After having been both served and denied at two different bars in New York, Astrid decided to try her luck at a new place. She had never heard of it before, but it certainly looked interesting. It had some big long name that she wasn't even going to bother trying to pronounce, and it was supposed to be mutant friendly. She hoped that she could get away with saying her mutation made her look younger or something.

She had chosen her outfit carefully to make her look as old as possible. Her heels were reminiscent of her shifted wings, accompanied by her favourite colour. Her dress was a new thing that she had swiped recently, and she was quite proud of it. It felt somewhat edgy to her while still being frilly and floofy. It was the perfect combination.

The trouble was actually getting inside of the bar. Usually, she would have tried flying in through an upper window or something, but there didn't seem to be any accessible ones on the building. She huffed as she flew around and tried to look for one, finding that luck was not on her side that night.

After a few more moments, she decided to simply land and try to get in by foot. She avoided passersby on the street and pushed her way to the front of the line. She simply had to get past the bouncer, and they were usually pretty stupid, so she had no doubt in her mind that she could dupe whoever it was easily.

However, as her eyes locked with the bouncer's, she had a different response than the one she had initially expected. The 'person' at the door, if she could call it that, was rainbow coloured, and looked like something from a nineteen eighties sci-fi movie. It was almost hard to look at it, but she did it anyway, still wanting to seem as old and as confident as possible.

"Want inside," she told the thing. "Get drink."

Door duty was the worst. Most people were pleasant and/or too stoked to go in to cause too many problems. But the occasional *ssholes were always more memorable than the actually half-decent ones. The ones who pitched tantrums and assumed that the bigger pissbaby they were, the more they could get away with. Jack hated door duty, if not for the fact that she couldn't mill about, than for the reason that she hated dealing with the worst of the patrons.

Some splindly limbed chick with alabaster skin, dark hair, eyes, and dress sashayed her way up to the prawn, defiantly tilting her chin forward. The seven-and-a-half foot behemoth arched her brows, staring down her nasal ridge at the figure before her.

>> "Want inside. Get drink."

Uh-huh. Right. The prawn breathed a huff of disbelief, adjusting her suit coat. It was her usual unifom-- black slacks, vest and button-up shirt, and a black surgica mask. And, of course, a bone mic. The lady came up to perhaps the base of her sternum, and that was being generous.

"Dat's nice," the prawn rumbled drolly, "Need to see ID sirst."

She looked like she was young enough to be in bed by nine o' clock, honestly. But some ladies were graced with gift of looking young. Checking ID was a good way to cover oneself. Besides which, the prawn had no patience for people who cut right to the chase and wouldn't give her the time of day.

Astrid's face scrunched up in anger when the stupid bouncer thing huffed at her. Seriously, why was it so difficult to get a drink in America? She didn't look that young, and yet people were still so suspicious of her. It was simply not right. People of all ages deserved alcohol, not just people with those stupid card things.

"Not I.D.," Astrid made her best lost puppy expression. "Not American. France not I.D.s. I in now thank you."

Hopefully the monster thing would fall for that line. It had been her backup all along, pretend that France didn't use the same system and she simply hadn't been given on since she wasn't an American citizen.

If not, she could always just push her way in, stab her way in, or simply fly in a different way. The options were endless. 

Not a single glimmer of sympathy flickered across Jacks' eyes. In fact, the expression with which she surveyed the young woman could generously be referred to as flat.

>> "Not I.D. Not American. France not I.D.s. I in now thank you."

Jack fished her phone out of her pocket. She was treading upon words that were more difficult to pronounce, and would have to rely on her speech program to do the leg-work. She hurriedly typed her response, and looked up to the small woman.

<<Do you have your passport? Or any form of ID with a picture?>> the smooth, synthetic male British voice asked in its flat tone, <<I cannot let you in without photo ID. Those are the rules.>>

Once the voice finished its recitation, Jack switched off the screen of her phone and re-pocketed it, staring at the small woman before her. Already she was suspicious about the girl before her. She was tiny and petulant, to boot. At least she remembered a "thank you" this time...

Stupid sea creature thing couldn't even talk right. Astrid prided herself that she at least had the excuse of not speaking the language. She listened closely to the British voice from the phone, an accent she was far more used to hearing in France. She did not, however, like what she heard.

Astrid stomped her foot, let her arms hang at her sides, and made an angry 'ugh' sound. She looked exactly like the picture of an angst-ridden teen not getting their way. Her shoulders had slumped forwards and she looked like her world was ending.

"Not one have!" She groaned and continued to stomp her foot in anger. What right did that monster thing have to stop her from getting inside? Astrid highly doubted that she was going to get the place shut down if she let in just one dubious customer. It wasn't like the police were going to stop in that second.

As much as she had perfect reasoning to give the beast, she didn't want to try and debate with it in English. That would be too much effort, and there were too many people around for her to cause a scene just yet.

So, the teen surrendered gracefully. "Fine," she stomped in a whiny voice. She stalked off in a huff, pushing aside everyone in a four foot radius of her. 

She was just going to have to find another way in.

Uh-huh. That's what she thought. Jack smirked at the impending tantrum, smug and rightfully so. She'd give the kid the benefit of the doubt up until this point, but now this conversation was only painfully familiar. This kid was ballsy-- most underaged clubgoers just tried to sneak in via the rooftop lounge. Sure, it was three stories up, but it didn't stop the truly determined. This one thought she could just waltz through the front door with a little bit of sulking and foot-stomping. And she didn't even bother trying to bribe the prawn. Plucky little thing.

>> "Not one have!"

"Tough sh--, den, kid," Jack said tersely, tossing a shrug, "No ID, no entrance. Dat's how it works here."

Her mandibles tensed and she squared her shoulders, She didn't have patience for girls like this. She'd almost rather the slobbering drunk men she so often escorted out. At least there was an excuse to use force on them.

>> "Fine."

"Next guest," Jack said dismissively, as the young woman resigned. Her lavender eyes trailed the kid for only a moment before she went back to work.

Uuuugggghhhh.

Astrid wanted to scream. Audibly, anyway. So that people could hear what was going on inside of her head. The monster thing was so smug and sarcastic. She would show it, though. She would make the thing eat its words.

Its jumbled, barely audible words.

She stomped past the line and took off without even calculating a landing point. She didn't need it. She simply flew up and looked around.

There... Was a balcony. How did she miss the balcony the first time around? Astrid wanted to hit herself over the head repeatedly, but thought better of it. She had a way in now, and she was going to take it before she was presented with any more obstacles.

The patrons already on the balcony gave wary looks to the flying mutant that took a graceful landing on the ground. She sauntered in, ignoring their stares, and began making the bar her stomping grounds.

"Drink!" She called over to the bartender and waved a pale arm to get their attention.

Fortunately enough for the young woman who had just made her way inside-- well, she actually made it in. After the bartender finished with the patron they were helping, the young man sauntered towards her. He was a red-skinned fellow with two, devilish horns protruding from his head. A flash of a smile revealed two elongated canines.

His eyes flicked to the young woman's wrist, before back to her face once more.

"Of course, young miss," he purred, "I'll just need to see some I.D."

==////==

At about this time, Jack was getting paged back inside. It was almost her lunchtime, and Roadie would be out to take her place. The armadillo-looking man waddled out, clapping a scaly hand on Jack's shoulder. With a sigh of relief, the prawn ducked in through the front door and into the club. Finally, free from door duty. Roadie had more of a way with patrons anyways.

Jack had navigated the dance floor and almost made it to the hallway which led to the break-room, when a "head's up" arose on the radio. There was a young lady in the black dress who'd been seen landing on the roof of the club, who did not appear to be wearing a wristband. Jack huffed. This b----. She didn't even need a visual to know who it was.

Unfortunately for the young woman, she'd been lacking one accessory that most patrons possessed-- a wristband. This signaled to the bartender that she hadn't paid at the door, and as such, was likely not supposed to be there. At which point he signaled the bouncers, and the notice was put out.

"She got ousted at duh door, had no ID," Jack interjected, "Want nee to stand'y?"

There was a dismissive, "Shouldn't be too much of a problem," comment on the other end of the line, so Jack continued her retreat.

((ooc: Please feel free to have the bartender call for help, for Astrid to cause a scene, whatever...))

"Of course, young miss," he purred, "I'll just need to see some I.D."

Astrid dipped her head and eyed him from the top her socket. Was everything in the stupid bar so weird looking? She sighed and glared at him with her cold, black eyes.

"I in, yes? I getting drink."

The bartender simply laughed and gave her a smug smile. "Miss, you don't have a wrist band. You need a wrist band in order to get in, so I have an inkling that you may have sneaked in here, yes? Am I correct?"

The corner of Astrid's mouth twitched and her hands balled into fists. She stood still for just a second, glancing around the area. There were so many unsuspecting patrons, and not a ton of security. It was the perfect time for her to strike. Besides, it was obvious that she wasn't going to get anywhere with the whole drink thing.

Her wings shifted to crystal, and she glared at everyone around her. The group around her all took a step back as she swayed under the new weight. While they were pretty, and especially so under the lighting of the club, it was still obvious that they were dangerous. 

Her eyes locked with the bartender, and the bottom row of crystals went flying in his direction after a few pumps.

The bartender ducked and managed to evade being stabbed. He ducked below the bar and dialed the office number. "Hi! I need help up here. We got another crazy."

When the projectile crystal feathers were let loose, there were a few shouts of alarm and people cleared the bar, but didn't flee. Something about the bystander effect and wanting to see drama unfold, plus most people here were either mutants themselves or mutant-positive.

Jack had almost made it to the door to the employees-only area when the page went out over the radio.

<We've got an altercation in the library, young woman with dagger-wings threatening a bartender for not giving her a drink,> it was one of the security personnel who was in charge of watching the cameras. His nickname was Big Brother, as dubbed by one of the more academic Chrysalis employees. <Roadie's on door-duty, so Jack? Do ya mind?>

"Shouldn't be a 'ro'len," she reiterated to herself, before pressing the mic portion in her ear and saying, "Sure t'ing, hasn't clocked-out yet."

Like that, Jack was returning to the floor, cutting through the throng of dancers with practiced precision. She turned her shoulder sideways, keeping towards the edge, and bee-lined to the stairs to the library.

"Security, cunning s'rew," she murmured, weaving her way up stairs. She navigated the crowd and saw her, the plucky French b----, trying to intimidate her way into a beverage. The bartender was nowhere to be seen.

Jack moved quickly-- there were feathers stuck into the wall liked daggers, gotta be careful-- she dropped to a knee, wrapped her arms under and around the wings and tightened her hold, barring the child from further retaliation.

"You were told to go," Jack snarled, "And now you're trashing ny clu-d. Not cool..."

<Bring her to the back, Jack,> Big Brother instructed, <We're gonna assess the damages and then decide where to go from there...>

One of the sharp-tipped feathers had sliced the leathery flesh between her upper and lower arms and stung against the cold air, but Jack's expression was unwavering. It wasn't nearly as bad as being electrocuted.

Astrid was being held! She flailed violently and attempted to break the hold on her. This simply would not fly. Astrid did not get held, especially by her impossibly sharp wings.

She wriggled as much as possible, trying to cut the stupid monster thing as much as possible. How she even managed to grab her in the first place, Astrid didn't know. Usually, whenever someone even approached her sharp feathers, they quickly learned their lesson to look and not touch.

"Leggo!" Valkyrie yelled at the top of her lungs. She yelled that repeatedly before slowly switching into her native French. <Let go! Let go!>

The girl continued to kick and flail in the grasp of the creature, refusing to go without a fight. If she did somehow manage to get free, she was going to release hell on that horrible bar.

It was the same song and dance whenever Jack gave someone the boot. They would screw around despite the rules and when a bouncer finally put their foot down, they threw a tantrum. There really was no other word for it.

To the woman's disadvantage, she was tiny. Everyone was tiny against a seven-foot crustacean behemoth. Her flailing, much like her pleading, was ineffectual. Jack lumbered away from the bar, flailing banshee still in-arms.

"Shut it," was the grunted warning, "You brought this upon yourself."

People gave her a wide berth as she crossed the "library" a quieter lounge area that overlooked the dancefloor. Curious (or perhaps stunned patrons) still blocked the stairway, however, and Jack nodded to a pair of nearby staff.

"Okay, people, move it!" one of the men shouted, "We need to get downstairs."

A stern command went-out over the walkie, which each bouncer could hear courtesy of a bone mic. It was the boss, who was now in the room with the security cameras. His instructions were brief, but unwavering.

"We're gonna have a talk. Bring her up."

((Ooc: Lemme know if you want me to change anything, or feel free to add your own spin on the plot. Idk what I want to happen!))

Astrid screamed at the top of her lungs as she was dragged against her will through the bar. Her vocal chords had begun to protest by the time they had reached the quieter area of the place, and began to produce a scratchy noise rather than the high-pitched squeal she had used so many times before.

People moved away from the odd pair that moved through the bar. It was obvious which of the patrons were regulars and which were first time attendees from the looks on their faces. The regulars acted quickly, and like it was nothing new; while the first-timers whispered and took their time in moving away. A few of them even took out their phones to film the scene. 

"We're gonna have a talk. Bring her up."

Despite the awful feeling in her throat, the girl continued to scream louder. She also proceeded to flail her wings around angrily at the beast behind her. She did not want to go have a talk with anyone, so she was going to do whatever it took to prevent that. From what little she could feel of the creature, it had some soft parts mixing in with the rainbow shell.

Valkyrie aimed her sharp wings one of the squishy areas and struck as hard as she could, hoping that it would do some damage. She hadn't been given a lot of wiggle room, but it had been just enough to move her wings at that angle.