((Open for all, solo if nobody hops in!))

He felt eyes watching him some time after the first drink. After the second, he knew someone was watching him. It wasn't until the third that he started contemplating what he would do about it.

Jack and Coke. Second had been a glass of Jameson. Third? Red bull and vodka. Now he was buzzing.

He didn't usually get to drink alcohol at bars. Connections had led him here. Shady place. Didn't care to ID. Those that told police usually weren't seen at the establishment again. Fun crowd. Owner had a mutation that was a cross between cod fish and cod piece, and he didn't know what to say about that.

He scanned the crowd to see who was staring, carefully passing it off as if he was just glancing around, checking his watch, and the reflection in the mirror. When you're looking for the people watching you, look for the people that look away first. He turned and looked at the room. A guy with wild hair dark as dragon glass looked down at the tabletop and his drink. And Bingo was his name.

Bars were just downright boring when you couldn't drink. Back in France, where wine was cheaper than water, there were much looser drinking laws set. But in America, Astrid hadn't had any luck at getting someone to serve her. Everyone was sitting around and having a good time while Astrid was forced to wallow in the fact that she still had seven more years until anyone would serve her. Of course, that would require some kind of I.D., which required her to be a legal citizen, but she hadn't quite pieced that all together yet.

As she sat staring at her liquor-less soda, she tried to brainstorm ways of duping the bartender. Maybe she could... Swipe someone's I.D.? No, scratch that. Astrid had never met someone who looked even remotely like her. Ever.

Perhaps there was a way she could get her hands on a fake I.D.? Yeah, that could work, but she'd have to figure out where to get one first. She scanned the room, searching for someone who looked the type to make a fourteen year old a fake I.D. It was, after all, a less than upstanding establishment.

Her black eyes fell immediately a green man sitting at the bar. He was difficult to miss, with his red eyes, lime complexion, and very bald head.

Huh, someone weirder looking than me.

The man was obviously glancing around the establishment as well, although he was trying hard to make it look as though he wasn't. Astrid followed his gaze over to a man with wild hair, who looked down right as the green man spotted him. That was the body language of someone who had been caught staring.

Her white fingers tapped the table as she thought about how to proceed. The man with the dark hair looked to be the seedy type, though probably not the kind to hand out I.D.s to minors. He was more the rough-you-up-behind-a-dumpster kind. The green man, on the other hand, had sort of a shifty nature to him. Maybe his persona was completely due to the alcohol, but something about him made Astrid believe that he was her best bet in the joint. So, the decisions was made that she would be on his side for whatever went down. And, from the looks of things, something was going to happen.

She stood up and walked as confidently as she could manage in her new heels that weren't quite broken in and sat down on a sticky bar stool beside the green man. "You want help hurt him?" She asked him quietly. Her accent coated the words which formed an almost complete sentence. Astrid hadn't spent all that much time in American bars, but based on her knowledge of pop culture, she knew that things had ended in a bar fight. So, obviously, a man being stared at must have no other intentions other than fighting.

The accent sounded French. The girl looked French. She looked different enough not to be human, but she looked French. Also, young enough not to have a real drink, and too young to be offering help hurting people in bars.
Elliott found himself smiling a half-amused crooked zipper smile. "I don't even know him," he said lightly, and added "I don't know you, either. Names October."

Elliott held up a hand to get the barkeeps attention. He wanted to say 'a glass of wine for the French bird'. He said "a glass of wine for the French girl," instead. That's called tact. A lot of mutants are sensitive about what they're called. A lot of French birds are, too. Women, as a rule, should be treated with respect. Even though this one was not a woman, he offered the courtesy.

The bartender cracked a bottle of some sort of light beer, and offered her that. The bottle clacked against the counter in front of her and the barkeep met her eyes for a second them turned away with a grunt to polish some glasses with an old rag.

The bottle was probably better beer than the swamp-water swill on tap. A fine courtesy.

Elliott smirked. "A fine vintage," he said wryly. "Thanks for the offer., by the way." The offer to hurt someone.
There are many reasons people will stick their necks out for others, but not many who would. He felt like she wanted something. She looked young enough that liquor might be a good guess. If not, it was always a nice gift. Who knew? Maybe she just wanted a bar room blitz?

He glanced at the guy again. Maybe there was muscle underneath the big black flowing coat? Glasses types with dark hair in long flowing coats could definitely be the types to pick fights then knife you and leave you in a dumpster. Big and tall. Duster could definitely be hiding a hero. Or maybe... Huh. A guy sitting just a hair to the right matched his body motions and description, except beefier. He was also looking Elliott's way. Or maybe the girls way. He gave off a dangerous aura.

"Seems like we both have stalker problems." Elliott commented casually. "If they start something, want to trade?"

For some reason, he felt he'd have better luck than her against the thug.

The green man opened his zipper like mouth into a smile. He gave her the name of October, which, if she remembered correctly, was the name of a month. It was a strange name, she noted, for a strange man. Even more strange, he had declined her offer to help. America was an eternal source of confusion for the young girl. "Valkyrie," she supplied in return.

Her eyes brightened as he offered her a glass of wine. She hadn't even needed to coerce him or get a fake I.D. In fact, the bartender hadn't even batted an eye. Maybe Astrid should have just asked in the first place.

She didn't receive wine, though. Instead, she was handed a bottle of some sort of ale. She looked at it cautiously, not bothering to hide her disappointment. It smelled sort of funny as she sniffed it, and she wasn't sure what to make of it. It was still a far better option than her soda, though, so she tried it. Swishing it around her mouth for a moment or two, she decided that it wasn't horrible.

>>"Seems like we both have stalker problems. If they start something, want to trade?"

"No!" She replied immediately, slightly too loud. There was no way she wanted to take on the smaller man; that would be boring. Besides, she was sure she could handle herself, probably even better than the funny looking green man. "I take big man in sleep," she told him in a haughty tone.

She leaned back and tried to suave as she looked around the bar. The entire effect was pretty much ruined, however, when she choked briefly on her drink. Astrid wiped her mouth with an embarrassed expression, trying her best to act like nothing had happened.

When she exclaimed 'no!', both men looked up at her. They were watching them both now, and didn't seem to care if they were noticed. Maybe they even noticed each other. Was that a subtle nod? Elliott didn't notice that. He was focused on the dark-eyed girl who so emphatically wanted to fight the biggest guy. For all her bravado, she still couldn't handle a beer. No, he did not smile at that. He did smile at the bravado, though.

"It's true what they say," he chuckled. "You can't tell strength by appearance. It goes both ways, you know?" He wasn't chuckling TOO hard, though. He didn't want to insult her. "If it comes to that, you could probably take him." He hedged. "But I don't think," he started, jinxing them both. The fact that he had started saying it meant they pretty much had to throw down now.

Chair legs scraped against the floor as the biggest man rose. He was a mountain, now that you could see all of him, and he walked right towards them. He leaned against the counter, and caught the bartender's attention. He held up two fingers. "Jameson, rocks. For me." He jabbed a thumb at Valkyrie. "And her."

Okay... That was weird. Elliott stared at the guy. And then the trench coat in the duster came up on them on his other side and put a hand around his shoulder like they were old friends. "Aliens," he said breathlessly. "Tell me about your people."

"Tell me about your whiskey breath and how we don't put our arms around complete strangers, guy." Elliott shot back. He brushed at the man's arm, and dusted his shoulder off.

"I need your data!" Glasses guy rose his voice. Elliott blinked his extra set of eyelids, momentarily revealing blue eyes. Red returned with a vengeance.

"You need to back off..." He trailed nervously.

Without even lifting a finger, Astrid had somehow ended up with two free drinks. She hadn't even needed to hurt anyone to get them. Huh. Maybe she would try the whole socializing thing more often. Nah, that was about as likely to happen as her wearing pink. Or any colour whatsoever, for that matter.

Astrid stayed silent as she took the drink off of the bar. She took a sip and coughed, feeling her face flush as the liquid burned her throat. Smooth. Reeaaally smooth. Astrid silently kicked herself following the childish display.

October was conversing with his stalker as well, apparently. She detected something about aliens, which she thought maybe translated to extraterrestres. That would make sense, considering the green skin and red eyes. Was he really an alien, though? She had simply pegged him for a mutant. Perhaps she had been wrong. She had been known to do that. From time to time, of course. The rest, however, she wasn't sure about. But the green man looked like he was getting angry.

Astrid glanced at the man who bought her a drink. "Why do this?" She asked him curiously, keeping half of her attention on him and the other half on October and glasses. She wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but she was always up for a fight. Who would she fight for? Well, that would depend on who had the worst intentions, or maybe just on who bought her the most drinks.

"Seriously, information..." The guy whined. God, he was nasally and annoying. He wasn't the first alien hunter, and he certainly wouldn't be the last, but he currently held the record for worst breath.

Elliott sighed. He looked away. His eyes settled on the situation between wing-girl and the mountain that drinks, and their little exchange. If he had had eyebrows, they would have been raised. Instead, he blinked both sets of eyelids, one after the other, in rapid succession.

The question for why one does anything is quite a good one. Why does one do anything? And just what really is the good in it all? Motivation was always a factor, and this guy's motivations were, shall we say, crap? 'Why do this,' she had asked. His reply was "You're pretty." And it sounded just as stupid out loud as if someone had written it and gotten someone to read it to give them an opinion on the stupidity of a statement in printed form. It was such a stupid comment, Elliott simply couldn't stop from insinuating himself upon the conversation.

"You realize she's too young to drink here, right?" He asked incredulously. Which meant she was too young for grown men to be buying her drinks because she was pretty. Him buying her a drink because he was being polite and rewarding the bad habit of someone sticking their neck out for someone was an entirely different situation than the big guy buying a young girl a drink because she was 'pretty'. He felt everyone here ought to know.

"You need to shut up and stop getting in my way," Big guy grunted with a grimace.

Elliott felt a vein twitch in his forehead. He looked to the girl. "Hey, Val." He got her attention. "That offer from earlier." He said boldly. "You want help hurt him? I'll help."

Glasses guy dropped his jaw so far he gained a second jaw, and it looked as weak as the first. He really didn't want his alien friend getting hurt. He had half a mind to whip out his phaser, but he'd see where this went before he starting popping people with it set to stun.

The mountain man had just called her pretty. Had Astrid heard that right? Pretty was a word reserved for blonde people and park princesses, not for pale mutant girls with wings. Back in France, most of the other kids used words like inbred, or freak, but never pretty. It was probably the eyes that threw most people off.

Maybe America wasn't that bad after all.

It wasn't as if Astrid liked the mountain man or anything, or even that she had any intention of letting him know what she thought of his compliment, but it was nice to be noticed. She puffed out her chest just a bit more in pride, forgetting what implications that might have.

As her eyes travelled up to the mountain man, she realized that he was now staring again. Only this time, it was less at her face.

Astrid mouth turned downwards into a grimace as she looked at the man. Yuck. Didn't he realize she was only fourteen? As much as she tried to deny it on a regular basis, she couldn't pass for much older. Definitely not anything over eighteen, for that matter.

Or maybe that was just part of the allure. Yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck.

>>"Hey, Val. That offer from earlier. You want help hurt him? I'll help."

"Yes," Astrid smiled, her eyes fixed on the mountain man as she cracked her knuckles and changed her wings to crystal form. Two free drinks, a compliment, and getting to beat up a creep. No, America definitely wasn't all that bad.

A row of crystals were sent flying forward. She wasn't at the best angle for sure, but they were probably one of her only moves. One crystal merely grazed the man's leg, while the buried itself into his calf.

Yet another embedded itself into the man with the glasses' foot. The rest were scattered all over the bar, some in the fixtures, some having hit the customers.

Oh well, Astrid figured, collateral damage.

And suddenly, it was raining in the bar. Not men, thank goodness. And not rain. Crystals. The mountain man screamed something rude and unintelligible (for censorship reasons) as the pain lanced through him. His entire body rocked back and forth as he clutched at his leg. His face was bleeding on his right cheek from a scratch that ran across it horizontally. A crystal had hit a bottle and shattered it. The shrapnel had got him under his eye, and a finger of blood ran down it into his ruddy beard.

As the crystals had started to fly, Elliott had sprung from his bar stool and landed on top of it, then turned to drive an upward kick at glasses guy's face. The crystal through the foot had pinned him, ow. When he toppled backwards, his foot stayed in one place. He landed in an awkward pile of duster and man. The leg sprang up as the crystal dislodged itself from the floor. For all the pain he was in, his first breathless word as he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling was "Fascinating!" Elliott stared down at him in disgust.

Pain wasn't completely debilitating for Mr. Large, angry, and creepy. He stomped his leg down in a fury, and wheeled on her. His fingers caught the edge of the bar stool in front of him. A dumb man would have pulled the crystal shard free of the calf, and started the calf to bleeding. He'd chosen a wiser, if stupider, course. Hospitals and apologies would have been best. Throwing the bar stool at a girl with crystal wings in the hopes of hurting her was not. At least he seemed tough enough to handle the injury without instantly fainting. Maybe he had some sort of bullheaded battle rage mutation?

"All you mutants are actually ALIENS!!!" Glasses guy sang from the floor, in the hopes he would not be forgotten. His hand fumbled with something in an inner pocket of the duster.

Behind the bar, the barkeep was still polishing his glass, though from a safer location. And next to a shotgun spread across the counter. He glanced at it from time to time, importantly, but this was a seedy joint. Folks needed to handle their own fights. The second it became too expensive of a problem, he would start shooting. That, he hoped, would be conveyed by his course of action. He definitely had a mutation that let him tank hits. The shrapnel hadn't even touched his skin. He'd just gotten dark, like obsidian. He wasn't the owner. The owner in the back room was busy swimming in his fish tank, and thus had not heard a thing.

Astrid's decision to ramp things up had definitely gotten the fight going. After shouting a few choice words, the mountain man came at her with a stool. A stool. As if that would do anything against her crystal wings. She merely moved one in front of her as if it was nothing, deflecting his blow easily. Mountain man was knocked back from the force of his own attack, sending him reeling into the bar.

Valkyrie turned her attention to October and his alien enthusiast. Apparently, the crystal in the foot hadn't really deterred him from his interest. Instead, he was still focusing on his own crazy ideas. He would likely think differently when he tried to walk later on.

The man was getting rather annoying, actually. He was just sitting on the floor, spouting his nonsense. Astrid decided to make another show of force as she stepped forwards and wound up a punch. At the last second, however, the man jerked to the side, causing the young girl to fall flat on her face on top of him. Glasses screamed in pain as her wing knocked against his foot. It wasn't even a little bit smooth of a move, but apparently it had done the trick.

Behind her, mountain man had intended to grab Valkyrie from behind. But when she fell over, he lost his balance and fell directly on top of her. By that point, they had created a doggy pile that no one could easily get out of.

Through a tangled curtain of hair and the arm of the mountain man, Astrid looked for October to help her out of the difficult situation. She was stuck directly under most of the body weight of her admirer, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe.

All in all, they looked pretty ridiculous. They were all squirming incessantly, while muttering words unfit for young ears. It got so bad that the bartender, who had been keeping a hand quite close to his shotgun, let out a hearty chuckle.

Punch, crash, ow. Her punch had not gone the way she had wanted it to go, at all. Glasses guy was screaming. Big guy was falling. And Elliott had a bird's eye view from his perch on the stool. In a perfect world, he'd have done a flip and landed in front of the guy, focusing a downwards kick on the crown of the guy's head. But such acrobatic feats were beyond him in the confines of the bar. The ceiling was too low, dammit. He settled for stepping down from his stool. He followed that impressive maneuver up with an attack.

He had said he would help her. Help her, he did. They were in a pile. He kicked the sides of the mountain until the heap of flesh loosened his grip on everyone he was piled on and untangled himself enough to turn on him and throw a punch. He kicked the fist as he sidestepped it, and followed it up by grabbing a bar stool of his own.

The bar stool hit the guy in the side and sent him falling away from the pile. He landed heavy. There was no other way he could have landed. The bar stool wasn't broken, but he sure was. "Broke a rib," he muttered, clutching his side.

"I'll break more than that before the night is over," Elliott replied coldly.

Beneath Valkyrie, glasses guy had found his stun gun. He hauled it out and aimed it awkwardly through the tangle of hair and limbs, away from her, at the green man who still had not given him his data. He would PAY for it. He would be kidnapped and dissected and experimented upon, in that order, or maybe something else. He hadn't gotten that far yet, he was still focused on ALIENS. The TASER wobbled in his grip as he lined up the shot, and then--- He fired!!!

Elliott didn't move one inch from where he was standing. If he had, he would have stepped into the path of the TASER wires. Two electric wires shot from the end of the TASER, missed Elliott by inches, and hit the mountain man on his neck. There was a brief buzz of electricity that sounded like 'bzzzt!', and then his lights went out. He hit the ground with yet another thud that rattled glasses and bottles all over the room. Elliott turned to stare at stun gun guy... just in time to see him try to flail at the girl on top of him with the blunt end of his TASER.

Ugh.

Astrid scrambled to her feet just in time to avoid being crushed by the full weight of the mountain man. He came crashing down like a ton of bricks on the floor, making a cracking sound as his head connected with the hard tiles. The bottles in the room rattled in protest as the entire building shook.

Man, that must have hurt.

Apparently not too badly, though, as the mountain man was up in a matter of moments. A collective intake of breath had been achieved when he fell, and was released as he stood to his full - albeit wobbly - height.

"You." He stuck out a meaty finger in the direction of Astrid. Or maybe it was at glasses. Or maybe even October. It was difficult to tell since he was shaking so much. His vision must have been terrible if he couldn't even focus on one person. "You started this all, 'n you're gonna pay!" Mountain man lurched forward with his arms outstretched in anger.

Astrid stepped out of the way, giving herself a better angle to punch him at. It was a great angle, actually. Much better than the one she had tried with glasses. The punch connected with the side of his head, causing him to teeter sideways.

Er- at least he would have if someone else had not had the idea to hit him at the exact same moment.

What was this guy made of to survive a Taser dart to the neck and get back up without concern? They would need to hit him with much more than 10,000 volts of electricity. Or maybe a shotgun the the knee.

On he came, like a big dumb rhino charging. Whoever he was mad at, Elliott didn't want to be in his way. He owed it to everyone to end this, though. Wait, hold on. He didn't owe anyone jack!

As the guy ran in a straight line, Elliott dropped to the floor and started spinning on his hands while doing a handstand, gathering momentum. Capoeira style. The guy was so thick he didn't even notice it. He just gave Elliott all the time in the world and let him spin with it.

Valkyrie hit one side of the fools head with a punch. A split second later, Elliott's boot connected with the other side as his handstand spin kick landed. Brutally.

Elliott stayed there for a moment, balanced on his hands. All he could comment was "Not quite a knuckle sandwich. I give it 9/10." The comment sounded freaking weird coming from the floor. The bartender had to laugh.

>>"Not quite a knuckle sandwich. I give it 9/10."

"Thank?" Astrid said cautiously. That sort of sounded like a compliment.

The mountain man stirred while on the ground, trying to push himself up but then falling back down. Astrid scoffed at the mountain man and kicked him with the toe of her shoe. How was he still not down? It really didn't make any logical sense.

She stepped over him towards the bar and picked up her drinks. They looked similar, and they both left the same burn in her throat. so she figured it would be a good idea to mix the two. That way, she could drink both at the same time and not have to worry about holding two glasses.

It tasted... Not as good as she expected.

Not that she had initially enjoyed either of the drinks to begin with.

She turned to October, still keeping one eye on the mountain man as she did. "You are good fight," she complimented. "What evil you like do?" An odd question to say the least, but it was one that she was generally curious about. After all, he did seem to be the evil type. At least, she hoped he was.

Down, but not out. How was the guy still moving? Oh well. Elliott flipped back onto his feet, then dusted himself off. It was time to just end it already. Somehow he'd thought the battering ram kick and punch would have, but some mutants are just too strong to live.

Elliott walked over to the guy with the glasses and nabbed the TASER from him. He was injured. A wound to the foot. He yelled something about aliens, so Elliott figured he was crazy enough to call an ambulance for, but no real threat without his electric stun gun. He'd taken that. "You done, champ?" He asked him. "We can call you an ambulance."

The fight went out of alien hunter man. He'd lost his phaser. Set no phasers to stunned. "Yeah." He said. "I'll find you later but tonight, we're done."

Elliott really didn't like the sound of that, but he did not press it. He turned back towards mountain man and the bar just in time to catch a question directed towards him. What kind of evils was he into? Was that some sort of seven deadly sins question? It wasn't what he had been expecting at all, so he didn't answer it with words. He let actions speak. Elliott jabbed the guy with the shocking end of the stun gun, and sent a surge of electricity through him. He did it twice more, for good measure. This time, the mountain twitched and foamed at the mouth, then went unconscious. He didn't get up. He stayed down like a good fallen mountain. The TASER made its way into his pocket for later. Three times may have been gratuitous, but it was worth it.

Elliott bent to check the mountain's pulse, and made a show of taking his wallet while he was down there. He waved the wallet toward the bar, and said "Drinks are on him. Order whatever you want, Val! And no lite beer this time, old man. I'm watching you." He pointed at the barkeep with all two of his fingers, then brought the two fingers up to point at his eyes, doing the visual pantomime of 'watching you'. When he reached the bar, the green man sat down next to her and slapped the wallet in front of him on the countertop. "You're a good fighter, too. Those crystal wings are neat!" He laughed.