There was nothing wrong with a party, was there? A party could be a real eye opener. It allowed people to embrace their more carnal sides, gave them chance to let loose and just exist. That was the problem, not a lot of people knew how to exist anymore. Everyone was so preoccupied with trying to impress others or make themselves into something that they weren’t that they didn’t know how to just be themselves; well, not without some alcohol, music, and some flirtatious glances. Where else would someone get a chance like that?

The Sapphire Grand Opening. After the Pennyworth Place had been purchased and closed down, no one thought that it would be turned into much of anything; the odds were high that it would be torn down to make room for another parking lot. But work started on the hotel quicker than anyone thought. Rather than being torn down, it was being built up, and the expense and attention that was being paid to the structure immediately began to excite the surrounding neighborhoods, and then the city.

Clever publicity, a mysterious benefactor known only on paper, and general hype were all that were needed to ensure that come the Grand Opening, already all the rooms were booked. A small, elegant party was being thrown in the hotels new Diamond Lounge restaurant, and truly it was a sight that could take one’s away.

But that wasn’t where the real party was being held.

The top floor, where access was restricted due to some lingering renovations, a far superior party was being held -- for a far superior group of people. It was here that a party for mutants was being held. Music, dancing, food, all of it was being held for members of the Syndicate, prospective members, and mysteriously invited members of the mutant community and supporters with influence. Everyone here was allowed to let loose, to relax, and to just be themselves, without fear of drawing attention from the police or the dredges of the genetic gene pool -- humans. And all of this, of course, was put together by one man…

Jorge Cervantes, otherwise known as Poseidon, grinned a bright smile as he strolled through the halls, listening as music pumped through unseen speakers. He was dressed nicely in an expensive black suit, deep, navy blue tie. Passing the windows, the man sighed as he took in the sight of this world, this universe, and all the untapped potential that it held. Truly this would be a place that he could shape to his will, without the constraints of S.U.P.E.R. looming around every corner. It was Eden, and the serpent was ready to play.

Speaking of, the crime boss with the salt-and-pepper hair, the fierce, stormy eyes, and the cocky grin, let his hang slip down, pinching the firm posterior of passing woman in a short dress. She hopped and turned back to face him, her eyes shifting between various mood colors. She smiled flirtatiously before she turned and continued down the hall. Jorge merely adjusted his suit and chuckled; it was good to be the king.

As a paid host for the evening walked by, Jorge reached out, plucking a flute of champagne from a polished silver tray, and took a sip. He sighed at the flavor of the bubbles bursting across his tongue and grinned; he only provided the best for his guests.

Returning to his trek down the hall, he moved passed people and mutants, familiar and unfamiliar faces, and greeted them all like old friends. Tonight was a night of celebration. Not only for the hotel, he could honestly care less about it, but because they were here. After months of work, after aggressive recruitment, the Syndicate was finally gaining a foothold -- and he couldn’t be more pleased. Of course he wouldn’t be dropping the ball any time soon, but, for just one night, the man was going to allow himself the chance to just relax and enjoy; a mindset that he hoped would carry on to the rest of the members of the Syndicate.

After all, come tomorrow, that was when the real work was going to begin. Poseidon could be a taskmaster. He would push his people beyond what they thought was possible for them to achieve, but it would all be for the greater good of their species. They will hate him. They will love him. But in the end, it will be worth it.

One night, though. Tonight. He would provide them with every pleasure, every vice, and every chance to let loose. He was, after all, a kind god.

When you learned a rundown sleep-in had been purchased and reinvented as a majestic hotel, you took notice. When the construction started immediately, you figured the mob was involved. When the revitalization was exquisite with high end details, you knew powerful leaders of organized crime were involved. When all around began talking about it and you learn there’s a grand opening ahead, you get yourself invited.

A few informants had dropped Ved the news. There’d be a festive gathering in the new hotel’s restaurant called the Diamond Lounge. Oh that sure sounded fancy! He’d likely get to pick a few pieces off the drunken sods rummaging about. However, it was the party upstairs he learned of from one specific pillow-talking soldier that really got his interest. There’d be no pickpocketing up there. No, instead it sounded like he could learn about the real action and maybe make an acquaintance or two.

Some lame guise as Rory the down and out actor got him a job with the caterer for extra staff at the restaurant. That got him in during prep and he stashed what he needed then. Everyone was running about and he watched carefully for security. No doubt this place had some big muscle behind every facet of its running so he was bound to hit a guard or careful eyes eventually. And he planned for that too. That would just mean they were really worth talking to! If not, well maybe there would be some brains behind the curtain that would eventually want a job done.

He spent some time as the average height, average weight but charming hanger on with some cougar types and some daddy wolves. That was fine. A drink or two, some playful petting, and oh how nice! A couple watches, some cash, that diamond ring… People were so giving or forgetful or whatever he told them.

A couple set ups, a modified invitation, necking in a closet, three wardrobe changes later, and there he was with a grin on his face, standing at an imposing 6’4”, chit-chatting over champagne in an all-black tux. He’d been sure to check in with the alias Warlock on his doctored invite. If any paid attention, they’d know if they even cared. He did recognize some silhouettes, a couple faces. There were whispered names that anyone who was anyone knew. But this wasn’t the place for fighting, oh no… Any professional knew better than that. Even if she’d tried to kill you yesterday, this hotel was clearly for large-scale enterprise and best behavior.

I mean, even criminals needed a place to get a drink. Right? Right!

The party swam around the scarlet-skinned narcissist. Anyone who knew the pyromancer would aso know that he typically thrived off of events like this. There were plenty of ladies (and gentlemen) to work his charm on... plenty of possible bedfellows to pick-up on. He wouldn't miss-out on an opprotunity like this.

And yet... he sat off to the side of the room, in a cirle of plush chairs, his gold cat-eyes sliding over the room around him. Khalil certainly looked the part of a partygoer-- grey suit, black shirt, thin white tie. But anyone who knew him would notice how (uncharacteristically) reserved he was acting. A taloned hand idly swirled his beverage. Whatever he'd been drinking had already made his eyes watery.

He didn't want to be here-- though Khalil hesitated to confess this, it was true. After the errand with Jay had gone south two nights prior, and an impromptu emergency visit to the Syndicate's resident healer, the last thing Khalil wanted to do was revel in the lifestyle that currently swam around him. But... he had a duty, to be here. Poseidon had personally invited him, which was as good as a firm squeeze on the shoulder and a firm, "You will be going... right?"

So, here he was, wondering what the polite amount of time to stay would be... wondering if he could find someone to help... drown-out the stinging pain that still lingered in his shoulder. The healer hadn't been able to heal the wound in one go. He'd have to go back again later...

Party!

This is what the canine-shifter was talking about. Sure, he was still a very fresh face in the Syndicate, but this was definitely a perk. Especially since his first job went sideways. That...was definitely a pain in the ass. Pun intended. He was wearing a dark green, short sleeved dress-shirt, and a very nice pair of black jeans. If one didn't look twice, they'd think they were dress pants, but they'd be wrong. To top off the ensemble was a pair of dress shoes, and his gym bag slung over his shoulder--hey, he never left home without it.

He had a drink in his hand as he looked around, his keen senses taking in the smells and the sounds; this was a hell of a way to get over the failure of the other day. While some may sulk, Jay planned to party it up.

He saw a familiar red-skinned face--hell, the only face he recognized here so far, actually. Walking up to Khalil, he flashed a grin. "How's the shoulder?" he said, verbally jabbing just a bit. Nothing personal, it was just his coping mechanism.

It was not a well-kept secret that Charlotte Sinclair loved parties. As a woman whose vices could never completely destroy her, she was a fan of indulging in good things, whatever form those happened to be in. It was good to let loose a little. Or a lot. Depending on how much you could take. Charlie’s tolerance was always resetting, but she had the unique ability to never have to worry about going past her limit; she could always jump off the rooftop and start again fresh the next day.

It was ever so wonderful that this was a mutant party.

And Charlie had not shown up alone. This was not a typical state for her, but she was growing up, in a way. Having Gwendolyn White living in her house had caused some things to stir up in her: real feelings. She didn’t think that she had many real feelings left. Everyone tended to leave her, and things always ended poorly, but she’d gone forward with things anyway. It felt right. God, it felt so right.

She’d left her date briefly by the door, figuring that the ever effervescent Gwen would be alright for a few minutes at a party for the organization that they were both members of. Dressed in a revealing black number, the blonde Captain tapped her fingers on the top of the bar as she waited for the drinks that she had ordered. Her eyes scanned the party, picking out a few members of the Syndicate that she recognized. There were others there, too. Potential members, wannabes, random mutants who had heard about the party. Whatever they were there for, Charlie was just glad that the attendance was as good as it was.

And the man in the center of it all, Jorge Cervantes. Who else could pull of something as completely extravagant as the party they were attending? She’d been privy to the hotel plans from early on, and it had been an incredible experience watching the faces of those people living near the place to go from confused to excited about the prospect of new business in the neighbourhood. It was just good that no one would know exactly what the business was that was happening.

Poseidon was making rounds, of course, and Charlie had someone to get back to, so she simply blew him a kiss before picking up the two drinks that had been set on the bar countertop. Her items in hand, Charlie sauntered across the floor, her hips moving a little more than usual. Skirts were far from her usual outfits of black jeans and leather jackets, so it was nice to have a change of pace.

When she reached Gwen again, Charlie held out the drink second for her to take before snaking her newly freed arm around the other woman’s waist. Gwen was dressed well past the 9’s, which was definitely a little much for the scene, but Charlie didn’t mind. She had teased her before they’d left, but standing there, she was glad to be outshined by her. “I hope you know that having you look that incredible is doing nothing for my desire to be social,” she said in a hushed tone near Gwen’s ear.

Oh how she loved a good party. Well, at least these days she loved a good party. In her old life, Agnes couldn’t have imagined something more deplorable. People bumping, moving, nudging into one another in a sweaty mess of loud music and drunken times. Agnes had never been a prude but she had learned early on to appreciate the quiet and gentle moments beyond what her peers sought after in search of a “good time”. Besides, getting drunk inevitable led to bad decisions on her part and that was not something she was willing to partake in often.

That was another life. That was a different Agnes. This Agnes, the one who was a living, breathing, maelstrom of sex and vivacious energy, was all for seeking out the party. While she had spent her youth clinging to the shadows in hopes of disappearing, now all she wanted was the spotlight. Good riddance to her old, terrible self; all that mattered was the here and now.

The invitation had been a surprise. When she had returned home from her day job, she was interested to find the invite amongst her junk mail. It didn’t seem as if she had known anyone who would invite her to this little shindig, but the stamped seal of an S and a trident immediately grabbed her attention. If she remembered correctly, she figured that was attached to the boneheaded vixen she had met before. Was the invitation from her? Someone she knew? Interesting. How could she deny herself?

The party was intriguing, to say the least. Strolling through the hidden elevator doors, she cut a rather elegant figure in a blue dress that hugged her curves like a second skin. The slit along the thighs was just enough to exposing a tantalizing glance of her milky skin, and the color perfectly complimented her already piercing blue eyes. Truly she looked as if she belonged.

Strolling across the floor, a predatory grin upon her lips, she stalked through the mass of people, noting immediately that this was a mutant only party. Her iridescent wings were pressed against her back but she could feel the twitch at the base as they were eager to flutter in excitement. Still, Agnes would control herself as she couldn’t let everyone just how pleased she was to be here.

As she maneuvered through the crowd, making her way towards the bar, some may have figured for her to be part of the entertainment. Her slinky dress, its color, and her eyes, it made it all look at if she were the living embodiment of the hotel’s namesake: the Sapphire. But Agnes didn’t mind the confusion. She wasn’t a hooker (and there were clearly some working as they moved through the crowd), but she had always been one that thrived under attention.

Once at the bar, Agnes purred her drink order, waiting as she tapped her nails gently upon the bar top. Once her Wildflower Honey Punch had been delivered, she winked to the bartender (an adorable blonde with pixie-cut hair) before she turned and sipped her drink.

”Mmm,” she cooed. She definitely liked this place. Stepping away from the bar, a small shake was added to her hips as she moved and swayed to the music that was pouring in through speakers. Of course her actions had unintentionally caused her to bump into another. Eyes opened, ruby lips pulled back into a grin, she eyed the person whom she had nudged again. ”Apologies,” she said tenderly. ”I really should watch where I’m going.”

“No, no,” Warlock replied. “I’m sorry my back got in the way of your hips, may they be free to move however they please.” His accent was sparse but British by the sound of it, Estuary for a well-trained ear. He grinned as he held her sapphire eyes, rather than let his scan her clearly beautiful form. In a room full of snakes, it wasn’t wise to let your gaze wander.

Oh yes this woman was stunning. He’d seen her enter earlier and head to the bar. It was no use to ignore her and now well, best to learn whom she was!

A small nod was given the man he’d been speaking as he completed a turn away and brought his attention fully to the woman. “I should really watch where you’re going,” he nodded. “And I’ll be sure not to get in the way again. Yes, but so that I can warn the others and answer the hopeful tongues who must know… May I know your name?”

Gwen hadn't been to a party since her time in the 21st century. In fact, besides doing some missions and/or working, plus spending time with Charlie, she really hadn't done much socializing. She did some help for Jess's and her sisters shop, of course, but otherwise, her attention was on her duties to the Syndicate & being with Charlie.

Gorgeous, beautiful, amazing Charlie. Gwen wasn't sure how she got so lucky to find a gal like her, but she did. And the fact that Charlie brought her with her as her date made Gwen feel all sorts of tingles. Plus, getting to see Charlie in the black dress made Gwen feel all sorts of happy ways. She was left idling by the door, but Gwen did step into the party room. Although, she did stay next to the door. She didn't really care about anyone else at the party, after all. She didn't even recognize any of the faces except for Jorge Cervantes, Poseidon. Her boss. Charlie's boss. The organizer of the whole thing. Wow.

Gwen herself had probably went a little too far in terms of her dress. She wore an elegant ball gown, one that was long, white & cream, and in her opinion, beautiful.

Charlie had made a hair fun of her for her outfit - it was a hair old fashioned of a dress, after all. Gwen loved the dress, though, and Charlie did seem to find it beautiful - at least, beautiful on her. Surely, others wouldn't be too upset over her outfit. Hopefully, anyways.

Seeing Charlie come back over with her drink, she began to slowly move to meet her. She took the drink and leaned into Charlie as she put her arm around her waist. Her skin tingled as she felt Charlie's breath on her ear, and the compliment itself. "I mean... I cannot even take my eyes off you, I am not sure how I am supposed to interact with others myself." She would whisper in return.

Amber eyes slid over the blond, pupils constricted into slits at the inquiry. He couldn't be too angry with Jay. It wasn't his fault that the mission was a bust. Still, that didn't stop Khalil from giving him a withering glance... it only lingered for a moment before the scarlet-skinned demon poked back at him.

"Oh look, it's my favorite piece of *ss," he crooned, wryly taking a sip of his drink. It was thanks to Khalil that Jay's *ss wasn't perforated in the first place, so Khalil felt was well within his rights to make that remark. He let the glass settle once again, appraising the blond, who seemed to be in good health.

"Shoulder's fine," he assured the blonde, lest there was any genuine note of concern behind his remark, "I haven't made it back to the healer yet, so... yeah." Khalil shrugged, which elicited a twinge, and another swig of his drink.

Parties were great ways to meet people. Even if she used to be timid and quiet, her old self had to admit that sometimes parties could be a blessing. Deep down, despite her insecurities, she always liked to meet new people. Now that she didn’t need to fear anxieties or any of that mess, the young woman was free to revel in the attention, the noise, and the sensation. Of course, one sensation that she didn’t always care for was bumping into another and possibly ruining her drink. Thankfully that wasn’t the case this time.

A smile formed on her ruby lips as she apologized to the frame of the individual whom she had bumped into. Sapphire eyes roamed upward, catching the gaze of the well dressed man who now stood before her. She wasn’t interested in men, at all, but if she had, part of her wondered if this would be an example of “her type”. She guessed she would never know. Still, at least he was someone to talk to, especially since he was paying her attention.

>>“No, no...I’m sorry my back got in the way of your hips, may they be free to move however they please.”

A soft purr rolled out from between her lips. ”Such a sweet thing to say,” she smiled and then followed that with a sip from her drink.

>>“I should really watch where you’re going...And I’ll be sure not to get in the way again. Yes, but so that I can warn the others and answer the hopeful tongues who must know… May I know your name?”

She giggled. She often flirted with men, especially knowing that their advances would get them nowhere, only a trip to a cold and frustrating shower. There was a sadistic pleasure in that knowledge and it was something that she could scarcely allow herself to stop doing unless she really had to. Besides, there was nothing wrong with this; she was merely engaging in friendly conversation.

”Should you now?” she teased. He promised not to get in her way again -- so long as he could warn others to not do the same. A flash of amusement colored her crystalline eyes. ”You might...but a fair trade is a fair trade…” A hand placed upon her hip as she tilted her head, exposing her pale neck. Another smile followed. ”Agnes,” she finally stated. ”Though I hope you won’t warn too many people. I can’t think of a better way to introduce myself to a complete stranger.”

Hoo doggy. Ved idly wondered if there wasn’t a giant robot behind him, flailing its long arms, shouting its warning. Warning! Warning! This woman screamed danger and it wasn’t just the beauty. Fun! He loved these games. If you had to idle with snakes, best to find the queen cobras! You didn’t want them sneaking up behind you, but man if there weren’t some attractive people here…

She purred like a kitten and giggled like a woman of means amused with the attention of courtiers. He smiled back with practiced charm. She was having fun too it seemed; Ved appreciated the playful cantor of her teasing and desire for his name as well.

Agnes. He didn’t know an Agnes but any name could be a disguise or she was a player behind the scenes. Her neck sure looked delectable, the skin clear and almost new.

Ved pulled his head back in false offense. “Oh I shan’t, shan’t,” he shook his head. “Only the ones not befitting the right to talk to you. Should you present your standards and demands I shall endeavor to make the proclamations,” he prostrated, throwing out an arm, bowing his head, and half bowing at the chest. This of course allowed his eyes to scan down the rest of her. Nice.

“The Lady Agnes may call me her Warlock,” he said, giving a bow of his head and softening his smile. “Maybe if you were to be too kind you could introduce me to the host here? I’m afraid I haven’t yet had the honor. Unless perhaps I’m luckier still and it’s you? You are certainly sapphire and grand.”

Favorite piece of ass? Jay nearly choked on his drink at the response, his coughing turning into laughter once he could remotely breathe again. But once he had his composure, he had a retort of his own. "Well, I think the cops got your piece," he said dryly, a smug smirk on his face as his eyes focused on Red.

He hadn't made it back to the healer yet, but he didn't show any concern. Jay wasn't sure if he really didn't care, or if that was just the other mutant's demeanor, like how the canine-shifter hid behind his jokes. He took another sip of his drink, his eyes scanning the room. "Well, you take care of that shoulder, alright?" he said, some genuine feeling behind that last remark as he took yet another swig, then gave a wave of his free hand in farewell as he started to walk away.

The blond didn't really have any destination in mind, just sort of wandering aimlessly until he ran into someone else to talk to. But before too long he was going to need another drink.

Jay's remark earned a chuckle from the dapper young man, and a casual raise of his glass. Anyone who could roll with his antics was alright by Khalil's standards. Jay wished him well. It was nice to see that the criminal lifestyle had yet to sap his concern for other peoples’ wellbeing.

“I will… I appreciate it,” he replied, his tone dropping to a more serious timber. One of these days, the Syndicate would legitimately be the death if him.

“Too bad we don't have workers comp,” he remarked, “Though I suppose a healer is the next best thing.”

It was an excellent turnout so far. The water-powered demigod moved fluidly through the crowd, his charm and his influence following him with every step. He clearly was a man whose very presence demanded attention and focus from anyone who was nearby. Even as he moved through this crowd mixed with thug and insanely smart mutants and their supporters, just a small clearing of his throat turned eyes upon him. No one in the crowd really knew who was throwing this party, and that was probably for the best, but even with that being the case, he still managed to demand attention.

And he so loved it. Of course he said nothing, merely smiled, waved, and shared a flirtatious glance with any man or woman who caught his fancy. As he took a sip of flute of champagne in his hand, his gaze rested at the bar where he found one of his earliest recruits, Charlie, gathering drinks for herself and her date. She had proven herself since she had joined, in more than one arena.

A wink and a kiss blown in his direction and the man smirked, raising his glass towards her. She glided back to her waiting date and the crime boss turned away. He wasn’t the type of man to be jealous, far from it. He just hoped that Charlie kept her head in the game. Things were fun and games for awhile, but when it came down to the work, he wouldn’t accept slip-ups for starry-eyed lovebirds.

But, in the meantime, everything was rosey. He just wanted it to stay that way.

As he continued to survey the crowd, he saw both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Khalil sulked in his corner, which caused Jorge to arch an eyebrow. As useful as the little demon had been, he had been increasingly recluse as of late. While everyone was bound to have their mood swings, it was still enough to grab his attention -- which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He would have to pay extra attention to Khalil in the coming days.

Jay, Gwen, everyone seemed to be adapting pretty nicely to his organization, but there were certainly faces that the man didn’t recognize. For example, the young man talking to the absolute killer in the sapphire dress. Both looked dangerous in more than one way. He would have to introduce himself before the night was out. But there was still mingling to be done. So, slipping away from the bar, Jorge continued to make his rounds, sipping from his champagne glass as the music pouring through the speakers switched to a new song.

”Lovely…” Jorge whispered to himself. He sighed as he carried on. There were still other faces to meet.

It was frustrating to accept how firmly Poseidon held her schedule in his hands. The most she could hope was that there would be fewer bound, maimed, or killed bodies present at his newest shindig.

The Boss of Syndicate had made another investment in real estate, but this time, he was staking a claim on the other side of the Rip. The Sapphire looked gorgeous from everything she had seen, but knowing whose money was responsible for the upscale location soured the whole aesthetic for her.

Still, it was not like she had a choice in the matter; her Boss wanted her there, and he had the kind of leverage that she could not say no to. She even received a new dress in a nice gift box, which meant Poseidon had chosen her outfit of the night for her. Most of the fabric was sheer and see-through, but with what the opaque parts of the dressed covered, it was almost tame compared to the last dress he sent her. Perhaps the man was getting soft in his old age.

Steph checked her phone on the ride in the elevator in instinct, but she was not going to get much out of it: even if the elevator allowed reception, she was no longer in her home universe. The thought bothered her; she hated being out of touch of the babysitter, but she was not about to bring Malia back over the tear in the universe. After Halloween, the girl had was scared of the MROverse. It was hard to blame her. Especially if Poseidon’s claiming turf here, too, she thought to herself.

Taking her first steps into the party, she took a brief moment to appreciate the lovely décor paid for with blood money, before she switched to looking at the attendees. It was noticeable to her that the faces seemed different since her last Syndicate party. Evidently, Poseidon was working hard on recruiting, which was enough to make her shudder. There were some familiar faces, but Stephanie was not there to proactively socialize. If she was approached, she would talk, because the last thing she needed was Poseidon thinking she wasn’t playing by his rules, but she wasn’t going to seek out conversation.

Instead, she sauntered over to the nearest bar, walking gracefully on her stiletto heels, and ordering a Soco Amaretto Lime shot and a glass a Manhattan. It was going to be a long night, after all…