CVnU: New York City

@mr__mercury:

Above the Metropolitan Museum stood Ronin, the Umbra Ninja, peering through the rooftops giant window. In Oz's short time in New York he had stumbled upon the criticism being shot towards artist, Shinji Tsukazaki. The extreme critics were even going as far as sending death threats. A believer in the idea that art shouldn't be censored and death threats being a bad idea all together, he had taken a personal interest in the case.

Ronin, sized up the room. First pointing out the main person of interest, Shinji Tsukazak. He then spotted every point of entrance the museum had. Finally he marked every security guard the museum had on their payroll. Being one to pick up on little details, he noticed as the guards began to mysteriously thin out until there was none left.

He sighed. Oz had actual hoped he was wrong for worrying just so he could relax and enjoy the art show, but of course he wouldn't be so lucky. He stood up, cracking his neck and back then pulling out his escrima sticks. He kicked open the windows hatch and waited for his signal.

@dwronin:

The museum spectators wondered where they could have possibly appeared. There was no logical explanation to them being here in public. There aesthetic was too polarizing to spare harsh words.

Feeling the weight of tension on her bare head, Olivia "Livia" Cruz responded with a general strike. With a death stare cemented on her face, she let out an unnatural shriek that sent a slithering chill up the gawking crowd's bones.

"The Caravaggio is in the proceeding room. We move swiftly." pink matter filled his face, seemingly sprouting from his exposed brain. Herman Hans broke from the motley crew and scanned the quadrant's artwork. A cold disregard was given to the victims writhing from Livia's Banshee Screech, scraping at the inner walls of their skulls.

At Livia's summoning, a red mirage blanketed over the four intruders, transforming their harsh appearances into average New Yorkers before their eyes. The four were organized and stationed to retrieve an item stolen from the son of their benefactor. It was a sensitive and personal case and they had the objective of not only retrieving the Caravaggio OoC, but slighting the young man behind the steal.

It's all coming together, I love it when a plan comes together.

@epsilon_: @mr__mercury

A chill ran up the heroes spin as the screech tore through the museum. "What the hell was that?" Four normal dressed audience members walked into the room, coming from the direction of the loud noise. They walked in as one, wearing matching sinister expression's on each of their faces. The strange group looked around, scanning the room. There was no doubt in Ronin's mind, they were casing the joint.

Without a second thought Oz shot a grappling hook from his arm mounted gauntlet. hooking onto a chandler, he swan dived through the open hatch of the window. Ronin was five feet away from the ground as the grappling hook went taut. He back flipped in mid air, releasing his hook and landing in a defensive stance. He was now standing in front of the four attackers.

Some of the crowd became alarmed, thinking Ronin was actually the criminal. Others began to applaud, thinking he was apart of the show somehow. "I really hope for your sake you didn't hurt anyone on your way here." He smacked his escrima sticks together, causing electricity to shoot from the tips. "Stand down now and nobody gets hurt."

@dwronin:

An unassuming hero, the worst breed. Everything seemed to be their business if it appeared to be done with ill will. Well, nothing could be proven so Herman Hans continued playing his pedestrian role. Revealing a hand behind the shade of his olive macintosh jacket, he fixed his owl eye glasses. Looking to the crowd of atendees exchanging an expression of confusion, "...stand down? For God's sake, sir. What are you talking about?"

As collateral, Olyessa, the auburn haired woman, snaked her way from the scene of confrontation and quietly pressed her SR40 ruger to Shinji Tsukazaki's back. "Stay calm. Draw any attention to yourself and I'll waste you." Catching eyes with Livia she guided her to the mount of the Caravaggio OoC with a double glance.

Synchronized in thought, Livia created another illusion. Her physical form remained still to the human eye, but in reality she made her way for the Caravaggio print.

@epsilon_:

Ronin stood his ground, convinced that these people were up to no good. He spun one of his escrima sticks, causing a bolt of electricity to shoot towards Olyessa but not hit her. "I said stand down." The crowd was starting to get out of hand, now realizing that this wasn't just for show.

He looked over at Shinji. "You know these people, Mr. Tsukazaki?" He looked back at the group, noticing the woman, he'd later learn was named Olivia, was standing there looking very calm and placid, as if she wasn't all there. Something didn't seem right.

@dwronin: A jerk reaction to the hero's taunt, Olyessa shot her Ruger at the calf of Shinji's friend, Lee Kensou, forcing the young man. Blood poured from his calf as he gripped his hands around the wound, to reduce blood loss. ""This isn't a fcking game!" she screamed, firing her Ruger with lightning speed at another unsuspecting attendee. This time clearing the shot on the man's forehead. She cocked the Ruger and pressed it harder against the curator's back. "Try that again and he's dead!" her shrill voice crawled through the high ceiling room. Olysessa's eyes glanced over the Caravaggio and it was gone. Livia gotten off with it. The diversion was fluid.

"The Caravaggio." Shinji's baritone voice rumbled and Olyessa felt it reverberate through her pistol to her hand; but their was no time to register what had transpired for her. Shinji pivoted and attacked with an unmeasured barrage of strikes, that swept her off the ground and ruptured her sense of reality. Now Shinji towered over Olyessa's as she groaned on her back. His disguted scowl was the last thing she saw before she faded from conscious. The curator quickly tended to his friend and exchanged Japanese words before racing off into the eastward direction.

@epsilon_:

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Ronin hadn't realized the woman had a gun and because of his rash actions someone was hurt. Before he could think of his next line of action Livia was down for the count. It seemed as though there was more to Shinji Tsukazaki then meets the eye. Shinji was well trained and fast, his attacks would seem like a blur to anyone without well trained eyes like Oz's.

Ronin lunged towards Herman Hans, as the crowd of screaming people headed for the exits. He sent a barrage of escrima stick pelts of his own, aimed for the man's specific pressure points. He'd follow those attacks by sending a hard punch to the temple with his robotic fist, which was capable of going through steel. He didn't want to kill this man, just knock him out so he could follow Shinji.

@dwronin: Herman Hans feigned defeat, taking his pedestrian role on completely. It was the vigilante's word's against his assault, blood & bruises. If the NYPD arrived their was no proof he was attached to the strike. The blows reduced Herman to the floor and removed him from the plan for the time being.

Meanwhile...

Livia anxiously paced through the museum halls looking for an alternative out. It was either the police, the vigilante, the curator or a mix of both pursuing her. The wear on her mind was felt. Sustaining the illusion over her partners in crime grew draining as time expanded. The print she clutched with both hands was a heft within itself. Her shoulders were locked and she could feel them growing tense. I'll give it a few more minutes before I let the illusion up, for only a minute. She needed the willpower to port herself. Coming to a split in the hall, Livia made a left and slipped into an unlocked dark room. She needed to catch her breath and cull her focus.

@epsilon_:

Ronin stood above the unconscious man, question his actions before staying firm. He pulled out a cartridge for one of his arrows, throwing it on the unconscious man. He jumped over Han's as concrete began to burst from the plastic cartridge and encased Han's torso.

The hero quickly caught up to Shinji, running by his side. "I'm sorry about your friend, dumb move on my part. Do you know who these people are? Or what they are looking for?"

@dwronin: They were dead-set. Shinji's lapis lazuli eyes. "They're thieves. They stole my Caravaggio." The curator made no alteration to his fiery sprint. Ronin's assistance was appreciated, but not a necessity to Shinji. Prior to Ronin catching up with him, Shinji had tapped into the infrared spectrum electromagnetic ability. His mind's eye had become a heat seeking sentry and he was already deadlocked onto Livia's heat signature. He wanted to waste no time. Livia needed to be dealt with swiftly and LK needed proper medical assistance. Like a flash in a pan, a thin web of electricity spiraled his lofty figure and his speed increased exponentially. The leather soles of his Sophnet oxfords picked up an unnaturally rapid rhythm and he had exceeded the pace Ronin matched him with. His feet seemed to be gliding across the hardwood floor.

@mr__mercury:

Ronin nodded, he had read about the Caravaggio, a new controversial, pseudo-realistic work of art. "Any reason they would to steal it? Do you think they're planning on selling it on the black market? Or is there another reason?" He was amazed by Shinji's speed, watching as the bolt of electricity ran by his side. Shinji was no regular human being. Ronin ran as fast as he could slowly falling behind Shinji but still keeping up. "Are you a mutant? I had no idea you had powers, even your fighting skill was a surprise."

@dwronin:

Ronin's voice echoed behind Shinji and he picked up fragmented bits of his words. They were questions he had no obligation to answer, especially to a stranger. He cut left around the corner, tracking Livia's heat signature behind the walls, before he arrived at a closed door. Slipping in, the room was pitch dark, but he saw her solar-hued heat signature pulsing. Mapping the intensity of heat distributed throughout her body, suggested she was either anxious, fearful, angry or a melange of the three. Blue energy surged from his eyes, illuminating the darkness of the room. Like a magnet, Livia's body snapped inches away from his face. Her feet dangling above the ground. An electrical surge navigated her nerves, putting her body in stasis. "You don't give a damn about this artwork." His lapis luzuli glare burned her spirit as she gagged to breathe air to speak. "So who hired you? How many of them are you" He sent an electric defibrillation through her chest causing her to shriek and involuntarily twitch and writhe.

@mr__mercury:

Ronin picked up on Shinji's decision to ignore his question, there was something else going on. Things weren't exactly as they seemed, especially the art curator, known as Shinji Tsukazaki. Shinji's speed picked up causing Ronin to fall even farther behind. Though he had fallen back he was able to see the curator slip into the dark room, how did he know exactly where she was? "Who hired you? How many of them are you?" Ronin heard Shinji's stern voice as the room lit up. He kicked open the door to the scene of Shinji torturing the girl.

"That's enough." He didn't want to further complicate things by fighting Shinji, but he wouldn't allow torture. "There's no need for this, you've caught her. She'll tell us what we need. Right?" He looked over at Livia, who had a strong look of anguish.

@dwronin: "Kuso!" Dimples pressed upon his cheeks as he clenched his jaw. He saw the desperation in Olivia's eyes. She was close to cracking, revealing an explanation to the motive behind the heist. Standing at the doorway, Ronin served as her savior, her voice. "You wasted." Shinji's voice was demanding and audibly thunderous, "My time."

Breaking the laws of physics, the Caravaggio surged towards Shinji and he stopped the frame within his palms. "She'll tell you what you need." He flung her across the room, her skin squeaking across the hardwood flooring. Olivia lie curled in fetal position, sucking for air to fill her lungs. If there was any insult Shinji took seriously it was wasting his time and Ronin wasted his.

Stepping past Ronin without flinching Shinji leaned on the door frame. He saw two streams of lights dancing through the hall. The NYPD had arrived. Without missing a beat Shinji weakly waved down the two officers, "She's in here. The theif." He was panting and pressed his back against the wall, resting on the floor. "That man....in the room" he feigned loss of breath. " stopped her....." he dropped his head in his lap, maintaining his act of exhaustion.

@mr__mercury:

Suprised by Shinji's angry demeanor, Ronin was very taken aback by the shift in character. Ronin stood firm though, not saying a word till Shin left the room and pretended he was a regular civilian. Oz kneeled down by the girls side, actually feeling bad for her. "Everything is going to be ok, now." He knew she was too shaken up to give him any information, so instead he'd find out from the man she had tried and failed to steal from.

The police stepped into the room, Olivia was on the ground but Ronin was no where in sight. The windows were not coincidentally wide open. When Shinji finally found himself alone after all of the commotion, Ronin stepped out of the shadows. "You showed no remorse for the pain you caused that girl nor did you give me answers to what is going on. That leaves me to believe you're not completely innocent in this. What exactly are you hiding? Besides super powers that is."

(Heh, so many things to do... what to choose...)

@dwronin: Resentfully watching his childhood friend, Lee Kensou be transported to Cedars Sinai Hospital, Shinji impatiently waited for the dispatched officers to clear him. He needed to recharge within the solitude that his apartment afforded him. After he tied up his interview with the police officers he walked the parking garage heading towards his onyx Mercedes Benz G500 when Ronin reappeared. He grilled him from the jump, "...What exactly are you hiding? Besides super powers that is."

A guile smirked traced across his dewy face, "I did my interview with the police earlier." he marched past Ronin without even acknowledging him with a mere glance. His car chirped and he hooked around to the driver's side. Before entering he stood on the base of the interior floor directed his smug gaze at Ronin, "Playing wannabe cop you'll be dead within the year. " Careless to a response, Shinji slipped into his car and left for the parking garage exit.

@mr__mercury:

Ronin couldn't help but chuckle as the car drove off, dealing with this guy was going to be a lot of fun. Shinji had secrets and formidable enemies. Something inside just tugged at Ronin, telling him to find out why. He was smart and very resourceful, was he smart enough to find the tracker under his car?

The ninja was now gone. The tracker would map out every location Shinji would take his car, sending the information to Ronin's database. Ronin would investigate another time, when Shinji's guard was down.

(That was fun, love how smug Shinji is...it's great xD)

@dwronin: [ It was, the plot can only thicken from here. Ronin hasn't seen the last of Shinji. ]

@mr__mercury: (This should be quite interesting!)

Amarth

The Meta-Assassin was in for a lot of thinking when he arrived back home. Usually, he'd be after his next contract by now, but Ronin had given him quite a bit to think about. As Wade was about to open up his holographic screen on his phone... he hesitated. Why was he so nervous? He'd been an assassin for decades now, and there was little point in changing that.

But what if he was wasting his own talent?! What if all this 'Kill for Pay' stuff was just a waste of his time? To be honest, he had asked himself the same question before, but he had continued being a assassin. Who cared about it not being an honorable occupation? It payed... and that's all that mattered.

@zauberin

At the conclusion of a succession of extra-dimensional excursions to unknown planes of existence detailed poorly in children's fairy-tales and extensively in tomes of esoteric and mystical knowledge, Ambrosius' tall, broad-shouldered frame emerged from a vividly colored rift. Enveloped in a fine, vermilion cloak of upscale silk, his regal countenance expressed no acknowledgement for the passing, even judging glances of curious pedestrians as the portal behind him dissipated. His attention had already been seized, it had been seized prior to his unceremonious ingress. Months of intensive meditation and relearning had reawakened his once revered talent for the arcane arts, and with his powers returned, locating Arturia via her particularly powerful life-force was a facile task.

He was concerned for her well-being and whether or not she had been relatively unscathed during his lengthy absence, and of course, he was partially curious about the condition of the estate left to her. A wealthy man never truly evolves beyond his materialist manners, Ambrosius thought with a mildly entertained smirk as he began his search for a woman who had once nearly siphoned him of his own life-force.

@ambrosius:

In the time since Ambrosius' unexplained absence, Arturia searched all ways she'd known how in trying to locate him, but, those yielding no results, she had eventually given up on the endeavor, assuming the worst - that he just didn't want to be found. She'd since found some measure of solace with her self, being convinced to forget about him almost entirely, but his reappearance was perceived almost immediately through an esoteric, unconscious connection inadvertently established some time before they had ventured separately to the "Land of Fables."

This connection snapping him back into her mental focus, Arturia decided immediately that she could not pass up the opportunity. As he had found her location, her locating him was nigh immediate, in no small part due to the brief energy disturbance.caused by the portal that heralded him.

Feeling a little mischievous, Arturia kept her back turned toward him, acting natural and pretending not to notice anything aside from her other "business" in the area. She waited for when he would inevitably approach her and she could attack him with a spinning elbow out of feigned surprise.

@zauberin:

Calmly transfixing his gaze on her frame, a tamely amused smile stretched across his proud, highborn visage, 'She knows I'm here, she must be employing some kind of prank or joke', he thought, certain of himself with respect to Arturia's apparent aloofness. During his cabalistic sabbatical from the known world, Ambrosius while concerned with the restoration of his own abilities, also made laborious attempts at crafting some sort of archaic artifact or discovering the correct combination of ingredients to develop an alchemical solution that would render his more spirited companion exempt from the requirement of another being's life-force. His efforts ended in failure, though he did manage to purchase an enchanted scarf from an anthropomorphic feline merchant, a scarf that gifts it's wearer with a modest but noticeable increase in life-force. It wasn't what he originally intended but it was something.

Approaching, he lightly tapped her shoulder with his left index finger, "Arturia, I-", his greeting however, was cut short by an alarmed spinning elbow cracking him on the nose, it's kinetic energy robbing him off his own equilibrium as he quickly stumbled backwards. "Ah.. fodas", he cursed under his breath, reverting back to his native Portuguese, his left hand softly rubbing his fractured nose.

@ambrosius: There was some part of Arturia that was genuinely surprised her little assault prank had gone off perfectly as her elbow connected with Ambrosius' face, toppling him. This modicum of surprise, coupled with her genuine wonder at where he'd been and how he'd returned, went into a cover of complete astonishment at running into him. "Oh! Ambrosius!" She gasped, kneeling to check on him, though almost certain he was fine; she hadn't used full force. She then reached out with her mind to lift him back to his feet with her telekinesis, also removing any dirt from his persons.

"Are you alright? Where've you been?" she questioned, stepping back with her hands upon her hips, surveying him from head to toe. There was genuine concern in her voice, and more than a little excitement, but she refrained from apologizing or showing joy until she was assured he hadn't just abandoned her and come back for some nonsense.

@zauberin:

With the exception of a slightly fractured nose, the reputed sorcerer was relatively unscathed by the playfully executed assault. "Sim sim, estou bem, estou-", coming to an immediate pause, transitioning from his native Portuguese to English as the supernatural seductress telekinetically ascended him back to his feet, "Yes, I'm fine", his distinct European accent partially rolling with every word. He wasn't an exceptional healer, his spell-casting while revered in the mystical corners of the globe, had never focused in the art of healing. He was an illusionist, a conjurer, an enchanter and an alchemist. Meeting her inquisitive gaze, Ambrosius instinctively regained his inborn poise and monarchical flair.

"Several places to be precise. Generally indulging in practices that successfully restored my powers. But also researching various alchemical methods and the like with respect to finding a way to supply you with an infinite quantity of biophysical energy. So that you'd never hunger again", he explained quite calmly. "I failed, unfortunately. But I did manage to find this", sliding beneath his vermilion cloak, his right hand reached into his attire's breast pocket, emerging with the bundled scarf. "It's for you. It's not much, however it should supply you with additional life-force and diminish your hunger".

@ambrosius: "A scarf?" Initially taken aback by the presentation, Arturia knew better than to question how exactly the garment worked. "Uuh...thanks?" She took it with some uncertain gratitude, but in honesty found herself not thinking much on her hunger situation, not fully satisfied with him yet. "You left. Without telling me," she pointed out accusatorily. Her eyes flashed red with apparent anger. "You selfish..." Catching herself, she threw her berating out, considering he had at least good intentions, and as one of two whom she shared a considered bond with, she didn't want to alienate Ambrosius. "So...welcome back." Her attitude shifted immediately with a smile, becoming completely placated. "I'm glad you're safe. Did yo bring me anything else? Books? Trinkets? Memories? Are you tired?"

@zauberin:

Her indignation, her overall irascibility with his abrupt abandoning of her person was somewhat anticipated. And it was warranted. Ambrosius made no attempts at verbal justifications. His visage remained politely temperate as he issued a complacent nod in response, "Yes yes, I know. I should have probably taken you with me", he paused, a tame exhale escaping him, "Or at least, I should have kept you informed. In any case, you have my apologies, Arturia", affably inclining his head in requesting forgiveness, he'd never verbally do so however, he was perhaps too proud or valued his own magisterial character too much to do so, at least in a public setting. "I'll never leave you again", he affirmed, a mildly jocose smile curling, "Not without telling you at least", he subtly jested.

"Well, I collected several tomes of esoteric knowledge for myself, but I did bring you other gifts. The scarf was the most important however, at least I believe it to be, given that I prioritized my acquisition of it based on necessity". Taciturnly opening his gloved palm, allowing a silver garnet necklace to manifest, the Sorcery's Savant genteelly extended his hand towards his calmed companion. "Wear this, and you should be able to cast a myriad of different illusions. Once a day it enables it's wearer to trap a victim via eye contact in an illusionary realm completely in the wearer's control. As you can imagine, the psychological trauma the victim can be subjected to is quite extreme".

@ambrosius: She'd already wanted to be swayed by his mere appearance, so it didn't take much for Arturia to completely forgive Ambrosius. She returned his nod with a smile, intended to appear reluctant, as if she had decided to be magnanimous. Inwardly, she knew she'd have to come clean on her own secrets of what happened since his disappearance in due time.

The silver pendant glimmered in her eyes and Arturia wasted no time in grabbing it. Both that and the scarf, she intended on analyzing for their properties, and for the possibility of learning their enchantments for her own replication, and with help, potential improvement. "Lemme get this straight. So how exactly does it work? Do I just get one use per day on a person or is there some light trick to making illusions on a broad scale?"

@zauberin:

For a moment he smiled internally at the thought of the two of them openly discussing the intricacies of the items' enchantments, and then he realized that it was New York and the wandering pedestrians have probably already heard one or two mentally deranged homeless men rambling on about either magic or extraterrestrial communication. "Allow me to explain. You can cast ordinary illusions as many times as you like. But only once per day are you allowed, by the necklace of course, to trap a victim in this illusionary realm. Though it can only be used once a day, the ability can be used, in that time, to simultaneously trap a maximum of three victims". Regally folding folding both arms behind his back, his back straightening, yielding to his highborn, proud posture, Ambrosius' emerald gaze settled intently on Arturia.

All of this question regarding where he'd been and he'd almost forgotten to ask her about her occupations during his absence. "I'll give you the rest when we're home. Though I have to ask about you as well, Arturia". While he found himself a fairly interesting person, he was also genuinely intrigued by what his companion could have been up to. "So, tell me", chivalrously spreading his arm across her back, his palm briefly resting atop her shoulder as he guided her into an aimless stroll in the grandiloquent city. Refolding both arms, he continued, "What have you been up to while I was away? Surely something interesting, I assume, yes?".

@ambrosius: "Works for me," Arturia conceded with a shrug. The necklace as he explained it was not far off from her hopes, and actually beyond her expectations. Dropping her hands, she released the amulet and scarf from her grip and both items appeared to dissipate into the air, in reality dropping through dual portals of her own making for storage.

Home. The word echoed in her mind and sent a chill up her spine. Since Ambrosius had been gone, Arturia had encountered....herself. This..."other Arturia" venturing back with her from another universe, had since moved in, and together, they had reduced Ambrosius' deluxe Chicago abode to a mess of magic - though to their credit, much of that mess was made searching for resources and trying to bring him back. "Interesting is...one way to describe it." It was in part a stall. She hadn't decided yet how much she wished to tell him. "A few problems here and there, delinquents and things, but we managed to take care of it. Oh. I may be getting into trouble soon." Her extra remark, however, referred to a dream she'd had, predicting her future, rather than her stature in response to failing to care for to his home.

@zauberin:

For the time being, Ambrosius interpreted the ambiguous nature of Arturia's initial response as conversational playfulness. "And how would you describe it?", he inquired, casting a tame glance in her direction as they ventured all about the concrete jungle. "I'm pleased to hear that everything went relatively fine. With you, and of course, the house", he added, directing his well-born gaze to their front. "Now what's this about trouble?". The question, while conveyed his genuine concern with how much trouble she may be plummeting herself into, also expressed his intrigue, or rather curiosity over it's potential supernatural nature and what it could yield to his research in all things magical. "I'm both curious about what it could entail, and concerned about you".

@ambrosius: "I'd call it interesting," Arturia replied matter-of-factly with a smirk, before adding just the same, "and terrifying. A pain in the ass. And probably a few other things. But I assume you get the point." She paused briefly before going into her explanation of the trouble she anticipated. In part because the dream had not been entirely clear, but also because, if she understood it correctly, and her actions lined up - as she knew they would - she was not to be totally innocent.

"I had a dream," she spoke freely. "Just a couple of confused girls. I can handle it." In her voice there was a levity indicating complete apathy regarding what would happen with her apparent future antagonizers, and complete freedom from worry as to how it would turn out. In truth, she had no idea.

@zauberin:

She had always been somewhat of a mischievous character, as far as he'd known her at least. Her elfin smirk was more or less anticipated by the Illustrious Illusionist. Tamely, he met it with a quipping smirk of his own, for a moment. "I had assumed that you would have had an interesting adjective for it", he coolly remarked, the upwards curl of his lips fading to give way to the instinctive rise of his left brow in expressed curiosity, "Oh? Well... that is interesting", indeed it was. Terrifying, and a pain in the ass? "Unpleasant of course, but interesting nonetheless". Shifting his gaze to the side, catching sight of an entrance to Central Park, Ambrosius, with the cordial guidance of his arm, genteelly turned her frame towards the urban park as he ventured inside.

"I've been traveling nonstop, I'd like to sit for a moment". At the age of thirty eight, he wasn't quite that old and his overall appearance and physical fitness expressed the visage of a man closer to his physical prime. He was simply tired. "A dream? Perhaps when we're home, you could allow me to explore your mind". Locating an unoccupied park bench, the Portuguese urbanely sat himself, his regal posture never abandoning his person even for a minute moment. "I rather like New York", he admitted, "Not the people, but the architecture is far more grandiloquent than what I'm used to seeing in Portugal, and in the fantastical but technologically primitive realms I visit. Transporting our home here would be interesting, wouldn't it?", he inquired, casting her a quick but expectant glance.

Though he was quick to correct himself. "Unfortunately that's not something that would be particularly intelligent of me. This city is a common target for the tyrants and whatnot of our time. I'd rather not have my home caught in the crossfires. What do you think, Arturia?", again, he inquired, "During my absence you took care of the estate. It's as much your home as it is mine. Though you already knew that".

Wait a minute. I know I made a post here a few hours ago. -____-

@zauberin: CV probably ate it LOL.

How annoying...

@ambrosius:

"Of course. should've figured as much, traveling with an old human," Arturia poked, accompanying him to the bench, maintaining a gentle hold on him as he sat, pretending to the notion of one helping an elder. Regrettably, his offer, or request, to enter her mind would be met with refusal. "I...don't really like anyone else inside my head." As she herself sat, she brought her feet upon the seat and wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging her knees to her chest.

"New York is damaged goods, Ambro. It might all look spectacular - it's supposed to - but it's really not so great. The architecture?" Realizing the frankly judgmental way she'd been speaking, she shrugged off her own remarks, making an attempt to dial it back. "I mean...New York, Chicago, it's all the same to me. I don't care about architecture. I care about things and people. Whatever you want is just as fine."

Not wanting to linger awkwardly, or to offend, she thought to point out suddenly, almost proudly, "Y'know, I used to sleep on this very bench. And others around the city. The world."

@zauberin:

Often dictated by his distinguished poise and penchant for extreme self-mastery, Ambrosius met Arturia's jest regarding his age with a rather tame reaction, one of appropriate humor expressed by the ghost of faint laughter, "Hm, I should have known", he remarked, subtly shaking his own head, a temperate smile succinctly stretching across his stately features. The seductress' voiced uneasiness with the psionic exploration of her mind was understandable, it was a distaste shared by the Portuguese illusionist, one that encouraged him against protesting Arturia's dismissal of his suggestion. "That's fine. I wouldn't welcome anyone peering into my mind as well, even you". Shrugging unapologetically with respect to his unveiled fascination with ostentatious architecture, Ambrosius tersely touched on the subject.

"I come from a rather small city with nothing particularly great about it. It's difficult not to be occasionally captivated by the aestheticism and artistry of infrastructural and architectural juggernauts like New York", he shared, momentarily shifting his emerald gaze towards a towering building a street across the park's entrance. Arturia's revelation of once sleeping on this very bench was quick to seize the sorcerer's attention, his eyes quickly meeting hers prior to briefly settling on the bench. "Well fortunately, I was fond enough of you to offer you a proper home as opposed to slumbering on the... finest benches of this world's cities", he smiled with mock but somewhat well-meaning benevolence. "Speaking of fondness, I believe I can give you your third gift here".

Atop his right hand's open palm, an onyx ring-case materialized through supernatural means, "No, this isn't going where it seems to be", Ambrosius quickly clarified, making an immediate effort in dispelling the implications one might expect from being offered a ring in such a manner. Allowing the minuscule case to open on it's own accord, a fourteen karat white gold ring featuring one emerald cut center diamond encompassed by fifty two round, brilliant cut diamonds arranged to aesthetic perfection. "There's nothing magical about the ring with the exception that it is stupidly expensive", he pointed out. At this point, he'd realized that she'd forgiven him for his abrupt absence, and he never truly intended to gift her the ring in an attempt to win her forgiveness with an empty financial gesture, it was simply put, a tenderhearted gesture. "You can't put a price on kindness and generosity, though the people at the jewelry store who sold me the ring made a commendable effort at it".

Lighting his Montecristo No. 2 Cuban cigar with a weakly conjured flame, the Portuguese indulges in a nonchalant inward suck prior to blowing a cloud of permeating smoke. "Shall we go home then, Arturia?", he inquired, "Not to offer any credibility to your jests about my age but, I really am quite tired".

@ambrosius: Hey, man. Not saying your writing is wrong cause that would make me a hypocrite of the worst kind, but I felt like I should warn you that the Portuguese cursing isn't 'fodas' but 'foda-se', which means 'fck it' (you probably know it, just a friendly heads up =)

@_nobody_: Oh my bad, mano. I wasn't aware of that subtle difference. Normalmente digo isso em Espanhol ;P

@ambrosius:

"Huh. I guess some people are just different," Arturia mused, regarding their differences with respect to the care of architecture vs. the people. She had grown without much herself, and spent much of her time as a vagabond, but while she would never admit it, and in truth possessed a particular fear of them, people fascinated Arturia; she'd always wanted to be close to them. Often, to be them. This constituted one of the primary reasons she enjoyed traveling so much, not particularly bothered with not having a home, most times.

The initial presentation of the ring was met with a blank stare, Arturia being unsure herself of the typical implications of the band in many human cultures. She did, however, understand one thing, this assumption prompting her to a suspicious, squinting scrutiny of his face and body language for clues. He wanted something or he was making up for something; either way, he was softening her up. The thought of it caused her to shudder with nervousness, considering how she felt she owed him for bringing another into his life without warning, and the condition she left his home in, of which he unknowingly continued to guiltingly remind her. Nevertheless, she took the ring, examining it herself for a moment before slipping it onto her finger. A perfect fit.

"Hey!" The flame's manifestation gave Arturia a quick start for just a second while it lasted, and she instantly teleported away from the bench, a few feet in front. Aside from her natural disdain for smoke, she'd never gotten over a fear of fire, which she had kept hidden. Her lip, twisted up in a sneer, was quickly corrected into a rather neutral smile. "Yeah, I better come with you so you're safe," she muttered under her breath. "Wait til you get a load of me." Her closing remark yet another cryptic reference to her alter-universe counterpart, she sincerely hoped they would get along just as well. Only time would tell, she thought as she conjured up two separate portals for the two, one designated smoking, the other, not disgusting.

@la_espada: Imaginei haha Eram 5 da mañana, acordei cedo e entediado, ai comecei a ler =P Se tiver duvidas, so perguntar.

@zauberin: (I want to meet the other Arturia when you're willing)

"Indeed, some people are different", he agreed, "Although I simply consider myself an incredibly interesting person. I'd love to have a conversation with myself", Ambrosius sincerely remarked, blowing yet another cloud of smoke, his indulgence in the premier Cuban cigar being one of several of the Portuguese illusionist's highborn hobbies. Mute as he watched Arturia's rather tame reaction to the ostentatious ring, Ambrosius' countenance betrayed no expression of expectation, the maintenance of his inherent poise was necessary, at least in public spaces. While reputed for his intellectual wizardry in all things supernatural and his arcane virtuosity regarding the mystical arts of conjuration, enchantment, illusions and the like, Ambrosius was rather poor in expressing his truest emotions, verbally or otherwise.

The ring, as stupidly expensive as it was, was his best way of conveying that while he might be too proud to admit it to her so bluntly, he truly did miss her during his absence. And so for a moment, the corners of his mouth edged upwards ever so slightly in simultaneously the most minute and genuine smile. Only for a moment however. Though he was a perceptive character, this was the first that Ambrosius had noticed an overreaction to nearby flames from the seductress, it piqued his curiosity somewhat but he opted against exploring it, after all it was entirely possible that she was simply caught off guard. "I don't understand", he pointed out, uncertain of what she meant by her concluding statement. Perhaps it was simply an English expression he was unaware of, he thought.

A tame laugh escaped his tall, dapper person as he rose to read his conjured portal's name, "Charming", he dryly commented, stepping into the portal, unaware of the shock he is to experience upon witnessing their estate's less than stellar condition.

@andres_knightfall

Clad in scanty white attire fitting of the Hellfire Club, Dr. Steele strode toward the New York branch. She didn't find it as lavish as the Paris club, but the location could not be beat. The Mistress of the Mind was not emerge from death to concern herself with decor or ease of travel. She would go to the ends of the earth, the universe even, if it suited her goals. For now, she was to meet one individual in particular: The White King of the Hellfire Club, Andres Knightfall.

Her long, slender neck was wrapped with a white collar; her shoulders adorned with a fur-lined cape of luxurious arctic fox. Her bare thighs were wrapped with fine leather, specially fitted boots elongating her naturally slender legs. The heels of her impractical but sultry footwear tapped rhythmically on the concrete as she caught sight of the White King leaving the club. Her ruby lips curled into a pleasant smile denying the mingled emotions within her at seeing the resurrected Knightfall. Feelings aside, they had much to discuss. The beautiful predator approached her former lover with a simple introduction, one giving him plenty of leeway in how the Catalan would react to the alluring visage of the Psyentist. "Andres."

@the_psyentist:

Pouring himself a glass of Johnnie Walker's Blue Label scotch whiskey, the Ermenegildo Zegna-clad White King indulged in a temperate sip of the premier alcoholic beverage. And for a moment he reminisced of his joint discovery of the cosmopolitan brand with Santiago Porthos during their teenage years. Fond memories drew a tame smile on his flawless features, a smile that was quick to dissipate, yielding to the emergence of a raised brows and an overall expression of shock in response to his electro-perception's detection of a dangerously familiar bio-electric field. Surely it couldn't have been Alexandra. But it was, and strangely, for a man who has bore witness to the most perplexing events in the universe, it was the unanticipated reemergence of an ex-lover that most disarmed him.

The Knightfall Don was however, in characteristic self-mastered fashion, was quick to regain his poise and legendary composure. Conducting himself with a highborn, patrician flair and inherent regalia, he turned to greet the returning Psyentist with a cordial inclination of the head, his resolute voice addressing her, "Alexandra", his civil, denim blue gaze meeting hers, patiently awaiting the revelation of the purpose behind her appearance.

@andres_knightfall: Her smile broadened at the at the gentle introduction. "I'm aware you were instrumental in securing my reformation of my mind. I'd say I'm in your debt, but you killed me once before, so I think this makes us about even." With a cool exhale, cleansing herself of the shackles of emotion rendered by the past, Xandra continued. "I'm here before you for a number of reasons. Firstly, I'd like to congratulate your escape from the Third Society. And with your mind intact." She tapped her satin gloved hands together with a mock applause. "I have been conversing with our mutual friend Señor Porthos... charming, handsome man. Incredible mind. I might be smitten." The doctor chuckled softly. "I plan on being instrumental in the downfall of those egotistical machines, and I hear you might be as well. I've been sworn to secrecy by Santiago to not reveal your involvement or even mention your name. I have no purpose in betraying that trust. Just to reassure your own conscientious mind." Dr. Steele arched a brow as her head tilted toward the man. "I heard you have a family now. I'm very glad you've found someone you really love and hope it isn't mired by the betrayals that ruined us. I wish you both the best. In fact, I'd love to meet her. The Black Queen, isn't she?"

Maverick stood on a apartment building in queens looking down at people moving freely through a pair of seemingly high-tech binoculars. His target was a 43 year old white male with a half moon scar under his right eye. John's employer accused this man of sleeping with his wife. Personally Maverick thought everyone had slept with the man's wife whats the harm in this guy. But a job had to be done. It took a moment to pick the man out of the crowds of people waiting for the bus on their morning commute, once the man was spotted Maverick pulled a silver blade from his belt, a pure silver blade with chili powder sprinkled over it. His calling card, how people knew he did his job. Holding the knife in his robotic arm he threw the knife forward it flew forward with speed that could outrun a bullet it embedded the silver knife hit its target. It went straight through the mans lung as directed by the employer a slow death from blood loss. The crowd was in panic, the blade sat in a puddle of blood under the target who was now lying on the sidewalk. John stood in place and observed, waiting for his employers call concerning his payment.

Damn! People doing stuff in the daylight *Shakes fist*