Not all crime happened on a whim. Some did; she had recently recovered rug burns from a panic room to prove she could absolutely rush into a job unprepared. Her current assignment was a special request accepted through the Syndicate Network. It was not the highest paying job, but evidently someone was looking for a thief to snatch a piece from a high-end local gallery.

It was not a particularly expensive piece from her research, but it was from an up-and-coming local artist. A fan, perhaps? Steph did not question why a job request was placed; she took the job, she did the job, and she took her money when it was done.

There was no tight deadline on this one, so Steph was going to learn from mistakes and put in the legwork. The gallery was hosting an exclusive art show and one of her Syndicate contacts got her an invitation. What better way to case a gallery than to show up invited in a little black dress sipping champagne?

No one was going to question her age when she arrived with an official invitation. The whole point was to get her tipsy and in the mood to spend ludacris money on art. She considered using a fake name, but that barely seemed necessary in practice. Her identity was public in the city, even if she was not well known, so it could create complications later. As Silhouette, the whole point was to conceal her identity with her mask or her shadows, so if she was seriously questioned, she had already done something horribly wrong.

Steph was an early arrival, but not the first arrival. That would make her too memorable. She sipped from her champagne flute and casually perused the art on the walls. Most people in the gallery were either invited guests or attendants, but there was a pair she was curious about. Nonchalantly, her steps took her within listening distance of an older man and a younger woman talking. Discussing? Arguing? She was too curious not to eavesdrop, at least a little...

Normally, Shelby wasn't super argumentative. She could take criticism pretty easily and have debates with people about some subjects with little to no issue.

But this... this was her tipping point.

"This is blatant bigotry." She ground out between clenched teeth.

Shelby. Was. Pissed.

"Look, kid, I don't care what you think. I own this place so ultimately I decide who's stuff gets put up and whos doesn't."

Shelby wondered, absently in the back of her mind, if her face was super red or purple right now just from the effort it took not to punch this man in his smug, scruffy face.

He'd just gotten done telling her that unfortunetely due to sudden, unexpected events, she was no longer able to show her work with the rest of the collection. She'd spent weeks preparing new pieces for it, reworking her normal style to that of the new one her older seld had apparently adopted.

She had scrounged to pay the steep fees to have her work hung, scrambled to find an appropriate dress and shoes for the occasion, and only to be told that it was no longer going to happen? No email. No phone call. In person!

She knew that he had dragged his heels on telling her because if he waited long enough he could screw her out of getting her paid fees back, but she hadn't known that he was a bigoted, sexist @#$hole who was going to try to screw her in the worst way possible. At the @#$%ing showing!

"I don't want any bad press coming after me because I hung up some work from one of your types. Us regular folk don't go randomly catching on fire or growing tentacles or whatever. It's bad for business. You should have been honest and upfront with me right at the get-go and I would have told you no before any of this could have happened, you know?"

He had the audacity to look down his nose at her, a slimy smirk on his lips as he swirled a drink glass in one hand and gestured with the other. "Really, you've only got yourself to blame here. You're kind are always trying to sneak into places you don't belong."

She opened her mouth to retort, but it clacked shut again without any words having left. She had to think for a moment as he sipped his drink, confident that there was nothing she could do to him at the moment.

"Fine." She tried to relax her hands out of the fists they had curled into, "I don't want my art here anyway. I'll take it elsewhere. Where is it, so that I can collect it and leave?" She was trying to be level with him. Curt, but calm. She needed the two paintings she had been trying to hang... then she could go home and figure out what to do from there.

"Oh, in storage somewhere. I'll need to dig them out some other time. Not tonight of course. I'll have my assistant call you when they are ready for you to come and get. I trust that you can show yourself out?"

"No, I frankly don't trust that something won't happen to my property while it is here. I want them now before I leave."

"Not going to happen. I won't have the rest of the showing disturbed because of your little tantrum. Do I need to have the police called to escort you off of the premises, Ms. Walters?"

One delicate blonde brow twitched and Shelby weighed her options. Deck him in the face and go to find her paintings, or bid her time and try to find a legal way to work around this snake?

She could come after him later for discrimination, and if he was being serious about the police then that would be a whole other can of worms she didn't wanna deal with right now.

"Fine. I will be waiting for my property to be returned to me undamaged."

His smirk grew and it hurt deep inside that she had to walk away and let him have his moment.

"Good evening, Ms. Walters. I hope we don't meet again."

She showed herself out, dogged by one of the security men that he had hired just to make sure she left quietly.

Once outside she sat on the steps of a nearby, closed coffee shop and let herself have a nice little rage-filled cry while she pondered what to do.

People were the fucking worst.

Listening into the conversation between the pink-haired artist and the host of the gallery was enough to rile up Stephanie’s blood. She was not openly a mutant, but she did have some sense of mutant pride. Her daughter was not old enough to be discrete with her mutation. If someone spoke about her like that, talking about her kind, Steph would be motivated to hit them in the face with a crowbar.

In this instance, watching a young artist dealing with that kind of insulting bigotry, Steph could not make a scene or strike the man. It sucked, but she was here for a job and getting arrested for assault would ruin that, no matter how cathartic it would be.

The woman with the dyed hair finally gave up and ran off, and Steph was torn. She felt for the girl, but she was just another mutant dealing with injustice. There were so many of those, and Steph could feel some catharsis when she robbed a scumbag.

Then again, she had time. This was an event scheduled to run several hours, and she was just casing the place anyway. It was not that complicated a gallery, and she could come back later. Maybe she felt some empathy, or maybe she was quietly remembering what the internet said about girls with dyed hair and the high likelihood of them being queer. Whatever the motivation, Steph silently swiped a very fancy bottle of tequila from behind the bar and exited the gallery.

Thanks to her impulsiveness, she wasted no time in following the exiting artist and spotted her sitting in front of a closed cafe. The poor thing had tears in her eyes, which she did not deserve. Taking a deep breath, Stephanie approached.

The dark-haired young woman offered a sad smile. ”Hey. That was really shitty.” The thief held up the bottle she was holding behind her back and shrugged. ”I was wondering if drinking a stolen… let’s say three-hundred dollar bottle of that asshole’s tequila would make you feel better?” She was not an expert on the stuff, but this was definitely a higher-end bottle, because Stephanie “Silhouette” Graves did not steal the cheap stuff.

Shelby looked up as someone approached, half expecting the same jerk to try and shoo her further away from the gallery. Instead, it was an unfamiliar woman. A very attractive woman. Regardless of how angry she still was, Shelby was still able to recognize that talking to someone while looking like she'd just gone through a bad breakup was probably not the best way to make introductions.

She wiped her cheeks dry and tried to calm herself down a little more. At least, based on the first words out of the woman's mouth, it seemed she had someone on her side. The pink-haired artist eyed the offered bottle warily for just a moment, before the idea that it was one of his stoke the embers of her rage again. She stood suddenly, wobbling slightly on her heels for a moment, and reached for that bottle of booze.

She was going to drink the @#$% out of it just to spite him. Yes, that sounded like a great idea! "You bet your ass it would!" Shelby wasn't a great drinker. Hell, she wasn't even a very good one. She could hold a few shots before turning into a literal example of 'white girl wasted'. That didn't stop her from twisting off the cap from the bottle, lifting it, and guzzling as much as she could before her throat threatened to close up on her.

She quickly passed it back and hunched over, coughing into an elbow for a moment so she could compose herself.

Would being drunk make her less angry, or angrier? Maybe she should have thought of that before...

"That @#$%er deserves more than losing a bottle of alcohol... but that did make me feel a bit better." Smoothing down the new wrinkles in her colorful dress, Shelby straightened back up and offered a pinched smile to the woman.

"...I'm Shelby, Thanks for that. I appreciate it after... " One eye twitched slightly.

"Ah, @#$%. I wish I knew more people in this city so I could round up a posse and storm that jerks place to get my paintings back. I just know he's going to do something to them... bigots like that just love trying to screw over mutants any way they can."

The pink-haired artist was not looking her best, though that was still saying something since she was still cute as a button. It was just sad seeing someone visibly upset, particularly when she was clearly the one in the right. Every situation had two sides, but Steph saw firsthand that the other side here was an asshat.

Whoever this woman was, she had no qualms accepting a bottle of stolen liquor. That was good; the gallery owner deserved to be robbed, and the artist should see that more than anyone else. The last thing Steph wanted to hear was some moral justification trying to take the high ground.

Steph’s new drinking partner pounded the drink back, which did not go well. That was the coughing of an inexperienced drinker, and the thief stifled her own laugh as she accepted the bottle back and took her own swig. It was classy stuff, which meant it was smooth enough to drink more, but still alcoholic enough to burn going down.

The alcohol loosened up Shelby’s anger at the indignation of her evening. She was trying to be friendly in spite of it, which was sweet. ”I’m Stephanie. It’s nice to meet you, even if it’s because of… yeah.”

Shelby lamented not being able to raid the gallery for her art. Steph made a mental note, because her trip into the gallery could accommodate one more piece of art, right? Silhouette did not always get to be the Robin Hood, stealing things to give them to the people who deserved them. It could be nice.

But that was for later. ”People can be awful, especially to mutants. If there’s any justice, he’s choking on a canapé right now,” she suggested, trying to share a consoling smile.

”Being out as a mutant is impressive, even on this side of the Rift.” She changed the subject from her sneaky plans, hoping to focus on making a new friend and brightening Shelby’s evening. ”Mind if I ask what you can do? Or is that too personal?” Steph would feel defensive answering a question like that, but her powers and mutant identity were dangerously linked to a masked art thief.

"Eh... There are always going to be @$sholes. I've dealt with his like before too many times." Even before she was a known mutant, for christ's sake. Having been de-aged she had what, like ten years of bigots, sexists, and racists now? Something like that anyway.

The Artists snorted at Stephanie's joke, very much like the image of him red-faced and horking on his own ridiculously expensive snacks. "If there is a just god, maybe."

She refocused on Stephanie as the feeling of 'oh crap I shouldn't have guzzled that' settled in her stomach and she knew she was in for a bit of a wild adventure. Meh, it was whatever though.

"I grew up in Seattle during a pretty wild time. A lot of active discrimination against those with x-genes all over the place. A lot of my social circles banded together to out ourselves and be visible." She... just wasn't going to mention that at the time she hadn't had a power or even known she was a mutant yet. She liked to assume that she would have outed herself and been just as visible as Olivia had... but there was no real way to know that for sure, was there? It was only by coincidence that when she woke up in New York with no memories of the last handful of years she'd discovered she had outed herself at some point and was kinda-sorta known to a degree.

No sense going back from there!

"Here, I'll show you." Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or she was just past caring at that point in the night. She reached out to try and snag one of Stephanie's hands and reached up to touch the locket hanging around her neck at the same time. There was a little space-themed painting on one side of it, filled with little crude stars and planets. If she managed to grab the hand she had aimed for they would both vanish from the street, leaving behind the locket on the ground in their place.

Inside the space within her painting would visibly look like it had been painted. The crude stars would look even jankier up close, and the planets much less defined and certainly more blobby when they were big and filling the dark space. She'd designed the place to lack any kind of gravity, so getting one's self around would involve kicking and swimming motions, or launching yourself off of the stars and planets. It had been a bit tricky to work out, but in the end, she was satisfied.

"I create visitable spaces within my paintings."

Shelby understood well enough that the world was full of jerks. It was the truth, even if it was a shame. That mentality helped Steph with her criminal mindset. She was not busting up small businesses; she was stealing from rich bastards who could not be ethical at their level of wealth or museums and art galleries that stole from cultures or mistreated artists. If you dealt with people who had an unhealthy amount of privilege, they deserved what they got.

It was the least she could do, because she did sadly doubt their just god had clogged that moron’s throat with an appetizer.

Shelby was a long way from Seattle, but the discrimination was hardly better. Maybe quieter. She contemplated that before her next sip of liquor was interrupted by her hand being taken. Curious, the thief let herself get pulled along, wondering what Shelby planned to show her.

She was not expecting what came next.

Before she realized what was happening, she felt disoriented, with the world warping and fading away around her. When she starting getting her bearings, the first thing she noticed: she was floating.

That was new and, to her knowledge, not tied to her mutation. This was Shelby’s doing, but it was more than that. They were in a space world, but one where the textures reminded her of… well, paint.

Shelby explained, and Steph looked at the place with renewed wonder. Carefully, she let go of Shelby’s hand and felt herself drift every so slowly away, noticing how the way she moved swayed where she went little by little. ”Woah, Shelby. This is… just wow. This is extraordinary.” She turned herself back to face Shelby. ”Seriously, you’re marvel--oop!”

She continued spinning away from Shelby. When she stabilized, she laughed at herself, continuing, ”Marvelous. You’re marvelous.”

The artist blushed a bit at the compliments. It was always pleasing to hear, especially now that she was on the other side of getting them, vs saying them to other mutants.

"Thank you." Oof... floating was, uh, fun when you were well past tipsy. It was almost hard to stabilize herself enough to look around and not accidentally send herself spinning away like Steph had. Shelby held a hand out as an offer to help the woman stay close and somewhat stable.

"I haven't shown many people yet. It's actually still pretty new to me, too." She watched as a small dot of a star slowly ambled past. "That painting I have in the studio is like this too. It's a scenic-" She trailed off suddenly as her eyes landed on another doorway at the other end of the space. She turned to confirm that there was still an exit behind there, hanging on the black wall of the rounded space.

"...Huh?" She turned back to that other exit across the way and then noticed for the first time that there were actually many exit paintings hanging on the walls in the gloomy light. Had.. she just never noticed that before?

"...Okay, so... before I sound insane let me explain something real quick." Was this a new aspect of her power she had failed to notice? Where had the other frames come from? She pointed out the exit frame behind them. "That is how we got in. I touch that painting and we switch to the outside world where my locket dropped." The exit frame she was talking about was a scenic painting of the exact place they had standing beside the stairs.

"Normally there's only one... one way in, one way out. I-I don't know what those other frames are, or why there are in here." She was nervous to a degree, but also a little excited about something new. Maybe this was like what she had been experimenting with by bringing in paintings to the space?

"Wanna come see what they are real quick? I can take you back out first if you'd rather not..."

She waiting for an answer, before paddling herself over to the closest frame. To her surprise, it wasn't something she remembered ever painting. Quite a few of the frames were of paintings and pictures in various mediums that she had never created.

Shelby's mind whirled with various possibilities until she spotted one that she had definitely created.

"My painting!" It was the very one she was upset about not being able to get! Another oil painting of various intricate stars and planets, centered around a colorful swirling nebula, with a celestial woman, naked as the day she was born, formed out of various parts of it.

"Is this an exit now? Or.. an entrance?" So many possibilities. If she touched it would she be able to going into that painting when she was already in another one?

"... This has never happened before." She glanced at Steph, puzzled, and unsure of what to do.

Steph graciously accepted the hand offered to her, pulling herself closer to Shelby, softly bumping into her before settling at a comfortable arm’s length.

Given how things began, it was nice seeing Shelby’s mood turning around. Being yourself with someone and knowing they would support your genuine self was freeing. Steph could see it in the way Shelby smiled.

The smile only faded when something perplexed the artist. Odd… she was the one who made this world, right? Could your own creation surprise you? Maybe that was symbolic of the creative process.

According to the helpful explanation Shelby offered, the frame they came from was also their door out. The power was already impressive, but it evidently did not usually come with more than one frame.

In a weird way, the many frames made her think of that split-second moment when she entered a shadow. She wondered… but she held her tongue for the time being. ”Are you kidding? Let’s check out this cool new quirk of your power!” Enthusiastic mutants supporting mutants.

After some perusing through the most surreal art gallery, one caught Shelby’s eye. ”Your painting?” And then it hit her. ”Oh! THE painting! The one being held hostage.” After such an impressive power reveal, Steph almost forgot about the bigot curator.

Based on the logic Shelby offered, if the last frame was the way out of her locket, then this painting should be…

The art thief grinned, wrapping an arm around Shelby’s shoulder. ”Well, if it’s never happened before, I think if you want to figure things out, the first step is leaping through the rabbit hole.”

The artist grinned right back and hooked an arm around Stephanie's waist securely, while the woman's arm was around her shoulders.

"Well, I'll consider you my Cheshire cat then. Let's see what Wonderland has to offer."

She reached out and touched her fingertips to the frame. With a little pop they shifted from one painting space to another and were instantly surrounded in deep, vibrant color. Planets and stars of all colors and shapes hung lazily in the air, slowly spinning and each with its own celestial ornaments of rock, large gems, and speckled rings. They gathered in density toward the center of the space, collecting in tight groups to form the body of an astronomical being. The body was made up of planets and planetoids alike, the space between filled with brilliantly colorful masses of matter and swirling galaxies. Long hair made of the same matter is planetary rings drifted gently, and her hands were held out around a glowing sun, cupping it like someone would cup a gathering of water.

Shelby didn't have much of a reaction to seeing it all since she had been in her own painting many times while working on it. Instead, she found herself watching Stephanies face to witness her first reaction.

"This is my interpretation of Astraea, the Greek Goddess of Justice, innocence, and purity..."

Her voice echoed out into the void, and upon 'hearing' it, the giant Goddess turned her head to face them and offered a gentle smile. A small ring of moons and stars twirled around her head like a halo.

It took Shelby a moment, but she spotted the dozens upon dozens of frames hidden along the dark boards of the space. Since she had been able to successfully move from one painting to the other, which was just absolutely the neatest, she also wondered if there would be alternate exits. Would one of the frames be a portal out into the storage area of the art shop?

Sometimes it took time to get acclimated to people, but occasionally, you find someone you are instantly on the same page with. With Shelby not even hesitating to slip an arm around her and jump forward with both feet, Steph was beginning to think this was a girl worth knowing better. Maybe she should thank that jackass of a gallery curator as they slipped into Wonderland.

Wonderland, as it turned out, was in space. Gorgeous, vibrant space to float through and admire. Hovering back for a bit of distance and a shift in perspective, Stephanie saw the grand picture Shelby painted. All these unique, striking elements coalescing into the form of a woman—a celestial, awe-inspiring woman.

Grinning from ear to ear, Stephanie propelled herself forward through the space toward Shelby. She collided into the artist from behind and wrapping her arms around Shelby’s waist, leaving them both spinning together in the colorful void. ”Shelby, this is amazing. Your artistic vision is just brilliant and that scumbag’s gallery doesn’t deserve your goddess.” The peaceful goddess smiled warmly; she was too innocent to condone Stephanie’s tone, but the thief was no goddess of purity.

Justice, though…

The liquor had the mood light and Stephanie may have stayed noticeably closer to Shelby as they floated toward the framed paintings at the edges of this painted universe. ”I’ve always been a photographer, but I capture beauty. You really create it, Shelb. And to have a power that spins a web of worlds you’ve painted.” Though there was one frame Stephanie spotted that contained… well, not a painting.

”Hey… did you ever paint a hyper-realistic portrayal of an art gallery storage room… or is this another exit?”

After just a fiasco earlier in the night, she really couldn't describe how welcome the feeling of warm arms around her waist was. It also helped that she was at least 5% alcohol after guzzling quite a bit back there. Her hands drifted down to Steph's arms and crossed over them, soaking in the warmth while she could.

"I knoooow! I mean, not to sound super into myself or anything, but @#$%in look at this? Who is that jagoff to make me feel subpar? His toupee is subpar!"

The artist giggled, reaching out to snag a passing beachball sized planet like a... well, like a beach ball. The simulated atmosphere in oils continued to swirl beneath her hands undisturbed. "You're into photography? I'd love to see you sometime! Er, not in a weird way. I like seeing other people's perspectives on things and photos are a great way to see how they see the world." Was she blushing? Yes. It was impossible not to blush while saying potentially embarrassing things with a beautiful woman's arms around you.

Steph pointed out the very frame she had been looking for. "Ahh! You found it! I could kiss you right now!"

She twirled around, letting the planet she had been holding spin away into space, and grabbed for Steph's hands.

"I absolutely did not paint anything of the sort, which means that frame is a portal into that sleaze bag's storage room!" Gleefully, she was already tipsy-plotting how she was gonna get in, snatch up her stuff, and get out... but stumbled a bit over her own planning when she remembered she wasn't exactly alone. Regardless of the gallery owner being a dick, not everyone wanted to be party to trespassing or breaking and entering.

"...Wanna help me get my paintings back? It's okay if you don't. No pressure!"

Teasing the bigot’s toupee forced a snort out of Steph. It was unexpected and petty and Steph was one-hundred percent here for it. The guy deserved it. Him and his dumb hairpiece.

Before Steph could thank Shelby’s interest in her own kind of art, the frame shifted the narrative. Evidently, the possibility of this escape window existing occurred to the lovely young artist. Discovering it was even worth a very enticing off the cuff offer.

Not only was this frame a portal into the real world, it led to the hidden back room of the art gallery. The place Stephanie was planning to get to tonight. Not only that, Shelby was asking the right question to the right person. She was a tipsy woman wronged! Now the question was: was she wronged enough to see the gray morality of what Steph wanted to offer?

”Absolutely, and you should absolutely consider that whole ‘I could kiss you idea,’ she suggested playfully, but the mischief in glinted in her eyes. ”But why stop there?” Steph met her eyes with a winning grin. ”People like this guy have no respect for artists, and they damn sure have no respect for mutants. Elite assholes like this think they’re untouchable.”

Stephanie was taking a chance here. If Shelby was morally disgusted, Steph never gave away her last name. She could get out of dodge and lay low. But they were on the same wavelength so far, right? ”This guy makes his money with paintings like yours. I.. may have had some plans of my own tonight. I genuinely had no plans to bring you into this, but if you really want to get back at him… would you be interested in taking part in your very first art heist?” Well. She assumed.

The pinkette's eyes dipped to Stephs lips at the offer without her consciously even having to think about it. Steal a liplock from a cutie who had helped her get out of her funk and given her alcohol? Hadn't been on the table before... but now? She swallowed a bit thickly. The night was turning in a really pleasant direction.

Steph explained a bit more and all it did was bolster the growing fire within her breast. Get her work back and maybe ruin the owner's financial future as well? "Hell yes." She pumped a lacquered fist in the air, which sent her spinning off to the side slightly, and struggled to get her balance back in simulated zero gravity.

"Count me in! I've been in there before so I know where all the higher-priced art is kept." After gliding herself back over, she pulled herself back in as close as Steph had been to her before and grinned cheekily right back. "All of the work is insured, anyway, so it isn't like we're screwing anyone out of a paycheck... other than Bradley that is." The shop owner, who without paintings to sell wouldn't be getting his big fat 50% cut of sales.

"Also, I've reconsidered. Pardon my french." And she promptly pulled herself closer for a deep kiss, hoping it wasn't too terribly forward.

Despite a reputation as a loner, Stephanie did work jobs with other thieves occasionally. In those situations, everyone used her codename and she worked alongside career professionals. Despite her youth, she sought partners who would not slow her down. Inviting a crime-virgin who knew her first name was a terrible idea, but it did not feel wrong. Sometimes terrible ideas offered interesting results, she reminded herself!

…Did this gallery have a panic room?

Fortunately, Shelby wasted no time at all jumping on board with the plan. Her enthusiasm almost sent her spinning, so Stephanie quickly grabbed the artist by her sides to keep her stable (or at least split some momentum.)

Shelby was excitable, but she offered more scouting details than Steph had collected so far. Not slowing things down yet at all, and Shelby doubled down in picking up the pace and keeping Steph on her toes.

Pulled into a kiss, the tipsy thief only needed half a second to melt. Soft lips, swirling tongues, and… they had a thing to do. An important thing. Right! Crime!

”Your French is.. way, way welcome. In fact, let’s maybe keep that in mind when we make our grand getaway.” Stephanie reached down into the neckline of her dress, tugging out her domino mask and a spare opaque black cloth mask. It paid to keep one of those on hand. ”Hide your face, just to be safe. And, um, if I have to use certain… talents of my own, try not to freak out until we’re long gone.”

Stephanie drifted herself toward the frame, gesturing toward their escape. ”Alright. Your masterpiece, your revenge, your lead, Shelb.” Steph prepared herself to move quick and quiet once they made it to the other side, ignoring the tingling sensation lingering on her lips.