Zephyr paced around his penthouse suite in a bored manner. He had been in New York for a week and a half and despite his somewhat brutal questioning he still hadn’t been able to get any information on potential employers. He had however managed to increase his reputation to the point where the local street trash took off running if they saw someone matching his description. Simon chuckled as he recalled his brief skirmishes with gang dubbed “Pyros”.

With a name like Pyro one would imagine that this particular gang had some affinity for fire, and this was true. At least a fourth of the members had somehow managed to get their hands on some type of flame thrower or made one themselves. If you thought about it such weapons really were more reliable than bullets. An opponent can get back up if the bullet fails to hit one of the body’s vital points, a flamethrower however, can hit an opponent anywhere and be almost guaranteed to do devastating damage that will not only keep an opponent down, but likely cripple them for life, if not completely strip them of it.

These weapons had even managed to cause Simon some trouble, forcing the elemental to take flight or summon hurricane force winds multiple times when he became surrounded in the shadowed labyrinth that served as home for the lowest of the low.

One might wonder how simple bursts of flame could cause any inconvenience to one who could manipulate the constant zephyr’s that roamed the planets surface or summon winds with enough force to slice solid steel with ease. Well my friends allow me to enlighten you, for you see the problem is the simple fact that hot air rises. Whenever a wielder of flame spotted the wandering elemental they would unleash a burst of fire in his direction, this flame swiftly heated the surrounding air and caused it rise, so if Simon were to summon any of the razor winds he was so found of using they would be forced to rise above their target.

This wasn’t a terribly powerful defense as Simon quickly discovered, all that was needed was for him to shift his aim a few degrees lower than usual and opponent could be sliced in half, or he could simply buffet the flames with slightly stronger blast of wind. Still such a weakness in his abilities disturbed him, for truly his mutation was the only thing he relied to survive and so he had sought to counter this hole in his otherwise impenetrable armour.

Unfortunately this meant he’d had to spend some time at the library since physics was a subject he detested most vehemently due to the constant formulas and calculations the subject required. This lack of enthusiasm did not help him in his search and he spent more time then he would have liked wandering the vast catacombs of knowledge, getting lost at least twice. Eventually though Simon’s search was rewarded and he found the answers he had been seeking. The conclusion had astounded him, for not only had it taught him how defend against the fires with, theoretically, little effort. It could potentially give him control over the very flames that attacked him, again in theory.

Fire requires oxygen to exist; this is a simple and well known fact. Another well known fact is that oxygen makes up roughly 20.95% of the air we breathe; it is this oxygen fire uses to sustain itself when it comes into being. The element that Simon happened to have control over was air, ergo he also had control over the oxygen in the air, in theory anyway.

With this new knowledge still bounding over the expanse of his consciousness Simon had dutifully returned his books to their allocated shelves before exiting the building as swiftly as possible, even going as far as to create an undercurrent of wind beneath his feet to speed his departure to the concrete jungle that was called a city.

Simon had then spent the next two days practicing his skill at manipulating the element known as oxygen. Using a Zippo lighter he had bought off the street for $10 Simon had perched himself on the roof of his hotel and focused all his energies on increasing the size of the flame. There had been no success at first, Simon had become too use to simply summoning the wind in its entirety and bending all its composite elements to his will. Trying to separate the single element of oxygen from the entire spectrum of gases had been no mean task; it had taken him two hours just to identify the required element in the chaotic swirling winds that seemed determined to thwart him. He had preserved though, searching the swirling streams of nitrogen and other trace gases for the rare vein of oxygen that made all life on earth possible. Upon discovery of the required gas Simon had to proceed with utmost care, if he used too much force his prize would slip out of his grasp like a bar of soap, too little and it would return to swirling winds that surrounded him. He had to gently coax the vaporous substance to flow to his will, not that of natures; to surge up not down, left instead of right. He was forcing himself to relearn his element after using it as his own for several years. It had not been a pleasant task.

Reclining more fully into the leather couch in his suite Simon extracted the Zippo lighter from his back pocket and conjured a tiny flame into existence. ‘The reward was well worth the price’ the elemental assured himself as he fixed his azure gaze upon the minute flickering energy. A moment later the flame extended, spiraling through the air like a glorious ribbon as Simon summoned the nearby oxygen and forced it to a path of his design, a path the vibrant flames eagerly followed. The fires aerial dance continued for a few minutes as Simon entertained himself by trying to create increasingly tight and complex patters, the most difficult form he had found was trying to create a spherical net or grid whose holes measured roughly two centimeters in height and width; the amount of concentration required to maneuver such thin trails of oxygen through these gaps without having the flames collapse in on themselves was intense and Simon soon found himself developing a migraine. Sighing wearily the elemental shut off his lighter and the flaming sphere died almost instantly as the source of its fuel was cut off.

Taking a moment just to breathe Simon quickly realized that there was precious little oxygen left in his suite. Rising swiftly to he left the couch and moved through the glass doors that led out to his balcony and filled his lungs to the brim, enjoying the taste of the fresh air and the blue sky overhead. The fumes from the streets did not reach to this devastating height, one of the main reasons he had selected this building to serve as his ‘home base’ as it were. There was also the added fact that very few people would be capable of spotting him if he chose to take an aerial excursion, as he did now.

Focusing his mind the elemental called upon the natural energies in the air and bent them to his will. A raging torrent of wind erupted underneath the young man and lifted him easily over the balconies railing and into the unlimited sky above.

“Is this truly necessary?”

“You were the one asking for assistance”[/color] Dr. Ingham’s voice crackled through the speakers set in the labs ceiling, “this is merely a safety precaution, Mr. Antonescu does not wish for you to be injured unnecessarily”[/color]

Zephyr rolled his eyes and allowed the technicians to put the finishing touches on the protective suit they had been fitting to his form for the past ten minutes. The suit in question covered the elemental from head to toe, even going so far as to completely mask his face from the outside world. Supposedly constructed from some highly advanced polymer the suit was meant to defend it wearer from all common projectiles. Despite the materials used in its construction though the pitch black suit was surprisingly heavy. Simon was almost tempted to think that Dakota was hiding somewhere in the vicinity, manipulating the gravity so as to make his training more strenuous. A quick scan of the desolate training area however revealed that the technicians were the only ones within 30 feet of the elemental.

With a final pneumatic hiss the techs stepped away from Zephyr and admired their handiwork, some nodding approvingly while others circled his form and critically inspected the suit for any obvious flaws. When none were immediately found the men swiftly withdrew from the dome shaped room leaving Simon completely alone.

Letting out a relieved sigh Zephyr rolled his neck and stretched his limbs in order to warm up his muscles. No mean feat when you consider that the elemental barely weighed 120lbs while the suit itself seemed to weigh 400lbs. Still Simon was able to extract a satisfying crack from most of his joints as he slowly contorted himself before standing up to his full height once more.

As was previously stated the British Kabal member was in a dome shaped room whose height and diameter measured roughly 60 meters in length. The room, as with most of the lab, was painted a bright white colour that reminded Simon of hospitals and other sterile areas. Apart from the elemental himself the room was completely bare, although various cracks and crevices located in the ceiling and floor indicated that other equipment could be brought to the training area if required.

As he finished examining his surroundings Zephyr, with difficulty, turned his head to face an opaque glass window set into the wall of the dome some thirty feet away “So what happens now?” the elemental asked with just a hint of curisoity in his usual monotone. Although his voice wouldn’t physically carry to the other end of the dome Zephyr’s question was picked up by a series of miniature microphones dispersed throughout the area and a few moments later Dr. Inghams usual disinterested tone reverberated around the enclosure. “Now we proceed with the first phase of testing, standstill”[/color]

The speaker cut off once more and then all hell seemed to let loose; the entire structure began vibrating at an extreme rate and the earth growled like a monstrous beast. Zephyr was forced to one knee in order to keep his balance and watched in a fascinated sort of panic as the domes ceiling slowly began to split open to reveal, not the clear blue sky outside, but a pitch black space as dark as the inky void of space.

As the hatch finally opened to its full extension Zephyr was allowed a brief moments respite to regain his feet and shoot the glass window a mild glare which went unanswered. The moment’s peace did not last long though and soon the grinding of gears and humming of electricity reverberated throughout the building. Directing his gaze back to the hollow in the ceiling Simon watched as sleek metallic cylinder five times the size of a construction pillar descended into the domes hollow via a complex mechanical arm. The object descended until it was held two feet above the ground and was angled parallel to the floor. Gradually the cylinder rotated until it faced the elemental and it was at this point that Simon realized the cylinder was in fact a cannon.

Narrowing his eyes dangerously, Zephyr spared a quick glance towards the opaque screen before directing his attention back to his immediate problem. He didn’t know exactly what the good doctor was planning but Simon had no intention of becoming a guinea pig for some new weapon of destruction. Raising his arm with rather more difficulty then he was used to the elemental made a sluggish slicing motion with his right arm, in the blink of an eye the air in front of the elemental took on a force and shape similar to that of a blade and hurtled towards the strange machine. However instead of slicing cleanly through the metal as Zephyr had expected the wind blade merely dissipated upon contact.


'That's not good’

Little did Simon know that both the canon and its arm had been constructed from an adamantium alloy, thereby making it almost impervious to damage. The good doctor Ingham knew this very well but wasn’t about to waste his time curing Zephyr of his confusion, “Stage one complete, target has failed to damage either main canon or rotary arm”[/color] The off hand tone the doctor used suggested that he had his mind focused on other things, rather Zephyr apparently hazardous situation, “Moving to stage two.”[/color]

The whirring of electricity was heard once again as the canon began to vibrate violently with the onslaught of power. Taking the initiative Simon leapt back and summoned a gale to carry him to the back of the room, only to move about two feet before the added weight of his suit brought him crashing down again. A scowl developed on Zephyrs otherwise blank features as he cursed the suit that was supposedly meant to keep him alive, ‘If I get out of this in one piece the good doctor and I are going to have a little a chat’ he silently promised himself.

As the hum of electricity mounted Zephyr forced himself to wait for the right moment; considering the added weight of the suit he wouldn’t be able to zip across the battle ground like he usually did. Instead the elemental would be forced to wait until the last moment and then attempt to throw himself out of harms way. He didn’t like this plan of action but at the moment he didn’t have much of a choice

After waiting 10 mind numbing seconds the whirl of electricity inside the canon built itself into a climax that was impossible to mistake. Narrowing his eyes in concentration Simon willed every fibre of his being to move as he threw himself to the side, aided in no small way by a sudden gale of immense strength that he had slowly been building up during his waiting game. As Zephyr tossed his body out of harms his left foot was clipped by something decidedly solid and moving at high speeds. The mercenary’s entire body spun in mid air as a result of this slight collision and he ended up flat on his stomach with his back facing the canon. This meant that Simon was now facing the projecting that had very nearly crushed him and he was somewhat surprised by what he saw.

It was a sphere, a giant sphere molded from what looked to be solid steel. The ball was roughly five meters in diameter, more than twice the elementals height and judging by the crater it had formed in the dome its velocity was decidedly lethal. If Zephyr had been hit full on he’d be no more than bloody paste on the wall, ‘Definitely having a few words’ Simon envisioned Ingham spread eagled against the wall of a skyscraper, held in place by winds so vicious the man had difficulty taking in breath. It was a satisfying vision and the elemental savoured it for all of five seconds.

“Recalibrating main arm”[/color] the doctors weary voice sliced through Simons little daydream as the young man realized with a jolt that the canon was turning to face him once more. ‘Not good’

“Loading secondary missile”[/color]

A loud “thunk” was heard as another steel sphere slid into the canon chamber and Simon made no attempt to disguise his haste as he scrambled on the floor. The elemental wasn’t use to being chained down like this; normally he’d zip through the air riding the air currents from one to spot to the next while his assailant desperately tried to keep up with him. In his current condition though he would require at least ten seconds to build up the necessary speed and that was ten seconds he didn’t have.

‘No choice then’

Realizing how pointless it was to continue evading the deadly projectiles Zephyr sluggishly drew himself up to his feet and turned to face the looming canon. Taking a deep breath the elemental raised his arms and prepared another salvo of wind. Slamming his hands towards the metallic floor Simon jumped and allowed the raging air currents to carry him back 20ft. Now a decent distance from looming barrel Zephyr stood tall and faced the black void of the gun chamber with an icy determination. He would not be killed here. He refused to be killed here.

Lifting both arms parallel to the floor Simon’s eyes narrowed to slits as he reached into the source of his gift, digging into the deepest recesses he could find. A raging torrent of air surged forth from the elementals outstretched hands, screaming as it crossed the distance to the canon in mere seconds. ‘Too wild’ he admonished himself as he tried to bring the racing air under his control. He had to tighten the winds range, restrict it to a single path and therefore maximize its effectiveness. He would show the good doctor that he was not one to be trifled with, and then they would have their little “chat”.

Gradually the howling wind lost its voice as it came to heel under the elementals sheer will. The torrent took on a defined form and due to the debris caused by the first shot the new winds nature was revealed to the ordinary eye as twin cyclones. The vortices originated at both of Zephyr upraised palms before stretching out horizontally towards the mouth of the cannon. The combined forces of the twin cyclones would have been enough to stop bullets and demolish ordinary buildings with ease. In the lab though all they managed to was loosen the mechanical arms grip cannon causing it to shake somewhat.

Behind the opaque glass window Dr. Ingham glanced up from the scientific readout he was examining and spared a look at the determined elemental. Rolling his eyes the good doctor returned to his reading material before blindly entering the firing codes.

The whirring of the main canon built itself up into a climax once more as it gathered the necessary power for the task. As the energy reached it peak the second projectile erupted from the barrel with almost unbelievable speed. The sphere struck the raging cyclones and its progress was hindered significantly. However the elementals effort was not enough to bring the oversized missile to a complete halt and he was struck full on by the solid adamantium sphere and slammed into the domes reinforced walls.

Everything went blissfully black.

--

“How… … not possible…. stable temperature”

“… Zephyr… you hear….”[/color]

The elemental stirred at the sound of his alias and struggled to shake the weariness that clouded his hearing.

“…not responding…medical bay…treatment…”[/color]

Zephyr felt a pair of arms clasp hold of his shoulders and he forcefully swept the weariness from his mind as his azure eyes abruptly snapped open, causing whoever had grabbed hold of him to jump back in surprise.

The elemental lay in a crumpled heap with his back leaning against a newly formed crater in the training areas otherwise immaculate walls. His head was throbbing and as he reached up a hand to console his aching cranium a burning pain spiked in his chest causing him to double over in a hiss of pain. Zephyr wasn’t use to physical pain, normally his mutation rendered any physical attacks null and void and if he ever did come up against something that was capable of penetrating his defenses the ability of flight meant that he could always make a swift retreat.

“Hmm I was afraid of this, Mr. Zephyr please stay still”

The elemental in question snapped his neck towards the source of the voice and was greeted with the sight of a thin figure in a spotless white coat, just another of the many faceless individuals that worked in the labs.

The unnamed man leaned down next to the collapsed mutant and slowly removed the obsidian suit that had been meant to protect him. Zephyr remained completely motionless as he realised that the man needed to remove the suit to check his vitals.

After much poking and prodding the medic at last stood up once more and glanced down at Zephyr’s prone form with a kind smile, “It seems as though your bones managed to withstand the collision. It would appear that the suit managed to prevent them from becoming broken or even bruised, however I would advise that you come down to the medical bay for a more thorough exam-”[/color]

“Reload the canon” Simons hollow voice drifted up from his position on the floor.

“I’m sorry?”[/color] the medics voice held a tone of confusion as he processed the elementals request.

“Reload the bloody canon” Simons tone held a hint of steel as he struggled to pull himself up to his feet; his head was still slightly dizzy and he was having a little trouble keeping his balance.

“Mr. Zephyr I’m not sure that entirely wise-”[/color]

Zephyr narrowed his eyes at the medic and summoned a slight gust of wind, the man immediately went into silence which Simon allowed to drag out as he slowly sealed himself within the obsidian suit once more. “Must I repeat myself a third time? I am telling you to reload the canon. You have already stated that the suit will prevent any serious damage so I fail to see the problem.”

For a moment the medic looked as though he might challenge the mutant’s decision, however when the wind picked up the man wisely decided to keep his lips sealed and left the room along with his fellows.

As the last white coat exited the area Zephyr allowed a grimace of pain to grace his features as he placed a palm on his chest. Despite what the man had said it certainly felt as though a few of his ribs had been damaged, however he was determined to continue working, progress wouldn’t be achieved by laying in the medical bay after all.

Taking a moment to observe his surroundings for the first time since he regained consciousness Simon dryly noted that the deepest part of the second crater contained the impression of a human figure, ‘Just how fast was that thing moving’ he wondered idly as he continued to glance about the room, as he did so his eyes landed on the second sphere and he arched an eyebrow in surprise, ‘What’s this?’ he wondered aloud as he approached the missile. The cause for Zephyrs sudden fascination was the fact that the sphere seemed to have developed a layer of frost, albeit a thin one.

Deliberately pitching his voice so that it carry clearly to the microphones planted inside the dome Simon voiced his query “Doctor Ingham, could you explain this?”

There was silence for a few minutes and Zephyr’s eyes narrowed as he thought that the doctor had just ignored him, “Doctor?’

A screech of static met the elementals ears and he cast an annoyed glance at the still opaque screen of glass that hid the doctor from view, “I am sorry Mr. Zephyr but Dr. Ingham left shortly after you lost consciousness”[/color] Simons features quickly darkened and the new voice continued in a hurried tone, “H-However I can tell you that the likely cause of the frost on the second missile was due to a process known as heat sink; you see I believe your winds reached such speeds that they stripped the sphere of the little natural heat it had and subsequently lowered it’s overall temperature to slightly below that of freezing”[/color]

”Fascinating” Simon muttered to himself as he turned away from the glass screen and stared at the frozen orb, “fire and ice; air truly is a versatile element.” pacing back towards the centre of the dome Zephyr faced the now silent canon and a look of determination settled on his features, “Ready when you are” he announced to the empty room.

--

Some time later…

Zephyr stood once again in the white walled dome that had become his personal training area. With his hands by his sides and legs slightly bent the elemental stared down the gently pulsing canon with a bored looked etched onto his features. He had long since memorized the canons little quirks and knew that it would be incapable of firing for at least another two minutes. There was nothing to be worried about. This session was just like any of the countless others he had experienced.

No, that wasn’t quite right; there was one small difference here, although in the elementals mind it wasn’t even worth mentioning. All he’d done was shed the protective obsidian suit. No big deal really despite what the technicians had claimed; it had taken Simon at least two days to track down and convince the entire staff the thing wasn’t needed anymore. The information they’d obtained had already shown an immense jump in the power of his winds and all the data supported the fact that the elemental should now be at the point where he could halt the missiles without trouble. Still though it had taken him two days to make the men see reason, ‘I must be getting soft’ he silently berated himself, ‘there was a time when I would have simply decapitated the fools for arguing with me…maybe I should head back to Europe, revive my killing insti-’

The canons pulsing suddenly reached its climax and gave a final shout as it ejected its contents. Zephyr was forcefully pulled back to the present by the crack of sound, his eyes widened and everything seemed to slow down as he saw the silver sphere rocket towards him at lethal speeds. The elemental didn’t even have time to curse as the oversized bullet entered his personal space and, abruptly, stopped.

Zephyr shoulders shook slightly as he inhaled deeply, his eyes focused on the giant orb not ten inches from his nose. The projectile was still spinning even though it was still in contact with the column of wind he had managed to craft into a swirling vortex at the last second. As the elemental continued to watch the orbs rotations suddenly lost speed and a dull layer of ice began to coat its surface, then the missile finally came to grips with what was happening and bowed to law of physics; shooting backwards as Zephyr’s winds carried it to the cannon and slammed it back to where it had started.

For the next few moments the elemental simply continued to stare at the darkened barrel of the canon as his mind worked itself around this near death experience. Once his consciousness had come to grips with the fact that he was still alive though an air of determined calm settled about his person. Simon was something of a perfectionist when it came to his abilities and in his mind he still had a long way to go before he could boast both fire and ice to his inventory of skills.

”Reload the canon”

“What to do?”

Leaning with crossed arms upon the railing of his balcony Simon stared blankly across the panorama of the bustling city below him. Dressed only in a pair of expensive gray jeans and a towel which was draped over his shoulder the elementals hair was still fairly soaked from the shower he had taken just minutes before and stray runnels of water continued to make their down his face and neck.

The camps had certainly been an experience he reflected, and for many they had left a vast array of physical and emotional scars which time could only hope to heal. In Zephyr’s case though his thoughts towards the whole event could be summed up in a single word; dull. Although the majority of the mutant population in the States had either been imprisoned or forced underground the merc’s connections had enabled him to avoid such hassle, in fact it could be said that he had made a mockery of others plight by assuming the role of a human guard within one of the concentration camps themselves and done absolutely nothing to help them. Though to be fair he had never actively sought out to harm them either, the only forms of violence he had participated in were those his role required of him to remain above suspicion. He had not tortured, crippled or raped any of his fellow kind though the opportunity had always been present.

Shaking his still damp head Zephyr focused his mind, such thoughts were neither here nor there, the registration act had been over turned, the camps torn down and the extremist politicians who had originally presented their proposal for mass genocide were either out of power, dead or missing. Everything had gone back to normal.

Yeah right.

Human-mutant relations were worse than ever; with mutants breeding new found distrust or hatred for the humans who had so willingly imprisoned while the humans themselves found new reason to fear their evolutionary superiors in light of the battle that took place right before the bill was overturned. The media could preach all it wanted and lionize the destruction of the registration bill as a major step towards peace but the harsh reality was that it had been one step forwards and three steps back. The only good thing which arose out of this mess was that business was better than ever; with the multitude of angry and resentful mutants currently wandering the streets crime had taken a significant rise, forcing the local authorities to spread themselves thin, something his potential employers were taking advantage of …

The elementals outdoor musings were interruptedly briefly as a small shadow flickered over his form. Turning his azure gaze skywards Zephyr noted with some annoyance a rather obese pigeon gliding through the air only a few feet away from him. Ever since his scuffle with the red haired twins some time ago the elemental had developed what could best be described as animosity towards these flying vermin. The lousy rats had reduced one of his favourite sets of clothes to nothing more than a miserable manure heap. He had never heard back from the dry cleaners as to whether his attire was salvageable or not but in any case the sight of the pigeon had put him in a vindictive mood.

Grabbing hold of the surrounding air Zephyr raised a clenched fist towards the oblivious bird and swiftly released gesture, allowing his fingers to stretch out. Although such an action was completely unnecessary in order for him to utilize his abilities they were part of a bad habit the elemental had developed when he had first started gaining control of his powers and he had yet to break from it completely.

Abruptly the pigeon began flailed in mid air as it found itself caught in a vacuum, depriving it of oxygen and rendering its wings useless as they flapped frantically in the empty void. As the once flying vermin slowly plummeted back to earth though Zephyr brows furrowed as he watched the birds body suddenly begin to spasm violently before it dropped out of sight accompanied moments later by a strange popping noise.

Understandably curious as to the nature of this foreign sound the merc glanced down and noted with some mild amusement that the windows of the room directly below his own had taken on a delightful crimson colour with an accompanying feather motif. His irritating neighbors would no doubt be completely clueless as to what had happened and considering their inclinations to play some of the most obnoxious country music he’d ever heard at 2:00am in the morning the elemental had no intention of enlightening them.

Petty revenge aside though he had just witnessed a rather fascinating development; he hadn’t considered the possibilities of depressurizing living creatures before. After all most people went their entire lives without experiencing any drastic change in atmospheric pressure, yet that was what made it so intriguing. Over the course of the earth’s lifetime human beings, and in fact all creatures, had come to adapt to the standard pressure of their respective habitats and while most could survive some subtle changes in pressure every creature had their limits. This was one of the reasons airplane cabins were pressurized, at a certain altitude the lack of pressure not only meant low levels of oxygen; it also caused all other gases and fluids to expand, and if the expired pigeon was any indication, this could have rather dire consequences indeed.

Turning the possibilities over in his mind Zephyr considered the opposite side of the coin; what would happen if he increased the atmospheric pressure? Manipulated the uncountable number of air particles to converge and press inwards on a certain target. How much would it take for him to rupture organs, crush bones or to simply render an individual immobile? A subtle grin worked its way onto the merc’s features as a new image came to mind; Star Wars had always ranked among his top list of movies, perhaps he would soon be able to mimic one of his favorite characters…

Without the ridiculous breathing apparatus of course.

It was at that precise moment in time that the universally recognized Star War’s theme tune began playing from inside the elementals apartment. Pushing himself away from the railing Zephyr walked with swift but light footsteps into the well air conditioned room, toweling off his hair while he did so. Upon reaching the ceramic kitchen counter he snapped up the vibrating onyx cell phone and answered the call.

“Hello?”

…

“Speaking.”

…

“How many?”

…

“Alright.”

…

“Half now and the rest upon completion, if you want to meet it will be somewhere public.”

…

“I’ll be waiting.”

Ending the call Simon placed the phone back on the counter and wandered absently over to the living area and collapsed into a dark leather chair. The transaction would likely take an hour or so before it registered on the bank systems so he had time to kill until he found out if his employer was serious or not. Glancing around the elementals eyes lighted upon the Telegraph newspaper lying he’d picked up the day before and leaned over to retrieve it. Although he had already read most of the articles yesterday he had yet to complete the crossword though that likely wouldn’t take long. Turning to the appropriate page the merc set his thoughts to the puzzle and began reading the clues, yet even as he did his mind had already begun to wander back a previous thread; namely air pressure. Certainly such a tool had potential but…

Where to begin? That was the question. It would have to start as something small, control was the key; a weapon you didn’t know how to use was useless. Casting his gaze around the room Simon sought out a suitable target, furniture was out of the question for the moment, as was anything made out of glass or similarly fragile material. He needed something small yet sturdy, something that preferably wouldn’t make a mess if it were crushed or dropped. His aqua blue eyes wandered to the coffee table once more and focused on the simple mechanical pencil that had been lying underneath the newspaper.

Perfect.

Lowering the paper Zephyr rested his hands in his lap and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he concentrated, shifting his senses to a higher plane to unlock his spatial awareness, instantly becoming aware of the untold number of air particles in existence around him. Now it no longer mattered whether his eyes were open or closed, the lights on or off; simply by reading the movements of the air, where it stopped, where it flowed and most importantly, where it was absent he could identify his surrounding as easily as one could through vision alone. He did so now; letting his mind sift deftly through the motions of the various gases around him, abundant quantities of nitrogen, oxygen were noted with idle interest along with other trace gases before swiftly the elementals thoughts arrived at the location of interest. What others would clearly see as a silver mechanical pencil was, for the elemental, a blank space in his perceptions roughly 7 inches long and 18 millimeters wide.

Air was simply a collection of gases and just like solids and liquids they were made of molecules, the only difference between them was a simple matter of design. Solids were the strongest of the three states of matter due to the fact that it possessed the greatest number of bonds and most complex designs, likewise air was the weakest or most malleable because it had the fewest bonds and simplest designs. when you looked at the root of it the only purpose of the bonds was to keep molecules connected to each other, to keep them close. The design then, dictated how the bonds were arranged and by extension how many molecules could fit into a certain amount of space. So essentially it all boiled down to how many molecules you could fit within a certain space. If one were able to manipulate the movements of molecules, forcing them together, then that person could, theoretically, create an impassible barrier.

Although Simon may have been slightly hubristic when it came to his powers he was not so conceited as to believe he was capable of such a defense. After all wasn’t there a saying? Something about death and taxes… hmm, considering the fact he almost never paid taxes himself and that his usual employer was an immortal vampire that probably wasn’t the best example, either way he had struck off on a tangent. The point was, that although he was able to recognize and influencing the various air particles around him Zephyr had never turned his talents towards such a goal before and although he was certain he knew how to achieve such a task he had no true idea how much pressure he could create. Still one had to start somewhere and in cases such as this it was best to start small; for now he would be satisfied with simply summoning the pencil so that he could begin the crossword.

Clearing his mind the elemental focused his attention upon the air adjacent to that of his target, slowly picturing the shape he wished the air to take; a hollow cylindrical design which would mold itself around the target thereby helping to ensure a firm grasp. With that done he swiftly began grasping particles with which to begin construction, not bothering consider their shape or size for the moment he piled them together somewhat haphazardly. The molecules tried repeatedly to slip from his hold, as was their nature, but Simon held them firm, simply increasing the amount of pressure to keep them in their place.

When he was satisfied with the strength of his hold Zephyr opened his eyes and stared at his target. Now that he had a foundation made the next step was to shift it; compel the trapped particles to move in the same direction at the same time with the same speed. If he could accomplish that then, in theory, the pressurized air would retain the shape he had crafted and therefore move not only itself but also the pencil. However there was saying that he found appropriate for this occasion; “in theory practice and theory are the same, in practice they are not.”

Thus the elemental endeavored to keep his thoughts on task as he concentrated on the shell he had created; working slowly to ensure that every atom would move as he wanted, seeking out those which had extra energy or space and quickly stifling their resistance before eventually relaxing his hold and coaxing the shell to move towards him and faint flicker of surprise registered in his eyes when the cylindrical writing tool slowly edged across the polished wood bringing the merest ghost of a smile to his lips. This was a controlled shift, not a chaotic movement brought on by a strong breeze, ceasing the targets momentum was even easy than initiating it for he had only to command every particle to stop.

Summoning the instrument to the edge of the table Zephyr swiftly went over the design of the shell he had created, it seemed structurally sound enough, as the old adage went though “the proof was in the eating of pudding”. Almost unconsciously the elementals right hand flipped over, palm facing towards the ceiling, his gaze remaining fixed on the instrument as he projected his intentions; commanding the air he had crafted to rise in a smooth motion.

The pencil trembled.

Simon frowned and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Even if this was a first time such a task should not be difficult. He was simply moving a collection of particles while keeping them in a predefined shape, that surely was not beyond his abilities. The mercenary furrowed his brow as he calmed the rising tide of irritation; every problem had an answer, even if he did not necessary like it. Turning his attention to his open palm Zephyr gave a slight sigh before he allowed the index finger to twitch upwards.

Immediately the pencil shot skywards, defying gravity with apparent ease as it came to a sudden stop and simply levitated two feet above its original position.

‘Much better’

The merest ghost of a smile graced the mercenary’s lips at this marked improvement. Mind over matter, words to live by in his humble opinion. There was no task that could not be accomplished, no adversary who was insuperable; the only limits one had were those they chose to place on themselves.

With another subtle gesture the cylindrical instrument traversed the empty space like a fish through water as it closed in on its summoner and was deftly plucked from the air by slender fingers.

‘As far as first attempts go, it could have been worse.’

Adroitly twirling the pencil between his nimble digits the elemental silently critiqued his offhand experiment. There was, obviously, ample room for amelioration; his control would need to be refined further if he were to exercise this technique on larger objects. Once he had reached an adequate level however he could proceed to tests the limits of his strength. However these were thoughts to be touched upon at another time, for now he simply had 30 minutes with which to work on his crossword.

--

Approximately 35 miutes later the elementals apartment was furnished with at least twenty new delicate pieces of art decorated with a neat Times New Roman print. The crossword had turned out to be quite a disappointment, honestly whoever had devised “London elevator” as a clue for “lift” and thought it a suitable challenge for those skilled with English language needed to seriously rethink they’re profession. Still Simon had managed to pass the time and that was the main thing, his off shore bank account had registered an increase appropriate to what his mysterious employer had offered so it was now time that he introduce himself.

Grabbing his leather jacket from the hook on the wall and swinging it in such a way that it flowed to accommodate his arms Zephyr flexed his limbs to allow the expensive article to settle more comfortable on his form as he strode away from the apartment entrance and headed to his bedroom. There the elemental knelt down under his desk and recovered the Beretta he had placed there almost a month ago. Deftly ejecting the clip he noted that not a single shot had been used and decided that three additional magazines would be enough if things went awry, if he turned out to be wrong he could always buy more.

Placing the firearm inside the holster of his jacket the elemental zipped up the leather article of clothing and strolled back into the living area, pausing for a moment to retrieve the pitch black helmet he had left on the coffee table before he continued on his way out of the apartment and down the lavishly decorated hallway as he searched for the elevator that would lead to him the parking lot, and from there his motorcycle.

--

To most the swarming and sometime gridlocked roads of New York City were nothing but trial; an examination of ones patience as they remained immobilized in the never ending columns of surrounding traffic which threatened to consume them at the slightest flaw. To others however the constant hectic flow of traffic was a welcomed challenge; meant to distract from the routine monotony that afflicted so many lives. It was a test of skill, instinct, daring, and some might say, stupidity.

As he raced down the narrow white line which separated the two speeding lanes of traffic Simon reflected how, months ago, his opinion would have been in concurrence with the last statement. Much had changed since then though, he had gained a new level of control over his mutation; a new plateau which allowed him to be conscious of the presence of every atom in the air around him, and more importantly, everything which displaced it.

Weaving suddenly into an almost imperceptible opening in the hurtling traffic Simon dragged his machine across several lanes of traffic. Several cars screeched as their operators slammed on the breaks to avoid colliding with the daredevil motorist, yet their machines never came within striking distance as the ash gray motorcycle veered smartly around the panicked vehicles and shot off into an unmarked alleyway unscathed, swiftly abandoning the symphony of maddened horns and outraged drivers.

If he were asked to describe what this strange sixth sense felt like Simon would likely have replied that such a question was akin to asking someone to describe colour to the blind or sound to the deaf. Depicting something beyond another’s perceptions was not only folly it was a disservice to the one you were trying to inform; for you are attempting to give them something they could never have. Still if pressed for an answer the elemental would have likened his awareness as similar to possessing 360° vision which was not bound by simple lines of sight, for air was everywhere and it was not hampered by physical objects. It flowed around, above or underneath but it was not halted as long as there was somewhere for it to go, and on the open roads which entwined the city there was always somewhere.

Shifting his weight to the front of the machine the merc applied the brakes to the forward tire causing the entire vehicle to come to an abrupt halt, the laws of physics however, could not be so easily bypassed and so the entire rear section of the bike lurched violently into the air, almost leaving the earth entirely as it attempted to flip forwards and continue onwards despite what had been commanded of it. An attempt was all it was though for a combination of heavy winds and Zephyrs own meager weight leeched the energy from the movement and kept the vehicle hinged on its front wheel, balanced precariously in midair in seeming defiance of gravity. Such an act could not be maintained for long though and so the elemental tensed his muscles and summoned another targeted gale as he forced the machine to pivot upon its single point within the cramped confines of the alleyway. Only once the machine had performed a 90° turn did he allow both wheels to touch gravel once more before shooting down into another section of hidden passages within the concrete jungle that was the city as he closed in on his target.

--

Shopping malls, in essence, are simply highly concentrated areas constructed specifically for the purpose of commerce. They were the modern day bazaar, an upgraded flea market, if you could not find what you were seeking in one of these commercialized hubs then it probably wasn’t worth looking for. The sheer range and variety of most these constructs was immense. Under a single roof one could, if they so desired, purchase coffee, a new pair of jeans, a hose, a cell phone, a dictionary, information and even death if they but knew where to look. Oddly enough the final item was not currently of any interest to the elemental as he weaved his way through the wandering masses that inhabited the walkways within the monolithic structure of steel and concrete. Admittedly death had never truly been of much interest to him, it had simply been a way of paying for his rather costly style of living and fortuitously there were certain individuals in the world who would pay most highly for anyone who could make others experience rather timely “accidents”.

Glancing up at the array of signs which decorated the entrance of each and every outlet blue cobalt eyes suddenly focused upon one design in particular. There was nothing special about the image, it wasn’t even a well known logo yet its simplicity was most likely what attracted its patrons for depicted upon the sign was a basic illustration of an open book tilted against several piled volumes which acted as a beacon to those who desired to spend their leisure in pursuit of more intellectual pastimes. It therefore came as no great surprise to the elemental that the store which sheltered beneath such blunt proclamation seemed to be almost invisible to the surrounding populace who barely even it spared a first glance before continuing on their way to other, more socially fashionable, outlets in which to spend their meager wealth. While such ignorance could be considered a matter of despair, the presence of such an anonymous establishment served only to benefit the merc’s purposes. For in times such as these; when technology was more abundant than ever, and almost every exchange of information was recorded and monitored, finding areas where delicate issues could be discussed and reviewed in confidence was tending to be an increasing chore.

Entering the establishment at a casual pace Simon’s feet led him in a meandering circle as he passed the checkout desk and crossed into the veritable maze of shelved texts which within moments had removed him from the sight of the other patrons as he wandered towards the little visited foreign languages section.

Something the merc had learned early on in his career was that there were two type of employers; the first either so conceited or powerful that they didn’t care whether or not they were caught meeting with a hired killer. Despite their arrogant tendencies though this group was normally the easiest to work with as 9/10 they would give him a direct means of contact and other potential resources to use should things become… complicated.

The second type was the more aggravating category of employer; they were the ones who wished to avoid direct contact at all times. This could be due to multitude of reasons though the most common was concern for public reputation or simple paranoia. This group would do everything to hold you at arms lengths and only give you the most basic of instructions with little or no opportunity to ask questions. If you were lucky your information would come from an intermediary but for the most part you were normally given specific instructions to exact location, in this case bookstore, whereupon you find what, at best, could be called a mission briefing.

Brushing a gloved hand across the rows of French texts the elemental scanned the obscure volumes until at last his eyes caught sight of the required volume. “The French language and question of Identity”, a title certain to turn away all but the most enthusiastic academics the book went a step further to deter interest by being three inches thick and wrapping itself in a mottled brown cover. There were actually three of the texts in stock, yet the merc only wanted one and if his memory served him correctly it was the one to left.

Removing the required volume from its position Simon deftly balanced the bulky hardback on one arm and flipped the cover open as he made a quiet show of reading through the titles first few pages. In reality though his mind had already shifted gears, bringing his awareness to a new level in order to properly observe his surroundings, searching for any overly interested observers, for although it was doubtful there was always the possibility of a sting. Fortuitously though there was not another human being within 20ft, the establishment truly was deserted.

With own suspicions put at ease for now Simon swiftly flipped began flipping pages, the moment he had removed the text he had known it was far too light, and as he came to the center of the volume this thought was confirmed for someone had hollowed out the heart of the volume; cutting a square space roughly 4 x 2 x2 inches. Nestled inside the outdated cliché was a far more modern tool; a slim silver lined piece of electronic equipment known as a PDA. This particular model was dominated by a touch sensitive screen which consumed a majority of the surface area leaving room for only four buttons at the base with which the user could use to manipulate the device. The PDA was not the only item contained within the deceptive volume though; resting atop the silver machines screen a data card no larger than the elementals thumb. Inscribed upon the data chips small surface was a simple white label with the single word “Data” inscribed across it.

‘Well at least they’re not cheap.’

Idly grasping and removing the two items from their resting place the merc took a moment to quickly examine them, with technology these days nothing was it seemed, however after a little tampering with the back panel the elemental was able to set the majority of his fear asides as he saw nothing which screamed bomb and after taking a brief moment to disable wireless transmitter the panel was replace and the entire machine deposited casually into the young mans pocket along with the data card.

He would find somewhere else to read up on his briefing.

There was always something happening. The elemental had recognized this basic truth early on in his life and it had played a crucial role in shaping his personality over the years. Too many people lived their lives as though the world revolved them, they failed to comprehend or appreciate that events could and did transpire without their involvement. They were incapable of stepping outside themselves and viewing life as a spectator instead of a participant, for Simon however such a activity was common practice and in truth something of a hobby. Whenever he found himself wanting for something to do the merc would, depending on his mood, either head out to a busy commercial hub or explore one of the more desolate areas of the countryside and simply watch world go by around him.

In this case his iterant tendencies had led him to the tranquil greenery of central park; a key site for tourists and residence alike. Ponds and tree’s were scattered throughout the area along with the occasional park bench which the elemental was currently taking advantage of, watching with an idle gaze as people from all walks of life passed him by; an elderly couple walking arm in arm, a collection of rowdy college students with a Frisbee, a homeless man shuffling by with his arms hidden within his voluminous apparel and even a pair of police officers a ways beyond the pond to his left. All of them and more Zephyr watched intently as he evaluated his surroundings. The bench he was currently seated at was guarded by a small cluster of trees which gave him some respite from the strong noon sun. Slight shade aside though he was completely in the open, visible from almost every direction with no discernable cover for at least 50 yards and this suited the merc perfectly as it meant the same held true for everyone else. He had also taken an extra step and extended his awareness to the air directly behind his position so as to further ensure his privacy.

In all likelihood he was being overcautious; he knew he hadn't been followed to the bookstore, he had yet to encounter anyone on the road capable of keeping pace with him once he got into his stride. And while it was possible that someone had observed him entering the bookstore the merc had ensured he was shielded from any Argus eyed individuals when he collected the datapad.

With a weary shake of his head the elemental removed such thoughts from his mind, there was little point in dwelling on the subject any further. What was done was done; if someone had observed his actions than he would deal with the issue later. For now though he would simply enjoy the ambience the park provided as he informed himself on the finer points of his latest contract.

Adopting an indolent pose by crossing one leg atop the other and assuming an insouciant expression Zephyr idly slid a hand into the folds of his coat and removed the silver palm pilot from its resting place before wearily powering up the device and inserting the data card. For a few moments the screen simply remained tenebrous, before emerald light burst from the device in lines of rapidly scrolling text which swiftly gave way to a diminutive keyboard and unostentatious command box prompting him for a password which was duly entered. The programs mechanics then took a moment in order to verify the validity of the elementals attempt before the device beeped in confirmation and the blank screen faded to reveal a more traditional user interface displaying a single text document that was deftly opened and swiftly pursued by the mercenary’s cerulean orbs.

Abduction. That was the basis for his current assignment, he was to locate and spirit away a half dozen individuals as designated by his employer. The motive and purpose behind such an order were unknown to the merc and in truth the elemental preferred it that way. The less he knew the better for it reduced the likelihood of others connecting him to his previous associates and also improved his reputation among potential employers as one who did not ask questions. Such a quality was often difficult to come by in a world where curiosity was a natural trait of the human psyche, hence the often extreme controls employed by underground organizations to safeguard their work from more meddlesome authorities. The clichéd Hollywood mafia was perhaps the perfect illustration in this instance for among their ranks failure and disloyalty had only one consequence; death. Those who could not enrich the organization were severed before they could cause harm and their acquaintances dealt with in a similar manner, after all dead men tell no tales… well, most of the time anyway.

The room stank of stale smoke yet there was also the familiar undercurrent of alcohol as well, the management preferred all their “patrons” be inebriated when they visited as the intoxication made them that much more willing to part with their hard earned tender.

Lights flashed from all directions creating a swirling kaleidoscope of colours and tones whilst music blared from the rear of the room generating a swift yet predictable beat that kept the lithe figures atop the stage moving in an aesthetically pleasing manner, demanding the attention of all those with a healthy libido, male or female. Now and again an unfortunate guest would attempt to do more than simply observe but their actions were swiftly corrected by one of the many bouncers maintained by the establishment; burly individuals each over 6ft who possessed no reservations about ejecting an ill-mannered patron from their seats no matter what their identity or standing. Such security was rare for an enterprise of this sort and many of the women under its payroll were grateful for the protection their employers offered for it allowed them to relax and occasionally even enjoy their “art”.

For those who have yet to grasp the true nature of the business in question let us simply describe the building as a theatre of sorts where men, and occasionally women, may attend and appreciate the pulchritude of the female form in all its many intricacies. One such observer was seated at a bar to the left of the stage, a relatively young fair haired individual with a slender frame the man looked to be only in his early twenties however his raiment’s were those of a successful financial executive; a smart yet casual business suit completed with a pair of obsidian leather shoes and an argent wrist watch. A glass of whisky was cradled in one hand while the other adroitly manipulated a sterling datapad which swiftly revealed the image of the young woman currently on stage.

The girls name was Karin Sanders; a 19 year old Caucasian female presently enrolled at New York University studying a blend of Finance and English literature. An odd combination perhaps but her selection of curriculum was of little consequence to him, indeed if things played out correctly Ms. Sanders would likely abandon her collegiate career this night, however this was all presupposition at the moment for he had to even converse with the girl, though his hesitation was well founded and not simply due to the complimentary security of the establishment. Unknown too many of the patrons gathered here tonight and perhaps even the management upstairs the nubile young woman twirling around the iridescent pole was no mere human; her blood contained a component which set her apart from the planets dominant species, an additional datum of genetic code which the media had seen fit to term the “x gene”, and it was because of the aberration in her DNA that the young man was here tonight, to make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.

Again for those who are somewhat slow on the uptake yes, Karin Sanders was indeed a mutant; a feral to be precise. The woman possessed many enhanced traits such as sight smell and hearing along with a complex muscular structure which served to ameliorate her speed and strength to far above human levels, perhaps most notable though were the almost feline style tendencies in her behavior, which accumulated to what many would pass off as a short temper, but for one who knew what to search for, the signs were evident.

Raising the glass to his lips the Argus eyed man swiftly consumed the remainder of his drink, idly placing his hand atop the glass as it was set down to prevent the barkeep from engaging in the act of libation. Placing a crisp $50 note upon the counter the emerald eyed male gestured for the server to keep the change as he wandered out the doors. The night was rapidly drawing to a close and soon his target would complete her shift and make her home and that was where he would make his move, away from the pulsing lights, security cameras and out from under the bouncers watchful eyes, that was when he would make his move. Until then he would simply watch and wait.

In the mature establishment known as the pink pussycat club, beyond the aroma of alcohol, smoking vapours and the lecherous leers of the front stage was an area that many patrons would likely give their right arm to access. It was a large accommodation, actually situated beneath the theatre esque room where the majority of club’s clientele amused themselves, despite its subterranean location however the chamber was rather well furnished; its walls were adorned with a range of dressing tables, each complete a 3ft mirror and array of cosmetics for all conceivable purposes. In its centre the salon style space possessed a series of stainless steel lockers all of which operated via a combination mechanism to safeguard their owner’s possessions. For those with a more lubricous mindset however the greatest area of interest was, perhaps, the modest shower stalls secluded within a subtle niche contiguous to the changing area where those who had concluded their performance on stage could cleanse themselves before departing and retiring to their own abodes.

Karin Sanders had only just concluded her burlesque display, escaping the spotlight via the crowded hallway whose entrance was veiled by the scarlet curtain which acted as the backdrop for the stage. Wearily weaving her around other scantily clad female forms the young NYU student deftly removed her rather excessive stiletto heels and hastily set her course for the dimly lit concrete stairway which would lead her to the ardent atmosphere of the changing rooms; the one place in the club where all the girls could afford to let their hair down, along with everything else really, as they engaged each other in idle palaver and conversed about the events of their day.
Slipping through the hanging strands of beads which clouded the doorway before her Karin’s released a tired yet satisfied sigh as her feet encountered the tile floor of the changing room and the light hearted chatter of female voices drowned out all other noise. She was done for the night, even if she had an ungodly amount of assignments to work on the next day she could relax for the few hours that had been left to her. Smiling to herself at the thought brunette made her way to the locker where her possessions were stored; swiftly entering the required combination the steel door swung open and displayed its contents to the room.

“Karin!”[/color]

The girl in question hardly had time to react to the abrupt greeting before she found herself captured in all too effusive embrace which pinned her arms to her side and nearly knocked her from her feet, such was the energy and enthusiasm behind the somewhat impractical greeting. “Laura?! What the hell?”[/color]

“Where were you last night? You can’t leave me hanging like or I’ll get all depressed and think no one likes me.”[/color] Although voice and delivery were somewhat muffled by what could have been interpreted as sobs the teasing tone made it all too evident that such was not the case. Indeed the majority of females present in the changing room had already resumed their usual activities, all too familiar with the antics of their fellow co-worker. Standing at just under 6’’ Laura Underton was the stereo typical blonder haired blue eyed American beauty, nicely proportioned in all areas and with curves many would kill for the young women was easily one of the most vivacious individuals employed at the Pink Pussycat club. Her enthusiasm however was infectious and she often played the role of peacekeeper both on stage and in back.

“I told you, I had a cram session that night.”[/color] The ferals frigid inflection made her impatience all too apparent for any who could hear the petite brunettes tone, and for those who happened to be out of earshot the NYU students rigid posture made it clear that only considerable self control had prevented a probable blow. In all likelihood Ms. Underton was the only individual on the Pusscat’s payroll capable of performing such a show of affection without serious bodily harm as Karin had been known to toss unwanted “admirers” twice her size. “I have finals coming up remember? Now could you please let go of me?”[/color] Managing to pry one arm free from the puerile woman’s tenacious grip the lissom young mutant braced herself against the gelid steel of lockers which her upper body had been crushed against at the onset of the hug.

Shaking her lusciously luminescent locks free from her face the blonde showgirl titled her head forward, placing her chin upon the shoulder of her shorter companion Laura lightly rubbed her cheek again Karin’s own before answering. “Nuh uh, I’m not letting go of you again. I like having you all to myself” The whimsical response was delivered with just the right amount of immaturity that many would have taken it as cute. However Karin was not included in this group and upon hearing her friends refusal immediately tensed the muscles in her restrained arm and easily broke the taller girls embrace, swiftly pivoting her figure and reversing their roles as she grasped and pinned her colleagues arms across her ample chest.

“You’ve got a long way to go before you can hold me.”[/color] The retort was delivered in a smug and semi playful tone which was clearly reflected in the feral mutants eyes as she felt the larger women try, and fail, to break free of her grip before then whining, yes whining, that the emerald eyed brunette release her. “ “However, if you’re willing to be a little less possessive I may be persuaded to go clubbing this weekend.”

Upon hearing these words the American beauty immediately ceased her struggles in favour of performing a rather skilled impression of a guppy fish. “What?! Seriously?”[/color]Cerulean eyes narrowed and all traces of childish innocence were instantly swept away, displaced by a far more astute persona whose interests were rather more cultured. “This isn’t right, getting you to party is like pulling teeth, what gives?”[/color] A tone of suspicion mixed with scepticism had entered the taller girls voice and it was not completely without warrant; for although Karin was arguably one of the most flexible females on the clubs roster she was renowned for her reluctance to attend any form of popular social gathering. It was an utter contradiction in many individuals mind; that such an alluring young woman encountered no difficulties in displaying her nubile form before a crowd of concupiscent characters but seeming shied away from the thought of doing the same under far more modest circumstances. What many people failed to take into account, or possibly even consider, was that the burden of a student attempting to gain a double major left much to desired in the way of free time. Additionally, unlike certain countries higher education in the United States was most decidedly not free, nor was it cheap and a sad truth of life was that immoral professions gave better returns in the short run. The fact that alcohol made her nauseas and obstreperous music gave her a migraine may also have a played a minor part in the feral mutants behaviour.

Finally releasing her azure eyed companion Karin shrugged her petite frame in response to the taller woman’s scepticism as she turned back to her open locker and proceeded to undress; reaching an arm behind her back to release the ties on the insubstantial scraps of cloth which served to conceal and support the feral girls modest assets. “Everyone needs to cut loose once in a while. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? Besides I just redid my budget and if I keep getting tips like tonight I can afford to get out a bit m-.”[/color] A light brush across the brunette’s hip caused the lithe pole dancer to fall silent abruptly and her eyes to narrow in irritation as her mind swiftly identified the source of the unexpected sensation and swung her right arm downwards with stunning speed and slapped away the insidious hand which had attempted to relieve the girl of her hard earned pourboire, resulting in a light gasp of pain from the owner of the offending limb. “Assuming I can keep said tips of course.”[/color]

“Aïe! Chienne, that hurt you know!”[/color] The acrimonious voice belonged to yet another of the Pink Pussycat Clubs showgirls, this one a slender young lady whose cheekbones and sultry timbre clearly marked her French ancestry. The woman’s name was Eleanor Ehonté and the slightly tanned female was as dissolute as her surname suggested; she had been labelled a tease among the frequent patrons of the club, engaging many a male after a performance and feigning interest only so long as she could obtain something for nothing. The moment her mark made efforts to raise the relationship to a more intimate level the elegant femme would promptly annul the affair and move on to someone new. Many of the other women disapproved of her actions, Karin among them, since Eleanor’s actions only served to promote the biased stereotype of female gold diggers, however the exotic beauty had made a point of restricting her liaisons to club customers who, for the most part, were far from innocent in their courtship to begin with and thus her behaviour was allowed, if not completely accepted.

“Don’t try and paint me as the villain, you’re the one trying to steal my cash.”[/color] Karin replied shortly as she proceeded to extract the assortment of bills from the string at her waist line, nimble fingers idly flicked through the vert sheaf’s of paper, deftly unfolding and sorting legal the tender as emerald orbs tracked the denominations on each note. “Why do even need my money anyway? Run out of guys who want to **** you?”[/color] The tone of the ferals words had been light, almost casual, however there was no mistaking the intent behind the narrow glance and false smile shot towards the would be thief.

The duplicitous dames features burned momentarily with a mixture of embarrassment and indignant rage. “You little..”[/color] whatever retort had been about to escape the French woman’s lips died as quickly as the tanned female swiftly brought her emotions under reign “I shall let that comment slide as it is clearly a part of your unfortunate nature.” The slender femme sniffed disdainfully as she drew herself up to her full height and continued, “It must be difficult for you, knowing that a freak like you will never be able to get a man, no matter how hard you try.”[/color]

“ You pompous, stuck up bi-”[/color]

It was precisely this moment that Laura chose to intrude upon the two girls verbose battle, sliding herself neatly between the two combatants as she attempted to prevent the potential cat fight. “Now now you two, no fighting.” [/color]The blonde admonished as she looped an arm around each girls head in a gesture of camaraderie which was likely unfelt by her two colleagues, undeterred however Laura lowered the three of them down into a conspiracy esque huddle before carrying on in a hushed tone, “Eleanor stop trying to provoke her, I really don’t want you being sent hospital. And Karin don’t let her bait you like that; honestly would you even work here if you couldn’t turn at least a few heads? In either case I’m fairly sure you had a new admirer in the crowd tonight. So try and keep a level head ok?” [/color] Relinquishing her hold on the other two the energetic azure eyed beauty straightened up to her full height and continued in a much lighter, not to mention more vocal voice. “If, however, you absolutely can’t keep your hands off each other at least do it on stage where you’ll get paid.” [/color]

Adopting a disdainful visage of her own Karin did her best to look down her nose at the taller tanned femme as she scoffed at buxom friends suggestion, “You’ve got to be joking, little miss mistress wouldn’t last two minutes with me, you couldn’t people to pay for that.” [/color] Ignoring the rude gesture Eleanor sent her way the petit brunette turned back to her locker and swiftly proceeded to strip off the last insignificant piece of her costume before then withdrawing her towel and heading to the showers as her mind briefly shifted to a different topic; namely the apparent admirer Laura had mentioned. The young feral had indeed been aware of the well dressed man with sandy hair and piercing green eyes whose gaze had never seemed to waiver and Karin shuddered slightly; management was typically rather skilled at recognizing the more common types of stalkers but they didn’t catch everybody. Karin herself had already dealt with two such unsavoury individuals since coming to work at the club a few months ago, however word of her mutation had swiftly spread and the lissom girl hadn’t had any new encounters for quite some time. Still though, she had been tempted to ask security to keep an eye on the unsettling man and had he not left early she likely would have followed through with her instincts.

Shaking her head of such thoughts the supple pole dancer drew in a deep breath as she entered a recently vacated shower, hanging her turquoise towel upon the designated peg before then turning on the hot water at full blast, nearly purring in pleasure as the near boiling liquid sprayed down onto her shoulders, feeling the tiny rivulets of water running down her spine, leaving tingling trails as they flowed down to the small of her back and rounded her callipygian rear before then gliding down toned thighs on their way to alabaster tiled floor. Tilting backwards Karin allowed the spray to cascade down her front, revelling in the warmth of the water as it traces her curves, coursing over her chest and down her slim stomach, cleanses her smooth skin of the perspiration which had built during her performance on stage. “Now this is more like it.” [/color] The brunette murmured as she sighed and allowed herself to relax, the weekend was upon her after all and even though she still had assignments to complete the girl still felt she’s earned some measure of peace. All that was left was to actually make her way home so she could enjoy it.