"Mechanus," Afterburner stretched an arm around the man's shoulder, "there's only two or three other places like the Archon in the world.  If you can't find your poison here, you ain't trying.  Mary!  This man's never had a Three Mile Island!  Let's see what's made of!"  He smiled, gestured for Mechanus and the ladies to follow him to a table, and finished his whiskey.  "Alright, important question: are you rockin' the whole dynamo thing?  Because the Three Mile Island shouldn't kill you, but it will work you over like diesel fuel."

Johnny was smooth.  But just past the good times and laughs he gave an unmistakable vibe: I'm sizing you up, stranger.  What are you doing in my town?

While Johnny and Mechanus made friends and Gale tried to enjoy the scenery, the Archon was its usual self.  Energetic novox music blared, teragen groupies and club goers fawned over the nova celebrities in their midst.  On the dance floor, the Olympian drew applause and cheers from a shocked crowd as he demonstrated super-human agility through dance.

Gale spotted a few figures descending from the Private Lounge upstairs: another teragen philosophy talk had just wrapped up, it seemed.  Raoul Orzaiz, the club's owner, was speaking with Narcosis, an up-and-coming nova personality and OpNet celebrity.  Even looking at Narcosis produced strange sensations; her hair and face seemed to flow over the course of three or four seconds, resolving into a captivating, sensual beauty that was already turning heads.  Another woman -- older, dark haired, Indian, dressed conservatively -- followed, scanning the room.  She made eye contact with Gale for a moment, and gave a nod of acknowledgement before turning her attention back to Raoul and Narcosis.

Raoul floated around the room, shaking hands and making introductions.  After a minute or two, he found his way to Gale's corner of the bar.  "Gale, you are lovely as ever.  I trust that all is to your satisfaction?  You are always welcome in my house."  There was a genuine and honest quality to Raoul that differentiated him from the Johnny Afterburners of the world.  In a word, class.  "I know that you have expressed reservations to the Movement in the past, but please allow me to introduce Narcosis and Sin-Eater."

"The pleasure is mine, Gale."  In person, Narcosis wasn't anything like the billboards, the magazines or the movies - and this year, she was lead in a blockbuster and edging out Phantasm for queen of trendy fashion.  Impetus, surely, was larger than life, even in person.  But Narcosis came across more down to earth.  "I hope we're not bothering you."

Sin-Eater, for her part, ordered some wine and watched the room.  She seemed almost intoxicated by the room and all the novas in it, and gave only a brief greeting before sitting down to absorb the scene.

"Dynamo? Please son, I can turn into an Ogma be damned generator!" Paidrag sculled the drink that was put down in front of him.  Once finished he shook his head, lips smacking wetly, "Lugh's curly pubes boy, that'uns feistier than my old lady when th' red knight's seeking lodging!" He clapped Johnny on the shoulders, and not-so-expertly snaked out his other arm to wrap around one of the women that hovered nearby, drawn in by Johnny's star appeal, "Now that I've wrestled that alligator, i'd like to buy a round that won't end in a homicide conviction." Drinks ordered he looked at Johnny, eyes bright in the depths of his mask, "So, Johnny, I understand that you're Utopia's top boy for flying, I wonder how well you can run the course when you've a lady in your arms."
The twinkle in his eye and the cocky grin meant the challenge had been accepted. Utopia's foremost flyboy would have to meet the challenge of his younger, brasher counterpart, or a lifetime of ribbing would ensue.

"I don't know if I could do that.  I'm unsafe at any speed.  You fly?"

"Fly, roll, swim. I do it all. A'course if yer not interested there are some fascinating creatures right here I'm dyin' t' get t' know.
This message was last updated by the GM at 05:56, Sun 15 Sept 2013.

"Of course.  Nobody can match your hospitality," she said in response to Raoul's question.  Now that she was adopting the Teragen philosophy, she felt less on guard around most of the other Terats.  And Raoul had always been one of the more welcoming ones.

To Narcosis, she said, "Nice to meet you.  Please..."  She motioned to the seat next to her.  There was one for Sin-Eater too, but the other woman seemed preoccupied with other things.  "You're not bothering me at all.  I was just watching the crowds.  It's hard to get back into the party scene when you've been out for a while and don't have anyone to bring."

"Oh, I know.  Believe me I know.  I've held off Chrysalis just for that exact reason."  Narcosis smiled.

"I had heard that you're opinions toward the Movement had changed of late," Raoul interjected helpfully, "and Angela was curious to finally meet you."

"I didn't want your only windows into our world to come from familiar sources.  But that was secondary.  Mostly I wanted to shake hands with a Victoria's Secret model and see if you were interested in relaxing upstairs with the rest of us."  She smiled.  "Away from them, you know?"

"Eheh.  Looks like news gets around fast," the winged woman responded,  clawed hand running through her blue hair nervously.  She considered the invitation.  Upstairs was "Novas Only", which meant that Narcosis was referring to baselines.

"Sure, why not?" she finally answered with a shrug.  It wasn't like she was getting much done just sitting here, and maybe they were right.  A little more exposure to other Teragen could be a good thing.  She gathered up her drink and headed for the staircase with the others.  "Though I've got to say, everybody makes way too big a deal of that Victoria's Secret thing."

"Zips aren't exactly complicated, when you get right down to it.  They obsess fairly easily.  I was interested because they were interested."

The four novas reached the private lounge with its sound-proofed glass overlooking the scene below.  A few novas talked, laughed and drank stronger, more illegal beverages that could vex the nova physique.  Ironjaw tended the bar, wearing a vest and brilliant colors.  "Let me be honest.  You've been a nova longer than any of us, except maybe Raoul here."  Raoul toasted with his wine.  "But hardly anyone really knows you.  Really knows you.  They know the Victoria's Secret angel.  They know you as a grad-student-academic-thing.  They know you as a surfer."

"They know the T2M second-stringer," Sin-Eater added.

"But here we are, finally getting our feet and starting to see a future for us, the One Race, and you, one of the first of our kind, remains a relative unknown.  That's a tragedy."

"I agree, but let's not put her on the spot."  Raoul scolded.

"Ugh, fine."  Narcosis gave Gale a friendly look.  "Point being, you're welcome here.  And we'd really like to know all about you."

"Nuh uh, doesn't work like that, hoss.  You issued a challenge, and the way I understand you elites that means there's something on the line.  You sure you want to be challenging me?  I can't become a car, but there's not many drivers better than yours truly."  He kicked his legs up on the table.  "And you already know I fly, so you're just screwing around.  You sure you want to be throwing down?  I'm no elite myself, and I doubt there's much glory you could gain out of this."

Johnny spared a moment to watch Gale drift upstairs.  "Whew, that woman is fine and damn if she doesn't have a heart like an icebox.  Here, take a look Mechanus.  Those three?  They're Teragen Pantheon.  And Gale used to be part of T2M.  That's my league.  You're just dreaming about it."

Paidrag grinned hugely, "Ah was jus' wondrin if you walked the walk or jus' talked the talk.  'S what they say in Paretoria about you pretty boys, 'f ter all." The good natured grin on his face became just the slightest bit predatory.  "Well, boyo, if you're yearnin to take down an elite in one on one com'ptition, tonight's yer lucky night.  Ah issued the challenge, you choose the form. Our witnesses" He leered wolfishly at the ladies, "decide the cost to the loser."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:54, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

She stood stock still (heehee) for a moment, not realizing how unaware she had been.  It had been a long time that she had seen him, longer still to have it be in a casual setting.  Their lives had been struggling with powerlessness, and then fighting.  It was damn good to see him casually leaning on her car, sounding vaguely sheepish that he'd netstalked her.  She gave him a slow grin.

"Nice to know you can always find me.  How've you been, Dillon?"  Feeling a bit awkward at standing in the middle of the sidewalk, she slid next to him, leaning against her car as well, and trying to see the stars over the glare of the neon lights.

"It's good to see you again." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.  She'd wondered how he'd been, after Bahrain, and if he was still, himself.  He'd seemed to be so much more driven than their old crime fighting days.  Had she grown like this too, and just couldn't see it?

"I'm alright.  Hard to get around in Vegas anymore without being recognized, but here I am."  With his node restored, Vegas had once again regained its glamour.  To his eyes, electromagnetic auras shone from every neon tube and touch-screen display.  The metal bones of each building glimmered softly behind skins of glass and stone.  His forehead ached just to be there, and he remembered the first time he'd felt that way, after Training Camp, years ago.

The little private parking lot was tucked carefully away between buildings, affording some privacy for those who could pay for it.  "Looks like you're doing well.  This a new car?  I can't remember the last time I saw you drive."  His expression remained flat, serious.  "We did kick up a lot of trouble in that year there, didn't we?  Seems like I can't go too long without hearing about another vigilante around these parts."  The steely poker face couldn't mask the fact that he was filling time, avoiding more serious discussion.

”You’re not wrong,” the winged woman responded to Narcosis’s assertion, settling into a chair that allowed her wings to not be squashed.  It wasn’t like she made a big deal of which chair she sat in, she just gravitated to it naturally.  ”All the things you mentioned are easily acquired by public records.  I don’t go out of my way to get media attention.  But what if that’s all there is to know?  Would you be disappointed?”  A smile, trying to look somewhat sheepish.

Phantasm would be much better at this game.  Sure, Gale had secrets.  But it wasn’t like nobody knew them.  Just the select people that she considered family.  She couldn’t tell if Raoul and the others were trying to find out those secrets or just being friendly.  ”You want a full history of nova-dom from the beginning, you should talk to Manus Aequitas or whatever he’s calling himself these days.  He was there at the beginning, too.”  She took a sip of wine to give a pause and see how’d they respond.

The Archon

"I don't want a history of nova-dom.  I want to know what it means to be a nova.  For you, personally.  We're all trying to understand what we are, we the One Race.  You've lived that longer than most of us.  And you know what?"  Narcosis gestured with her wine glass.  "I don't think anyone's ever asked you."

"Some of us respect privacy."  Orzaiz gave Gale an apologetic look.  There was zero possibility that Narcosis was drunk, after all.  "But yes, though I believe I gently asked a few questions when we first met, I agree.  Your experiences, good or bad, are as valid and important as any of ours."  He looked every bit the academic for a few moments.  "Before concerning yourself with such weighty matters, better to just enjoy the company of your peers."  He had a variety of exotic appetizers brought out, as well as some of his more flavorful and interesting wines.

"Mmm.  It's true.  If you're curious, I'm full of answers.  One night only, I'll answer just about anything."

Sin Eater laughed, but really was only partly there.  She stood at the glass, watching the novas and baselines mingling below.

The Archon

"The form, huh."  Johnny smirked.  He pulled out his phone, selected a number at random: Flare.  "Alright, 'boyo'.  You want to race, we'll race.  I'll have us a judge here pretty soon, then we can use the drag out near the T2M base.  Really cut loose."

"Until then ... ladies, here we are laughing it up and neglecting you."  Johnny the flirt returned.  With a few racy jokes and a virtuous smile, he had both ladies laughing and smiling.  He finished his whiskey, ordered another, and remembered something.  "And cameras.  The T2M base has cameras.  So when you lose, I'll post our badass race to the net for the world to see.  Damn, hoss, you should be paying me for all the free advertising you're going to get tonight."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:48, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

"If I knew what it meant to be nova, I wouldn't be asking so many questions myself, would I?"  It was a joke, but there was truth behind it.  Just because she'd been nova longer didn't mean that she understood it better than anyone else.

She did, at least, help herself to more of Raoul's hospitality.  She considered their words.  Their motives seemed to be mostly benign; was this what Solitaire meant by joining the dysfunctional family that is the Teragen?  "All right, you've got a deal.  Let's make a game of it.  A question for a question.  But, I reserve the right to refuse to answer.  A girl's gotta keep some secrets."  Another joke, but one she felt necessary.

"I'll start.  Which are you: Marvel, Portent, or Monster, and why?"  The question was directed at all three of them.  Perhaps a bit of cheating.  And she suspected she already knew the answers, but best to hear it straight from them.

Paidrag grinned, "Right you are, hoss." He went back to chatting up the girls with a verve. When the judge arrived it'd be time to focus, now it was time to play.

Flare nodded, feeling a bit of nostagia to be hanging out with Dillon in the dark alleys of Vegas again.  Sometimes she wished things hadn't gotten so complicated, and that they could just be 'arresting' thugs again.

She noted that her phone pinged, apparently something from Afterburner, but focused on her friend.  Anything short of apocalypse could hold on a bit.

"I miss the old times, and yeah, new car.  I've kept a little lower profile after the Michaelist shooting.  They're just looking for a reason to screw with novas, and the last thing I want is to destroy a building because they tried to shoot me out of the sky, or something."  She grimaced with distaste at the thought of anything involving the Michaelist movement.

She'd noticed the tenseness of a Comstock trying to stall and finally rolled her eyes and leaned in conspiratorily.

"Okay, Dillon, as great as it is to see you, I doubt you came out here because you missed my face.  What's up?"

He glanced sideways, hesitating at the wording of her question.  "To be honest, I kinda did."

Dillon was still in work clothes: his Utopia issue eufiber colony worn as a T2M uniform in black and white, fatigue pants and a long coat over it to give him at least some concealment, heavy boots to complete the look.  The clothes alone said everything: Comstock was back, all work and no play.  And yet...  "Ever since Imp's party and this whole quantum remission thing, it's ..."  He reconsidered, bit his tongue and started again.  "Did you ever hear about how I erupted?  I've always been a bit of an idiot, and back then wasn't any different.  Got out of the army, tried to get into college, got arrested after too much booze, then started kicking around Nevada trying to find myself again."  He kept staring ahead.  "Used to go into old abandoned mine shafts because they had signs to stay out.  Wandered in but forgot that I was older, so I went right down to the bottom of a shaft.  Should have died."

"This whole last year or whatever just ..." the sentence faded, unfinished.  "Needed to get some baggage off my chest.  And you're it."  He glanced sideways at her again.  "If you've got shit going on, I can scram.  But if you've got the time, I've got a six pack of your favorite brand that I hid in your trunk."

After a few minutes, the girls excused themselves to catch some air and relief from the relentless energy of the club, but from the look of things they'd each have companionship that night if they wanted it.  And Johnny and Paidrag had received a pitcher of ... something green ... from the waitress.  "So what's the pay for Elites like, anyway?  Been at this a year, got money coming out my ass, and I still don't know what keeps guys like you and gals like the Swarm Queen out there looking up wars and action.  Unless it's the action that's pulling you out there and not the money.  In which case I've got that and a nice cushy paycheck with half the work."  He chugged his glass, drummed his hands on the table, and shook his head about to enjoy the few moments of intense drunkenness he knew he could get out of it.

Damn, he was all fired up, ready to race!  Where the hell was Flare?  He texted her again for good measure.

"T'be totally honest, I'm a might new to the whole quantum powered gladiator thing, but the comp'ny treats us jus' fine. Do a job and make a huge wad of cash, they take some of it and inves it like, some warglebargle about savin fer the future, an then the rest is yours.  No fuss, no muss.  Us up'n comers easy clear 5 ta 10k a week when we work, if'n the work's not too hard.  The rough stuff pays more.  Big donkers, like The Skull and other hard asses'll, make 10-20 times that, fer a piece of piss." He matched Johnny and slammed his now empty glass back onto the bar.  "Bes' thing bout workin' fer DeVries is not havin ta worry bout no public image.  You've gotta keep yer nose clean and shit daffodils, 'ch 's a right pain, innit?  Us, long as we go in, get th' job done, n' make the company look good, we're catbirdin' it. Ah thought you said you had a judge lined up, if not, I say we meet t'morrow mornin and see t' the needs of those toothsome scrubbers firs."

"Well I don't know why she hasn't responded yet, you whining prick, so just hold on another few minutes.  She can fly and I know she's in town."  He texted Flare again, this time slightly more insistent.  T2M Honor At Stake, Must Race This Elite Dickhead, where r u?

"Hey you said the skull.  You mean Totentanz right?  'Ich bin der Hammer, der Dolch, die Sichel, die alles niedermäht', that guy right?  You ever met him?"  His impression was mocking, but he'd perked up, honestly curious for some new information and his booze was wearing off anyway.  "I heard he has some sort of honor grudge with Solitaire.  The last flier who could compete with me in the air, I mean."

"Totentanz, ay, tha's him.  Scary bastard that.  All cold, calculatin, precise like.  He's not much diffrent when the mask comes off either.  Still, solid.  Doesn't talk shit bout nobody, he says he'll do sumthin, he'll bloody do it.  Did some combat trainin' wif him while back.  Lemme tell you, I'm glad DeVries don't put employees on both sides of a fight, I'll never be on the receivin end o wonna his spears."  He poured another glass of The Green Devil, "He an Sol wanna fight, fek, Ah'd luv t'see tha! He'd horse it inna her, though.  Don' matter how fas er how strong she is, y'cain't see im, 'e don't show up on radar er nuffin, then alla sudden yer mojo's runnin like ass juice, and boom, spear inna head."
"Nuffa him though, hear tha' Gale angel's a right fine Molly.  Saucy bit, inna she?"

"Portent," Sin Eater replied immediately.  "I wish to understand myself, and others.  To know all there is about this mysterious power."  She smiled at Gale, clearly euphoric.  The atmosphere must be having a prodigious effect on her.

Orzaiz coughed politely to distract from Sin-Eater's strange behavior.  "Marvel.  The preconceptions of others exist to be challenged.  My identity is secure, but my very existence changes the identities of others."

"I always took you for a Portent yourself, Orzaiz," Narcosis chided.  "All your philosophy, dignity, looking to the future."

"Your lack of insight does not alter who I am."

"Then tell me what I am."

"You have never said.  And more often than not you shy away from philosophical discussions.  With anyone but Mal, anyway."

"So guess."

Orzaiz frowned.  "Gale this isn't typical of our interactions-"

"Just guess already, you basque bastard," she giggled.  Toying with Orzaiz clearly amused her.

"-but if I had to speculate, Narcosis follows the path of a marvel.  She leads and inspires others.  She demands their worship and their awe."

"And that's why you're always a step behind, Raoul.  I am, and always have been, a Monster."  She smiled, her plain face becoming quite beautiful in victory.  Raoul was visibly annoyed.  "We both wear our evolution on our sleeves.  But unlike you, I am free and utterly comfortable in the new flesh.  The day I erupted, I became free.  And Angela became just a flicker of memory."

Raoul shrugged.  "I see your point.  I think, however, that your understanding of Teras may be somewhat flawed in this instance."