Go take a shower upstairs. You're filthy from the ash. Try not to get it on the carpet. I'll make us something to eat in the meantime." He told her. Jolevier was quite hungry himself. Too bad there was nothing in this place but some frozen food. He did not live here after all.

[Damak Var]

Downtown
Present Time: 6:10 Am
Jolevier Tash


Jolevier made a friendly smile. "Good morning to you, Miss Jansone." He replied jovially. The woman was wary, perhaps had a gun pointing right at him behind that cracked door. She did not seem dressed which might have made her feel vulnerable given the impeccable attire Jolevier was wearing. Hopefully that would give him some credibility.

"I was wondering if I could inquire about your heritage." He said to her. Implying that he was another journalist wanting to probe at her foreign origins. "And not your parent's nationality mind you. I mean the source of your, inherent talents..." That might have switched things up a bit.

"Why don't you open the door and we can talk about your campaign's finances?" He asked.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Downtown
Present Time: 6:10 Am
Jolevier Tash


Jolevier made a friendly smile. "Good morning to you, Miss Jansone." He replied jovially. The woman was wary, perhaps had a gun pointing right at him behind that cracked door. She did not seem dressed which might have made her feel vulnerable given the impeccable attire Jolevier was wearing. Hopefully that would give him some credibility.

"I was wondering if I could inquire about your heritage." He said to her. Implying that he was another journalist wanting to probe at her foreign origins. "And not your parent's nationality mind you. I mean the source of your, inherent talents..." That might have switched things up a bit.

"Why don't you open the door and we can talk about your campaign's finances?" He asked.

Lyaksandra visibly relaxed as the man said good morning and asked about her heritage. He was a journalist. Granted an incredibly tall, very well-dressed journalist. But a journalist. She knew what to do. Or rather, her absorbed knowledge knew what to do. She might just brutally murder every aide in her office...and her parents...for giving her home address to a journalist, but that would have to wait until--

Lyaksandra's blood turned to ice water as the man continued about her 'inherent talents'. He knew! She didn't know how but he knew! How could he--

No. She was overreacting. He must just be under the impression that somehow her heritage was responsible for her success as a politician. He must think how she'd been raised or something had impacted her life. That had to be what he meant. It had to be.

Lyaksandra wished she had a more convincing reason why it had to be.

Instead of focusing on that, she instead narrowed her eyes and focused on what she did know. Campaign funding. Her absorbed knowledge whispered into her ear that any source of campaign funds was not to be denied, but her own morals drowned out the whisper in the flood of red-hot fury.

"Listen here, mister, I don't know how you got this address but I'm not for sale to some K-street smooth-talker for some reelection fund you throw at me." Her voice was low and dangerous, the allusion in the man's voice forgotten at the mere thought of something that resembled corruption or inside favors.

"Are you with General Dynamics?" She hissed, completely irrationally. The bill that cut their contracts was still only in committee and still only a handful of days old. Unless they worked incredibly fast it was unlikely it was them. Still, they seemed the closest scapegoat.

Because the man couldn't be there about anything else. It had to be political. Oh God it HAD to be political.

"You know what? I don't care. I'm not interested in your money. I don't care how much you have or how much you're going to spend tearing down my opponent in November." Lyaksandra sniffed slightly and fixed a hard stare at the man as she closed the door on his face, a move that satisfied both the regular and absorbed portions of her mind even if the latter regretted the loss of funding.

"And it's Congresswoman Jansone." She said to the door as it clicked back onto its hinges.