Carnegie Hall Tower. A sixty story skyscraper that reached up and pierced the heavens. It was a fairly impressive building with a many illustrious rooms for rent. It was the type of place that every citizens looked up and wondered about. One could only imagine the types of people that lived there: the rich and impressive lives that they must surely live. They were above the usual drabble of people who stalked the streets and street corners and never could descend to their level. NEVER! At least, well, that’s what the consensus was.

Unfortunately such assumptions were not true.

Some people that lived in this lavish and extreme luxury loved to let themselves descend, even for one simply party, to the level of the masses. Illegal substances, alcohol, exotic dancers of both genders, party goers who knew the “right” people, all of these components mixed and ran through such a building on a normal basis. But of course the general public never knew of this. After all, the images of those living in such luxury should never be tarnished.

Such a party was being run tonight, by a man by the name of Cameron Crane. Cameron was a man that loved a good party, that loved to flaunt his wealth, and that loved to show it off to the “commoners". One of the ways in which he did this was he hosted lavish parties which always pulled a massive crowd of people. It was so much so that they filled up his entire floor which he had rented out. Famous people, rich people, poor people, extreme partiers, they filled each room on the floor, while music wafted through the air and scents of illegal activities tickled their noses.

It was a debaucher’s paradise.

But that was not why Vicente de la Sangre was where. He strolled through the party, ignoring the gyrating women and the offers of “the good stuff” so that he could focus on the search for ONE man…Cameron Crane. Crane had used his vast wealth to help fund proponents of the Mutant Registration Act from years ago but he had managed to keep his involvement off the records.

Of course, Vicente was able to find out. Though the assassin truly did not care what he did with his wealth. Today, he was simply another target that needed to be brought down all in the name of ruining that one unicorn’s name.

Dressed in a black suit with a deep red tie, Vicente strolled acting as if he belonged in the party. He certainly looked the part, which his hand freshly slicked back and tied into a ponytail. Inside his coat he managed to bring a few weapons, as well as the “unicorn” horn for when he pulled off his transformation.

Yes, when the night was done, the unicorn, Sebastian, would be the blame for another murder in the name of mutant rights! The New York will be quaking in their boots at mention of his name before long…

Slipping through the masses of people, Vicente made his way to the bar situated in one of the rooms and flagged down the bartender with a nod of his head.

“Scotch on the rocks,” he said as he pulled out the cash for his drink. Normally he did not drink on the job but he had to maintain appearances.

A long black limousine pulled up alongside the curb in front of the tall, imposing building. Ice blue eyes peered out through the dark tinted window, none to impressed at the sight. Toying with her lip rings, she pursed her lips cast a flat stare over her shoulder at the man sitting beside her. "Don't give me that look, Chelsey." He threw a wily grin back at her, and patted her on the knee. "Just relax tonight and try to enjoy yourself, okay? You're always so goddamn tense." Rolling her eyes at him, she turned back to the window just as the driver stepped along side and opened her door. She had only known Ken for a few months, but it had been long enough to get an idea of what kind of person he was. He enjoyed "high class" things, ran a shoddy excuse of a "gang" and thought himself a king. While he wasn't repulsive, or a total jerk or anything, he was beginning to grate on her nerves in a number of ways. This, the "party" he had dragged her to, being one of them. "Yeah, whatever. Just keep your moron friends away from me, and I'll be fine."

Climbing out of the car, she tucked her hands into the pockets of her pants, and huffed quietly to herself. Since she had met Ken, he had insisted on dragging her around with him whenever he went out. She had gone on... blegh... double dates, tagged along when he had "business" meetings, and had allowed herself to become some sort of trophy girlfriend. She didn't mind for the most part... because, hell, she'd been through worse and looked far better than a lot of the girls she had seen hanging around his group of friends. In fact, other than his annoying quirks, he was a pretty cool guy. Perfect for protection, and great for entertainment. The only thing really bothering her other than all of this forced socialization, was the fact that he was trying to get serious with her. And that was just not going to happen. Nothing pushed her buttons more than a guy deciding when it was time for her to do the dirty, and he was treading that thin line.

"God, you are beautiful." He caught her by the elbow and wrapped his arms around her waist, smiling down at her. She merely stared back up, blue eyes locking with deep brown. "I wish you had worn something a little more formal, though. You look like some kind of gutter punk." Snorting, she rolled her eyes again. Yes, he had asked her to wear a dress... something classy. But she felt comfortable in her current clothing, and hadn't wanted to waste time or money trying to track down some slinky number, just so someone could throw up on her. Oh-no. She'd learned that lesson the hard way, after the last party he took her too. Instead, she had pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans, a white tank top, and thrown on a half-hoodie that sat comfortably on her ribs- exposing a good amount of hip and mid-drift. "Oh... come on Ken. You love the way I look." He smirked back down at her, and turned to lead them into the building.

After riding the elevator up a good number of floors, she and Ken waltzed down the short hallway toward the penthouse. Music, shrieks of laughter, and the loud mummer of voices greeted them, as well as a doorman, who... did not look like he was capable of the job. They entered with little notice, Ken scoping the crowds with a porcelain faced blond hanging on his arm. She eyed the scene as well, and was further disappointed. This wasn't a party, it was an excuse to get drunk, high, and throw your power around. None of those sounded appealing to her anymore. Gritting her teeth, she followed Ken as he strode forward, one hand out before them to politely push their way through the mass. She spotted some of Ken's friends just as they spotted him, and tucked her free hand back into her pants pockets. The three greeted each other, shaking hands and joking about crude things, and she found her eyes, and attention, wandering elsewhere.

"Hey, Chels?" Ken bumped her gently with his hip. "Would you mind going and grabbing us all a few drinks? We've got some things to talk about." Smiling sweetly, she nodded and let him peck her on the cheek. After getting directions, she wandered back toward where the bar was located, all the while thanking whatever god was watching over her for the momentary distraction. When he had a few moments, she made sure to kick a few of her children out of her hoodie. They were to find dark corners and spy on what was happening in the various rooms on the floor, and report back to her if anything started up. Mainly, if Ken was doing something fishy. Though he was calm and friendly the majority of the time, she had seen him snap into fits of jealousy before. Though... it had been kind of funny, watching him knock a few of his brothers teeth out when he had commented on one of Ken's ex-girlfriends. Smirking, she paused in a doorway and peered inside. A She found a semi packed room, with people loitering about here and there, sipping drinks and hanging on each other. Wrinkling her nose, she marched to the bar and plopped down in an empty seat a little ways away from another suit clad man, and waited for the bartender to attend her.

"Three beers, and a rum and coke." Blowing her bangs from her eyes, she shifted on her chair and adjusted one calf high boot with the other, while trying to ignore the other man at her right, who was trying way to hard to sweet talk some scantily clad girl into leaving with him. God... some people were just so obviously, painfully, desperate.

Cameron Crane, a man used to a life of luxury and debauchery, grinned as he stood in front of his full length mirror and admired the silk Armani suit that he wore. He adjusted the tie as he combed his fingers through his hair to make sure that it was perfectly placed. Once he was satisfied with that, he sighed as he pulled his patented, gold-framed glasses from his coat pocket and slipped them on over his eyes. The image complete, the man smiled as he turned away.

He could just barely hear the noise of the party going on outside of his door. The sounds of riotous laughter and good times pulled at his ears like the sultry cries of sirens. The urge to go out there and join them was far too much for him to deny any longer. He wanted to be there, he wanted to dance, he wanted to find an “adventurous” group of young women to lead back to his bedroom, but first he needed to wait for word from a few of his…cohorts.

Within moments of attaching his gold, rolex watch to his wrists, the door to his suite opened and a lanky man was a red dragon tattooed across his features marched into the room. The bald man nodded to Cameron.

“He’s here. He was spotted in the bar area,” the man announced.

Cameron sighed. “So intel was right. Falcone’s man, right?”

“Yes, but Falcone has no reason to send him.”

“When does that matter to a Falcone?” Cameron said with a disappointed look. “Alright, we go as planned. You know how dangerous he is. Send word to slip him something to slow him up, then get him alone. But make sure he is alone! I don’t want my party ruined.”

“Of course, sir,” the man said as he turned away and pressed the earpiece he had in his ear before speaking to someone on the other line. “Drug him.”

****

Vicente sat at the bar, his glass in hand as he casually looked over his shoulder at the passing people. He needed to blend in as much as possible if he wanted to get close enough to Cameron. Though the man was arrogant enough to run a party like this and flaunt his name, he was still paranoid that someone would connect him with his funding of the Registration Act. Doing so obviously left a huge target on his back, especially from certain communities. The last thing the man wanted was for some vengeful mutant to take it out on him. Ironic enough that Vicente was a mutant who meant to end the man’s life. But for very different reasons.

Adjusting his cufflinks, Vicente sat nonchalantly as he turned the stool around to gaze at the crowd that floated in and out of the rooms. There was such a throng of people that it would seem impossible that Cameron Crane would even be recognized. But Vicente had studied the man’s picture intently so he knew exactly who he was looking for.

On top of that, he learned that whenever Crane threw parties like this, he had these gold-rimmed sunglasses that he wore at all times. Just one of the many examples of his extravagances and something that was sure to pull the more…easily manipulated women to him.

Silently he took a sip of his drink as he sat and merely people watched. So far he had not spotted Cameron. He’d give it another minute or two before he changed to a different room and kept his watch there.

>> "Three beers, and a rum and coke."[/color]

Vicente glanced out of the corner of his eye to the newcomer, a blonde that looked like she had stepped out of a punk music video. It was only a momentary glance and he would have turned his attention away if it were not for the glimpse that he caught of her eyes. Those piercing blue eyes…Those irritating…piercing…blue…eyes…

He knew her. Well…he knew who she USED to be before she paid him to drag her to Dr. Adonis. The flesh manipulator managed to give her a whole new look, for reasons that Vicente did not much care about. All he needed to know was that she would pay him and pay him she did. Needless to say, though, it was interesting to see her again. Especially here…

…well he shouldn’t be all that surprised.

He smirked as he turned his attention away from her. Casually, though, he muttered something in her direction...

“I see Dr. Adonis’ work has yet to make your face fall off,” he whispered. “Congratulations.”

Three dark bottles were plopped down in front of her on the bar, and a short crystal cup filled with dark, bubbling goodness. She reached out to grab it, fingers tingling on contact with the chilled glass, and lifted it to her lips.

“I see Dr. Adonis’ work has yet to make your face fall off, Congratulations.”

The edge of her glass paused on her bottom lip, red lipstick smudging on a delicate imprint. Adonis...? She stared at the wall behind the bar for a few seconds, processing what she had just hear without turning her head. No one but her knew about the the face change. She had virtually dropped off the map after the... procedure, and had kept her mouth zipped tightly shut. Hell, even the people she was living with thought she was Chelsey from Brooklyn, and any "friends" she had before the switch hadn't seen her since. She considered herself more or less dead to them, and liked it that way.

Glancing over her shoulder at the owner of the comment, she gave him a swift once over, before turning her attention back to the cup in her hand. He was dressed nicely, looked clean for the most part. He didn't register in her mind as someone she knew. "No idea what you're talking about, Sir." She sipped at her glass and reached out to grab the three beer bottles. Licking rummy coke from her lips, she stood and turned to look at the man again. Longer this time.

... and she recognized him. "Aww Sh*t... it's you." The suit and slicked back hair had definitely thrown her off, seeing as the last time she had dealt with him he had been on a motorcycle, and rather rugged looking. Dropping back down onto her seat, she set the beers down and finished her own glass off in one swing, slapping the empty glass back down onto the counter lightly. She needed no further explanation on the doctor thing, as he had freaking driven her there. But him being here? That spelled trouble. Ken didn't know anything about face changes, or Megan Rova. She knew for a fact, he also didn't like being lied to. " You look like a tool in a suit." She grumbled, staring blankly at him. She was going to have to make this fast... get Ken his drink, then drag him out of the party with the promise of private time... even if she didn't intent to keep such a promise.

Meanwhile, Ken was growing a little impatient. Sure it had only been like, five minutes or so.. but how long did it take to get a few drinks? He kept an eye out for Chelsey's familiar face, and nodded politely as one of his comrades spoke. He'd give her a few more minutes, before he went looking for her. These were his kind of people at the party, sure, but that didn't put his mind at ease. Who knew who was talking to her, or.. or.. God. If he found some guy hanging on her, he'd blow a fuse...

>> "No idea what you're talking about, Sir."

Vicente smirked. He didn’t say anything as he looked forward. Whether the woman just didn’t recognize him or she was trying to play dumb, he didn’t care. It found it humorous that he would run into her here. He remembered her from awhile ago. She had contacted him to be taken to Dr. Adonis, a flesh manipulator that can mend wounds and change appearances. He charges an arm and a leg and is extremely difficult to find. But Vicente knew him and his exact location. Therefore it was not hard for him to take the young woman to him.

He was surprised that the change he gave the woman still stuck. Dr. Adonis had a fondness for his cruelty. Many times, other people who have come to him for similar things found themselves either in his servitude or wishing that they were dead. It seemed that…what was her name…Megan…was one of the lucky ones.

He hoped she counted her lucky stars every single day and that she never had to see. Dr. Adonis again…

>> "Aww Sh*t... it's you."

That smirk widened. Ah, so she did recognize him. He only saluted his glass of scotch towards her before he set it back on the counter and waved to the bartender for a refill.

>> " You look like a tool in a suit."

Vicente chuckled heartily. He knew how he was dressed and he knew that her description was probably very accurate. After all, he did not like to dress like this at all. He preferred his leather jacket or trench coat as opposed to suits like this. It always tended to make him feel as if he were not being himself, but he needed it in order to blend in tonight. It seemed to work because the copious amounts of security around him did not even bat an eyelash as he walked in.

“More than likely. All part of the job.” he said as he waited for his drink to be refilled.

He glanced back just as the bartender, with an earpiece in his ear, turned his back around with Vicente’s freshly filled scotch. The bartender watched Vicente momentarily before he turned to continue helping other customers. Vicente arched a brow but did not think about the odd behavior. A quick glance at his drink…then he took a miniscule sip and swished it in his mouth. Nothing seemed odd so he swallowed it along with another sip.

Another glance at Megan and she was finishing her rum-and-coke and looked just as irritated as ever.

“I take it you are satisfied with Dr. Adonis’ work?” he asked. He remember there being some reason about being stalked was her motivation for getting the change. He didn’t care but he was curious to make sure it work.

But just as he posed his question, a movement caught his eye. Glance up, he watched as man (who looked even more like a tool) stormed into the room and surveyed. When he caught sight of Megan a look of recognition flashed across his features. Then he turned his gaze on Vicente and then back to Megan, and them back to Vicente. And he looked mad.

Vicente smirked as he muttered to Megan…

“Friend of yours?” he asked.

Hmph. Well, at least he agreed that he looked ridiculous. Well, not completely. He looked better in a suit than all the lanky, hot headed goons wandering around the party. She relaxed a little and crossed her arms on the counter.

“I take it you are satisfied with Dr. Adonis’ work?”

Pfft. Was she satisfied with the Dr.’s work? ” I would have preferred not to have had anything done. This..” She pointed at her face. "..is taking a lot of getting used to." But.. hell, it was needed. Expenses aside, it was a lot easier than actually facing her problems. Gawain's words floated back to her, about not running away, and she wrinkled her nose angrily. What the hell did he know anyway? He was just some stupid kid... who thought she was friend material for some misguided reason.

She waited for the bartender to notice her, after refilling Vicente's glass, before asking for a refill of her own. It was one drink more than she had been planning to have, but what the hell? She was sitting next to some mysterious man for hire, who was at least a dozen times more interesting than listening to Ken's friends yammer on about how So-n-so didn't pay them , or how if they just had a few more guys they'd be able to claim a new district.

“Friend of yours?”

With her cup to her lips again, she arched an eyebrow and glanced over at the large man beside her. She was going to question what the hell he was talking about, when she glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of Ken stalking over to them. "Oh goddamnit!" It looked like her children had dropped the ball on warning her. She'd squish them later, as punishment...if they weren't squished already. Muttering a few quiet curses to herself, she slapped her glass down and rubbed her eyes. Makeup be damned! "Chelsey? What the hell is taking so long? I told you to get us drinks, and come straight back... Who is this D***, anyway?" The five foot eleven man squared his shoulders and looked Vicente up and down, snorting like he wasn't all to impressed. "Why are you talking to my girl, huh?"

Megan spun on her chair and glared at him. "You don't tell me to do anything, Got it?" She slid off her stool, and moved to pass him. "I'm done with this lame ass party. Ken caught her elbow on the way past, and gripped it tight. "Hold on just a second, I'm not done here." His voice was tight, and barely controlled. She glanced down at where he had a hold of her, and briefly considered reaching down for the knife she had tucked in her boot. Instead, Ken turned his attention back to the man she had been talking to. "I still have business with this sorry excuse for an old man..."

The man stormed towards them like an angry bronco ready to trample absolutely anything that got into his warpath. Vicente knew the look all too well. It was the look of a man who was jealous that his favorite toy was being played with by someone else. Too many times he had seen such looks in the eyes of his targets or in those for whom he worked for. People with childish and strong personalities that did not like their stuff being toyed around it.

This man was obviously no different than the lot of them. Pathetic that THAT was who the girl ended up being with after she got her face change. It was just trading one pathetic freak for another.

But, Vicente didn’t judge. Instead he merely smirked as he took another sip of his scotch…

>> "Oh goddamnit!"

>> "Chelsey? What the hell is taking so long? I told you to get us drinks, and come straight back... Who is this D***, anyway? Why are you talking to my girl, huh?"[/b]

Vicente merely shrugged his shoulders as he reached back to place his drink on the counter. He really was not threatened at all by this man. As a matter of fact he would have hoped to have simply been able to leave this evening casualties to a minimum (outside of the uniform disguise, that is) but it seemed as if this man was going to be causing some trouble. But, deciding against inciting it further, he merely sat back and watched as the urban drama began to unfold further…

>> "You don't tell me to do anything, Got it? I'm done with this lame ass party.”[/color]

Megan, or Chelsey as she was apparently going by now, bolted onto her feet and attempted to make her exit. Unfortunately her departure was stopped by the irritated and raging man. Vicente merely shrugged off the incident, seeing as he had bigger fish to fry this evening. Slowly he moved onto his feet to switch rooms.

>> "Hold on just a second, I'm not done here…I still have business with this sorry excuse for an old man..."[/b]

By all rights it should be assumed that a 6’1, mountain of a man would have an equally large fist: fingers curled up tightly, muscles bulging even through his suit jacket, a fist that looked like it could block out the sun…it was a terrifying sight. A normal man would have seen this and automatically assumed that it would be best to not get on the bad side of him.

Unfortunately this man was not a normal or a smart man.

Just as he turned around to continue to berate the “Old Man”, a massive fist flew forward. With a sickening CRRRRRRACK!!![/b] jaw bone, teeth, and flesh burst inward and whoever this fool of a man was momentarily choked as he fell backwards. Eyes began to roll up in his head as he coughed and sputtered. No other punches needed to be landed.

Vicente merely stood over him with a sadistic smirk on his face. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped off his hands before he dropped it down onto the man’s face…

“I’d watch who you are calling ‘old’, kiddo,” he smirked as he turned back around to reclaim his drink.

"....Woah."

Blinking, Megan watched as Ken toppled back, his hand sliding from her arm as the once angry man succumbed to a one hit K.O. Any shred of respect she still had left for him flew right out the window. She had always kind of figured him to be a two hit kinda guy. Tilting her head, she stepped back from him and rubbed the crook of her arm. His grip had squashed a wandering spider against her skin, as well as possibly leaving a bruise or two. With her date crumpled at her feet, she turned her eyes to the taller, more imposing man and smirked. "Never would'a pegged you as the age sensitive type..."

Her gaze shifted to the few people still sober enough to take notice, one of whom was approaching. "...Uh... Everything okay over here?" The man seemed nervous, and rightly so. He had just witnessed Vicente knock a man cold, and didn't really know what to do... other than get help, of course. He was dressed like the various servers running about the party. Megan shot him her best embarrassed smile, and reached out to lay a hand gently on his arm. "Yeah, everything's fine... my friend here, well... he just had a little too much to drink... He tried to start something he couldn't finish, you know? ...He might need an ice pack and a nice quiet room to rest in." Shooting the suit clad mercenary a quick glance, she moved aside to let the man inspect. "...Yeah, knocked clean out. Don't worry Miss, we'll take care of him. ..Hey Frankie, help me pick this guy up.." Before he left, she leaned down whispered into his ear, "...also, please keep this all on the hush hush. He's pretty proud, and this would just devastate him if it got spread around..."

The server nodded after a moment, and the two carried him off into a small side room of the bar. The rest of the occupants turned back to their conversations or drinks, and she turned back to her drinking buddy. It had looked like he had been intent on making an escape a moment before, but... now that Ken was out like a light, she needed to find a place to bunker down for a while. Otherwise, his friends would get suspicious and start something before she could hightail it out of there. When he started to leave the room, she followed. Walking quietly, peeking around the corner into the hallway, and then following some more. All the while, she tried vainly to remember what the hell his name was. She wasn't digging anything up, for some reason...

"So... uh, listen. I'm going to tag along for a bit until there's a proper chance to slip out. So just ignore me or whatever." She muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she walked beside him. Glancing over at him, the side profile of his face jogged her memory enough that she finally remembered what he had called himself. "...nice shot, by the way. I bet he'll be spitting up teeth for a week." They ended up in a dimly lit room, with tables and booth seats littering the walls. A mobile dance floor had been set up in the middle of said room, and a small mass of people were boogieing and shuffling back and forth between the floor and tables. Arching a brow, she turned to glance back down the hallway- figuring she'd be able to find a less annoying room- and spotted one of Ken's friends wandering their way. Without thinking, she grabbed the big mans hand, dragging him toward the dance floor as quickly as she could.

Vicente casually walked away from the man on the ground and the young lady he knew whom now loomed over him. The assassin really, really did not want to draw attention so if he could quietly slip away, then that was all the better.

Upon reaching the bar, the assassin casually picked up his drink, which had been refilled again. Brow arched, he shrugged as he reached for his wallet and pulled out the appropriate cash for his drink. Casually he tossed it onto the bar top and took another sip. The crowd around just watched him with shock and awe. It seemed as if absolutely nobody knew what to do with the man after he so brutally punched in someone’s face for simply displaying from rude behavior.

The majority of them turned away after staring for a few seconds and then only glanced at him from out of the corners of their eyes.

Yup, that was his cue to vacant this room. Taking his drink, he downed the last of the alcohol and growled at the burning in his thread. Setting it back down on the counter, he turned, adjusted his lapels, and made his way towards the exit. Sadly, though, as Vicente made his exit, he could already feel that he was being followed.

>> "So... uh, listen. I'm going to tag along for a bit until there's a proper chance to slip out. So just ignore me or whatever."

He rolled his eyes but said nothing.

Inadvertently Vicente growled. He was having a bad case of déjà vu from the first time that they had met. She followed him around for that event too to the point that he had thrown a knife at her. Then she snagged it and ran off. At least that got her out of his hair until he ran into her again.

Unfortunately he was on an extremely important mission tonight as well and the last thing he needed was for her to be tagging along. Sadly, though, there were far too many people here for him to throw one of his hidden knives at her. Instead he figured that maybe he could just loose her in the crowd. But even as he wandered into one of the rooms, she was persistent in following him. He was going to have to shake her somehow…

>> "...nice shot, by the way. I bet he'll be spitting up teeth for a week."

He smirked a little.

“I don’t much care for people as arrogant as your boyfriend there,” Vicente muttered. “Lucky this is a new suit or I would have done worse.”

Vicente sighed though as he found that in his attempted escape from Megan, he wandered off into one of the floors many dance rooms. The dim lights, the flashing colors, the pulsating music, all of it seemed like absolutely too much for him to hang around for too long. The thick crowd on the dance floor took no notice of him so he figured he could easily slip out and continue his search for Cameron Crane. Maybe Megan would decide to say here not follow him anymo—

“Hey!” he hissed as he was suddenly pulled into the dance floor.

That was obviously the last place he wanted to be. The girl was insistent and practically pulled him into a dance as a highly techno sounding song pierced his ears from the hidden speakers around the room. Everyone else on the dance floor was dancing to the hypnotic tones and beats rather expertly while he stood blankly in the middle of the dance floor.

He snarled. He turned to leave but paused in his own step as well. Passing through one of the halls he watched as the target himself, Cameron Crane, strolled by surrounded by his entourage. Quickly he grabbed Megan and pulled her close.

“Dance,” was all he instructed her to do as he tried some form of dancing that the general populace probably would never consider dancing. Causally he kept an eye on Cameron as he laughed and spoke with other members of the party. He needed to get that man alone…

"Hey!"

"Shush... if Kennith's friends see me with you, they are going to wonder where he is." And if they found him.. Ooooh boy. Standing so that he partially blocked from from view, she peered around his arm at the doorway. No one passed by, and she wasn't really sure her unwilling dance partner had heard her. It only took him a moment to turn and move toward the exit. This time though, she stayed put. Even if he left, she had more cover in a crowded, dimly lit room than she did anywhere else.

Glancing to her left, she watched the party people writhe and sway against each other to the music... and she felt a little out of place. She was normally the one doing that. Letting the rhythm carrier her off somewhere. ...Or at least she had been. She had been forced to drop of her old activities with a new identity. Which seriously sucked eggs. Turning away herself, she moved to head off deeper into the corners of the room, maybe find a booth and relax a little. But then, just as suddenly as she had grabbed him, she was jerked back toward him. Closer than she really would have liked.

"Dance."

And then he started moving. Not dancing, at least not any dance she had ever seen. Straightening herself, she arched an eyebrow at him. "...You dance like you have a stick up your butt. Loosen up a little, will ya?" Wrinkling her nose, she conformed herself to him and let the beat of the song move her, while trying to force him to do the same. Because really, if she was going to have to dance with him, he was going to have to dance right! While dipping and swaying a little, she felt the chattering of her spiders finally reach her. Only two were left it seemed, from the excited garble that reached her ears. She patiently questioned them as to what had happened, and why they had neglected to tell her about Ken approaching, and got soft, nervous reply's back. Apparently one had fallen in a punch bowl, and had been scooped up and swallowed by a party goer. Not... the best way to die. But hell, maybe he'd bite the guys stomach lining before the stomach acid got him. The other had been found lurking in a corner of the room, and had been trampled into a smear by a frightened woman. Also not a good way to die. With a small sigh, she ordered the two remaining arachnids to move in on her location and stake out the door to the dance room.

Glancing up at her dance partner, she noticed his eyes pointed elsewhere, and let her gaze follow his. They landed on a small group of people standing out in the hall. One of whom, seemed to command all of the attention. Who.. also looked like he was in the middle of a raging mid life crisis. Gold glasses? Really? Unless he was related to Elton John, that was not okay.

It did look like her dance partner was eying him an awful lot, though. "...He doesn't look like your type. Probably high maintenance too." If that guy was what caught his attention though, maybe he wasn't here just to drink and walk around in a fancy suit. "...Look, we're both here for some reason or another, so why not help each other out? Then we can go back to pretending the other doesn't exist after...right?" She kept her voice low enough that no one other than he would be able to hear her over the music.

Vicente continued to eye Cameron Crane was he walked into the room, as if looking for his next female conquest. That was definitely not what Vicente wanted him to do. He needed the arrogant freak to keep moving so that he could get him into such a position that he could shift into his unicorn disguise and finish him off. But the Cameron there, he knew that he was going to find it more difficult to slip away. Especially with the blonde now following him.

But that did not mean he could not make use of her. That was why he had commanded her to dance and did his best to keep up. This was definitely not the type of music that he ever listened to but he did not have a choice, he needed to look seamless within this group.

Unfortunately his improvised “dance” moves really did not seem to be cutting it. He heard a snicker or two from nearby people and while he did not care whether or not he danced well, he really could not afford to draw unnecessary attention to himself. On top of that, all this dancing, the throbbing music, the heat from all around, seemed to be playing tricks with his head. He was not feeling as tense and ready as he normally did.

>> "...You dance like you have a stick up your butt. Loosen up a little, will ya?”[/color]

He rolled his eyes and growled at the young woman. But before he could say anything to her, she started maneuver him into a most simplistic dance so that he did not stand out so much. Now instead of some fool who didn’t know what he was doing, he simply looked like some geezer trying to impress some punk girl into going home with him. That ought to be a good enough cover to keep Cameron’s man from catching onto him.

>> "...He doesn't look like your type. Probably high maintenance too…Look, we're both here for some reason or another, so why not help each other out? Then we can go back to pretending the other doesn't exist after...right?"[/color]

Another sigh. He wanted nothing more ditch the girl now but sadly she proved to be a good distraction for the moment. By using he as a dance partner, it was enough to keep the eyes of Cameron’s men off of him. But still, he simply was not feeling well anymore. He wanted nothing more to get out of this hot, stuffing building and out into the fresh air of the evening. The only way he was going to be able to do that, though, was if he killed Cameron. The man was his target and that he never quitted a target.

But damn it, why did Megan want to join him? He should just ditch her…

“Fine.” he found himself saying.

Really he did not know why but he it was too late to take back his words. Things around him were still looking and feeling a little fuzzy. He opened and closed his eyes a couple times to try and make the sensation vanish. Unfortunately it was only making him more sluggish as time went on.

He gripped the young woman’s shoulder as he began to realize exactly what he was feeling. He should have known it well since once or twice he used a similar drug…

“G-Get out of here,” he snarled contemptuously at her. But it was too late. Already a pair of Cameron Crane’s men were beelining it directly towards him…

The grumpy, and a little sluggish, fine brought a grin to her lips, and she fell back into just letting herself dance along with the music. The song shifted to another, so she adapted to it. The beat was faster, more frenzied. She dipped, swayed, and bounced to it, and temporarily lost herself in the process.

Just like old times.

It wasn't until Rafael started acting a little funny, that she snapped back out of it. She slowed down, shooting him a blank stare, and eyed him quietly for a moment. Was he having heart problems or something? On account of being so old? Maybe he had old man gas or something. God, she didn't know. Before she could open her mouth and ask, he gripped her shoulders tightly and growled at her.

“G-Get out of here,”

She blinked at him, icy eyes widening, and her children's panicked alerts sounded off in her head a second later. She swung around, her gaze bypassing the other dancing bodies, to fixate on the ones heading directly for them. With a growl of her own, she pushed some extra energy into starting up a new batch of spiders, and threw herself into action.

The unfortunate woman in six inch heels who happened to be gyrating close by her became an obstacle, when Megan grabbed her roughly from behind and shoved her into the path of one of the oncoming goons. Backing up toward Rafael, she bent down and snatched up the blade stashed in her boot. If he took notice, he'd see that it was the very same knife he had hurled at her all those months ago. She held it aloft, toward the other approaching man. Though it hardly fazed him, the small crowd around them took notice very quickly. The room was suddenly ablaze with panicked activity. People running in every direction nearly mowed the two men over.

Megan took the opportunity to latch onto Rafael's sleeve, and tug him with her as she pushed past people toward the exit. Her plan? Get to the elevator, flee the building, and cut everyone who got in her way. Silently, she ordered her children to fling themselves at anyone who tried to block their exit. The few still tucked into her hair and hood clambered out onto her shoulders, and she set about creating a good sized lump of sticky silk on her mouth.

The doorway appeared before her as a few people dived out of the way, and one of the men from before stood blocking her exit. Both of the spiders that had been lurking out in the hall dropped directly onto him, skittering into openings of his clothing before he even realized he had company. Their fangs sank into him just as she came within arms reach, one painful bite to the back of his neck and front of his throat. As luck would have it, he reacted to the bites just as Megan threw her shoulder into his chest and barged past. They were out into the hallway, music still thumping on uninterrupted, and she could barely make out someone shouting to go after them. Two men were heading toward them at the end of the hall, blocking off the way to the elevator. She turned and darted further down the hallway, toward a single door at the end. "In there! Once they were inside, she slammed the door shut and flicked the little lock on the doorknob. It was metal, but wouldn't hold up for long against kicks and pounding. Luckily for them, Cameron didn't fancy cheap knockoffs, and a fairly heavy wooden bookshelf was sitting near the door.

It only took her a few seconds to shove it into place as a barrier between her and them. "Jesus christ... what did you do, sleep with his mom or something?!" Panting from adrenaline and the short sprint, she turned to survey the room. It was fancy, and kind of looked like a dressing room. Probably where the host of the party had gotten ready for the night. Leaning against the bookshelf, she ran a hand through her messy blonde hair and breathed out a sigh. What were they going to do now? Glancing around still, she wondered if the host would have anything hidden around the room that would help them. Maybe another knife, a gun, or a flame thrower....though, the latter was pretty unlikely... She fixed her eyes on the imposing man sharing the room with her, and frowned. He was acting a little funny... "... What's wrong with you? You should have broken all of their noses.

Towering over the majority of the dancers on the dance floor, he clearly saw the men who were headed directly for the pair of them. But even though Vicente was able to see them and recognize the threat, he was still too fuzzy headed to really do anything about it. Normally he would have easily been able to handle the pair of them but as the seconds ticked away he began to confirm that he was indeed drugged. The only thing he could think of was that they had spiked his drink at the bar. Damn it. He had a good amount of it too…

Then his attention shifted back to the blonde. He had told her to get out of here but still she was persistent to stay by his side. Weakly he struggled to stay up onto his own two feet when she finally did leave him though. But instead of running away, she had grabbed someone and forcefully threw them into the path of one of the oncoming men. In a flash she pulled a knife from her belt…a very familiar one.

Part of him wanted to smirk but his eyes were seeing too many doubles for him to make light of the situation.

It was then that all hell decided to break loose. People around them saw the flash of her knife as the still oncoming man opened his jacket to reveal a gun. Any sight of weaponry within a group of people was enough to send a signal of panic between them all. One woman screamed, then another, then people began to follow as others ran. Soon enough there was a stampede going, all aimed towards the doors and exits of the room. Two nefarious men were swept up and trampled, leaving the blonde to grab Vicente’s arm and pull him in another direction.

The assassin had very little control over himself. Where normally he would have stubborn stood his ground and not be led away like some child, he simply could not do so now. The arm tugged him and Vicente staggeringly followed. He growled, trying to focus and not paying attention to the excitement that was occurring around him. He saw nothing of spiders, or heard men being shoved away, or knew that they were headed towards an elevator. Instead Vicente tried to focus and calm his breathing so he could minimize the effect that the drugs were having on him. He was sluggish enough as it was.

>> "In there!” [/color]

More shouting, the appearance of more men, and suddenly he was shoved into a room that was quickly locked behind him. He backed himself off and gripped onto what felt like a dresser. A glance around though made him feel as if he were in some kind of ornate closet. It could only belong to Cameron Crane.

>> "Jesus christ... what did you do, sleep with his mom or something?!"[/color]

He smirked a little devilish as he tried to right himself up. He was not feeling well at all. Whatever they had given him was more than potent They really wanted to make sure that he was not going to fight back at all.

>> "... What's wrong with you? You should have broken all of their noses.”[/color]

Struggling remain conscious, Vicente growled a little as he raised his eyes to meet her. He could already hear the voices of the men gathering outside the door and trying to force their way inside. If she was going to die, she might as well know why.

“D-Drugged,” he muttered as he tried to focus on her. “They…drugged me.” He whispered as he opened his jacket to reveal the knives he had strapped across his waist. “Because I’m here to kill Cameron Crane…”

Her quick survey of the room brought up nothing, and the windows were sealed... and far to high to climb down anyway. The older man muttered something, so she left her station by the barricade and hurried over to him. About an arms length away, she was able to hear him better.

And it was not good news.

He had been drugged, because he was supposed to kill someone called Cameron. Her first guess? Guy with the glasses. Why? Probably for breaking every fashion taboo known to man. Letting slip a long, aggravated curse word, she turned away from him and stomped across the room. There were an unknown number of men after then, including someone worthy of a hit man. Aforementioned killer was currently unable to kill from the looks of it, and she was trapped in the room with him.

Fuuuuu... why did she always get stuck with the complicates ones, huh? Why couldn't she get her hands on the nice, brawny stupid ones for a change? Whoever was behind the door shook it, then pounded at it for a good measure, jostling her from her thoughts. Her eyes whipped to the bookshelf, and she pursed her lips. Crossing the room, she placed a hand on the wall and ordered two of her spiders to depart. The fuzzy little bodies of two small jumping spiders hopped and bounced down her arm, then skittered up the wall and toward the door behind the bookshelf as she silently commanded. The pounding and kicking at the door had wiggled it out of place a little, giving the two spiders enough room to slip through and get a peek at how many men they'd have to deal with.

Meanwhile, she put a little extra effort into finishing the other batch of spiders, and crossed back to where Rafael was. Her children radioed in with a number, and she stared at the wall behind him, with lips pursed slightly. "...There are four of them...." She stated, shifting her eyed the the carpet. Asking if they had any sort of weapons got her confused chittering, but apparently one had a long, tubular boomy stick. She could only assume it was some type of firearm. "... one has a gun." She relayed to Rafael. "... I hope you have some sort of helpful suggestions, because they are almost through that door." Because i've never done anything like this before... She locked her eyes on him for a moment as the bookshelf shook under the power of one man's kicking. The door was nearly broken through on the other side, and all that was keeping it together was the weight of the bookshelf. About half of the dozen spiders incubating along her back were ready. She felt their birth bubbles pop and ooze, and the newly hatched widows scurried up to lurk in the hood of her coat until ordered to do something. She twiddled with the knife in her hand, and stalked back to the wall beside the bookshelf.

Planting her hand on it, she ordered five of them to crawl off and sit above the door in wait. She was sure that whoever had the gun would come in first, so she'd have to deal with him before the others. Another solid kick caused the bookshelf to jump forward a half an inch, so she retreated into the room. The silk ball in her mouth was getting big enough that talking was going to be a problem, but... she intended to spit it out at the first person who entered.

Vicente struggled to remain standing as he held himself up against the dresser. He could already feel that drug as it coursed throughout his system, trying to force him down onto his knees. But Vicente had trained for a long time against such things. He had to or he wouldn’t have made a good assassin. He knew that he needed to focus, he keep tasks running through his head and not to move too much. The more he moved, the faster the drug would course through his system and completely its villainous task. He couldn’t afford to pass out now, it simply was not an option.

Judging by the look on the young woman’s face, she definitely was not too happy in the situation she found herself in. He could only smirk; hey, she was the one that wanted to come tag along with him. As if such an endeavor ever actually worked out well. In the two times she had met him, he had thrown a knife at her and taken her to a diabolical mutant that painfully restructured her face and body. She should have known that tagging along would not be beneficial to her health.

But such was her fate. She would have to deal with it and he hoped she that she would not collapse into some bubbling mass of tears and sniffles.

Judging by her movements as she twirled the knife in her hand and crept closer to the door, it was obvious that he misjudged her. She was keeping an eerie calm, actually, and she looked almost ready to do battle. Though it was obvious that she was still trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

So she was going to be fighting for her life. How noble.

>> "...There are four of them.... one has a gun."[/color]

He arched a brow. Was she really just feeding him intel on what was going on outside? How on earth did she even know anything about that? Maybe she was a mutant, maybe she had some power that gave her the insight, at the moment his memory was just too fuzzy to remember any facts other than her name was Megan.

BANG!! SLAM!!![/b]

The door was already beginning to buckle under the weight of the abuse. In moments they would have entry into the room and with no way out, that meant that they were going to have to fight their way to a usable exit.

Vicente growled menacingly. He could definitely give them a fight…

>> "... I hope you have some sort of helpful suggestions, because they are almost through that door."[/color]

“Don’t get killed.” he muttered. Hey, she said she wanted suggestions, not that they had to be useful ones. Besides, given their current circumstances, that probably really was the best that he could have given her.

POOOWW!!![/b]

The door splintered even more. Opening his jacket, Vicente pulled a knife free as he staggered over to the wall that was supported the door. He could stay hidden long enough for the first person to break in and the second that would happen, hopefully he could incapacitate the rest of them. The plan was not a sound one but it was the best he had with his fuzzy mind at the mom—

CRASH!!![/b]

The door broke in and Vicente watched in slow motion as the long barrel of a shotgun led the charge into the room. Once the face of the man who held it followed, Vicente jumped into action. His first knife fell down with a downward stab directly into the man’s shoulder, causing him to scream and unleash a shot into the roof. Growling, the old assassin pulled the blade free and drew more blood with a slash as he pulled the man into the room forcefully and sent him tumbling onto the ground.

The next that followed was the sight of a baseball bat coming directly towards him. Unfortunately he saw three of them and was unsure which one was real…