She heaved a sigh as the subject of conversation began to shift. He was giving her a moment to breath and collect, rather than continue pushing forward. Or else he was trying to disarm her so he could swing back around to the more uncomfortable points in hopes of getting answers out of her without her expecting them and hoping to glean some insight that way.

Either way she would take whatever chance she could get to refocus her attention and steer clear of discomfort. Running was still an option. It was always an option. If he tried to pull a fast one she'd just make a beeline for the door and hope he didn't give chase. Easy.

"You know what I want to get out of life," she finally replied, certain they'd had this conversation in some form in the past. Probably as an argument, probably while he was berating her for acting without thought as he often did. But repeat discussions were still better than trudging through dangerous territory. Safer.

"You know I've been fighting for mutant supremacy most of my life. That's what I want. I want to be on top, to have the power and use it how I see fit," she continues, lessening the stinging press of her nails against her palms and kneading at the collection of red semicircles cut into the flesh. Mundane things like food and safety were indeed met through the Sanctuary and not really worth discussing. He could insist it wouldn't last all he wanted, but she'd fight or her home and help keep it standing as long as she was able. He already knew that, too. "I want to be part of the power running the world instead of having to run from it. Fear and power are all I need."

Listening was an underrated skill.

Far to often people were given to believe that they had something of importance to say, that their opinion mattered. A touching sentiment but hardly one founded in reality. Outside specific areas of expertise people were, by and large, ignorant and unaware of their ignorance. Experience and expertise were prized for a reason after all, and if you found yourself lacking one or both sometimes it was simply better to sit down, shut up, listen and then ask the occasional question.

So Simon listened.

Little of it was new, they'd had this discussion in various forms before, though row would perhaps be a more apt descriptor. Even then they'd always focused more on her actions then actual goals... which had honestly done neither of them any favours. Perhaps it was time to try something different?

Lowering his gaze from the ceiling Simon waited for Isabel to finish, watching as the soubrette dragged forth words while her eyes focused on nothing beyond her own hands and her shoulders tensed, ready for a fight.

"Alright. No judgement, no criticism, just acceptance. He's listened, and while it wasn't anything new, it didn't have to be.

"Power, freedom and privilege." Resting an elbow in one hand and his chin in the other he went on, choosing his words with the same care Duskmoor had shown. "The power to change things as you see fit. The freedom to use said power and the privilege to prevent others doing the same to you. Would that be a fair summary?"

As far as goals went they were hardly ground breaking, but given what he knew of the brunette they made sense. The girl had been on one leash or another ever since she'd arrived at sanctuary. It wasn't unusual for her to want some kind of independence. Still, just because he understood her goals didn't mean he agreed with them, but that was a discussion for later.

"So how do you want to go about it?" He fixed the soubrettes bowed head with an intent stat stare, expression perfectly serious. "I can help with your first goal, already have honestly, but I still have some ideas of you want to expand your power, and I mean more than your mutation." Power can in many forms after all and Duskmoor was woefully lacking in those that didn't rely on violence or threats.

Shifting to rest his elbows on his knees Simon clasped his hand and lent forward until he was on with level work Isabel. "Your second goal," he gave a brief chuckle, "honestly given how deft you've proven with loop holes, I'm not sure you need my help but I can give it nonetheless." In truth he had little idea if the compulsion could ever be removed, but it would be simple enough to reword the few commands he had given her.

He just needed reassurances she wouldn't go on a rampage the moment he did so, which led rather nicely to the third point.

"As for privilege... well, I'll need a little more from you before I know how to help with that. So, Issie, how do you want to achieve your goals?"

Isabel made a vague sound of confirmation as the young man summed up her few goals and laid them out. Power, freedom, privilege. Simple, succinct, and yet ever elusive. And he certainly hadn't helped from where she was standing. Always telling her what to do, always telling her what not to do. A big fun-ruining jerk claiming to help but only on his terms. She should have yelled more when he popped back through that Rift.

"I wanna do what I've always done before you started ruining my fun," she grumbled, crossing her arms with a sigh. "Murder, mayhem, a general lack of babysitters." The atmosphere was losing some of its tense edge and she was getting surly again in spite of his efforts to maintain civility and tranquility. It was hard to appreciate any of the help he might have offered now or in the past when he was so damn frustrating to have to work with.

She huffs, at a bit of a loss for what he might want her to say, or what he might be expecting outside of her usual answers. There was only so much he could do for someone with her history and public image. He could keep her from starting up a new killing spree, keep her out of the limelight, but he couldn't do much about her reputation. The damage was already done, not that she particularly minded. "The general population wants me dead, Zeph. Anyone with any kind of power just has a slightly better chance at getting it done. I don't think there's a whole lot of options for me besides kill them first. And I'm perfectly okay with that course of action."

Murder, mayhem and... really? Simon shook his head while trying to mask a wry grin as Isabel decried his role as babysitter. Precisely what that said about how she viewed her own behavior was, perhaps, a conversation best left for a time when he wasn't trying to figuratively ram introspection down her throat.

Even if she was sulking like a championship middle schooler; pout, crossed arms and all.

Pushing such thoughts from his mind and returning to the matter at hand, the hessian briefly found himself thankful that he was a fan of dark humour. Duskmoors goals were, in essence, a desire to commit small scale genocide which was about as far from a laughing matter as one could get. Still, the concept itself wasn't reflexively horrifying to him as it likely was be to the general population -and exactly what that said about his own morals was again a subject for another time- but because of that, because he was at least willing to entertain the idea, he could avoid getting distracted and ask the important question.

"Why?" Again no judgement, merely open curiosity as he did his best to keep his tone calm and affable. She'd given him goals yes, but like most goals they were little more than vague concepts. Ideas that could be interpreted a hundred different ways and each accomplished with a thousand different methods.

“Don’t mistake me Isabel, I’m not saying you're wrong but I need help understanding why.”

Because, beyond day to day activities, the sad truth was that most people were awful at making choices that got them what they wanted. Instead they made decisions based on what they thought they wanted and then became disappointed and angry with the results.

“The lack of a babysitter I can understand," He continued, neatly sidestepping her statement about the world wanting her dead. He would deal with that later. "that’s a basic desire for privacy and independence. But what does random murder and mayhem get you? Are you showing that you’re better than them? Is it the adrenaline rush? I can understand those as well but you need to tell me if I’m wrong because while I know you well enough to guess, I can’t read your mind."[\b]

"Because I want to." Simple, matter-of-fact, the answer was offered as if it were the most obvious thing and he was just to dense to figure it out. Isabel did as she pleased, at least when he wasn't around. She always had, often with the support of others, and in doing so had become an incredibly impulsive individual. The why's and how's rarely mattered, if they crossed her mind at all.

Still, if she had to give a moment's thought to why she wanted what she did...


"Murder and mayhem are fun. I want to have fun and do what I want when I want. The adrenaline is great, but mowing people down is power. It's being free to do whatever I want without anyone being able to stop me." She shrugged. Obvious answer again. It all seemed logical enough to her. Or if not logical, per se, then just the basics of survival.

Violence was power. Power was freedom. The less issue one took with causing harm, the less there was to hold them back in any given situation. Isabel was incredibly violent and she was very good at it, and with a few rather glaring exceptions it had largely allowed her to live how she wanted. It worked for her so there was no reason not to continue doing things that way. Simple. Obvious.

"And I am better than them."

There is perhaps no answer quite so irritating as ‘Because’. It gives no rationale, provides no understanding and serves only as a means of evading the question asked. However, when you deal with the foolish and unthinking often enough, and they were sadly all too common in the less legal realms, you eventually understood that ‘because’ was often little more than a synonym for ‘I don’t know’ and the simplest means of resolving ignorance was to provide what it wanted least; attention.

Thus he ignored Isabel’s initial, instinctive response, merely raising an eyebrow as he let the awkward lull in the conversation prod the ingenue for further details and very carefully did not smirk when she then proceeded to explain herself.

As for what her answer meant, well, there wee a number of words one could use depending on how polite they were feeling. Impetuous, spontaneous, passionate… all the way to foolish, irresponsible and unthinking. In the end though it all came back to what the hessian already knew; that the soubrette had operated with carte blanche for so long that the consequences of her actions just didn’t occur to her unless you beat her over the head with them.

Literally in some cases.

Still, that approach wouldn’t work long term and while he’d place a compulsion against indiscriminate killing, he’d also left her a loophole for self defense and it would only be a matter of time before she learned how to abuse it. No, what he needed was to reframe the issue, or failing that, redirect her attention to more acceptable targets.

“I won’t argue there Issie, I’ve seen you fight remember?” He remarked, raising his hands in a calming gesture in answer to the indignant look she shot him with her last statement. “Still, it must be dull having to fight the same weaklings over and over again. SWAT, NYPD, don’t even get me started on the Church of Humanity…” He groused while shaking his head. “You might as well be fighting off toddlers, they’re hardly worth your time”.

"It is boring," she sighed, both frustrated and just a little bit wistful. Killing humans was so commonplace now, so often droll. Merely a nuisance rather than any kind of challenge. It made he miss the years she'd spend with The Order, improvising around the actions of others and planning big jobs that required a team to complete. Being on her own, as formidable as she was, had narrowed her scope of possibilities for running amok.

"But boring or not, it's something," she shrugged. Something was always better than nothing. If cutting through a bunch of easy targets meant getting out of the Sanctuary and not spiraling into another boredom fueled bender, she'd take it. If nothing else it would keep her reputation going and prevent her from fading into obscurity.

"Humans are weak and easy to cut through, but it still gets the message across. I've got massacres pinned to my name, I make headlines all the time. People know what I can do, they know what my reputation is. If nothing else it makes sure I always have a steady stream of idiots trying to be the one to take me down and that's enough to at least keep me mildly entertained."

Boring? It was boring and she still-

No, no he had to remind himself that this was progress; they'd managed to reach an agreement, even if it only amounted to homicides not being as 'fun' as they used to be. Granted it was hardly a candidate for the Nobel peace prize but it gave him something to build off. If the killings weren't providing the adrenaline rush they used then the only motivating factor-

"But boring or nor it's something..."

There is was, she needed to fuel her superiority complex, and given her own words the soubrette evidently believed maintaining a fearsome reputation was the most effective method available to her. Even if she didn't enjoy it. Which made sense, in an oddly twisted way; one couldn't have their lessers thinking they were above their station after all, so they needed to be reminded of their place in the pecking order. It was logic driven purely by ego, but then again no one had ever accused Isabel of being modest.

And if ego was the only thing driving her little murder spree well, he might have a viable solution after all.

Tilting his head in a contemplative manner he regarded his partner, paramour, associate, companion...girlfriend, with a confused frown. "I won't deny you made a name for yourself Issie, but is it really the one you want? You're stepping on ants, a lot of them yes but it hardly shows what you're truly capable of. Don't you want to be known for more than pest control?"

He paused for a brief moment to let his words sink in, he needed to convince her that there were better ways to build a reputation and he had to do it without letting her feel insulted about her current efforts. Not the easiest of tasks but then again it was often easier to to distract people than placate them, keeping careful watch of soubrettes features he quickly continued as soon as he saw her hazel eyes narrow.

"You can do so much Issie, but you never take the chance to show it, wouldn't you rather have better opponents, ones that don't fall to the first strike? If you really want the world to see what you're capable of wouldn't you rather do it out in the open? Somewhere you don't have to worry about interruptions from the mansion or others, where you could have an audience that cheers your victories?"

"I'm known for way more than just 'pest control'," she objected with a huff. She had massacres attached to her name, factions that she had outlived, crime sprees that spanned all of New York and further. But loathe as she was to admit, now or ever, he did have a point. He always had a damn point. Crime factions seemed to be a dying breed, big heists and large scale destruction had come to a halt on her own. She was picking wings off of flies and watching them squirm under her thumb. It was getting old.

She listened as he continued, apprehensive of what he was almost elaborating on. It was unlike him to be goading her into indulging her violent tendencies. Zephyr kept her on a fairly tight leash and made it no secret that his disapproved of her brutal tactics unless it was a benefit to him. There had to be some kind of catch here, an ulterior motive to help himself move up the ladder while she did the work. But even so, if it meant a little excitement she might be persuaded to go along with it.

"Sounds like you already have something in mind." It wouldn't be totally out of character for him, after all Zephyr did like to show off now and then. He also liked to change the rules on her to make sure he always came out the winner, which only served to make her apprehension grow. She'd grown more docile because of him and suddenly that didn't seem to suit him anymore. "You're the one that stopped me from working out in the open and kept my name out of the papers, or did you forget that little demand? No one's cheering me on for it anymore, but I was working my way up until you threw a wrench into everything."

Quirking an eyebrow, Simon fought the slight sensation of a smile at Isabel’s almost instinctual suspicion. Even after a year away she’d remembered not to take things at face value, from him at least, and while he’d need to teach her how best to act on those suspicions, for now he’d settle for feeling ever so slightly smug.

Then, because she was Isabel bloody Duskmoor, and lived to frustrate him, she had to ruin it by drawing the wrong conclusion. Pinching the bridge of his nose he took a slow breath before looking back to the buxom brunette. He’d hoped he wouldn’t need to explain this but having her misunderstand him here would be worse in the long run.

“No Issie, I didn’t forget. And if you can honestly say that half of Sanctuary wasn’t as scared of you as the rest of the city at the height of your infamy, then I’ll take it back right now.”

Holding the soubrettes gaze for several seconds Simon waited for a reply, only to hold back a sigh when she finally looked away without breaking the silence.

“I didn’t think so. No one was ever cheering you on Isabel. I’m sure there were people who took satisfaction in what you did, who felt you gave them some measure of closure or revenge, but all they knew of you was your body count and it scared them, so they kept their distance. Is that what you want?”

Of course people living in Sanctuary were afraid of her. Most people were and housemates had never been an exception. But that had never really bothered her. Anyone in Sanctuary that wasn't a part of the Order was no concern of hers and she had never been bothered with the idea of making friends with any of them. Fear kept them out of her way and out of her affairs, which suited her just fine. It was easier to focus on her work that way.

She huffed again and turned her face, a heavy eye roll following the motion. He hadn't been living there at the time, didn't really know how it had worked. This was her Place and they had been her People and it was a lot more than just being used for her destructive prowess. Her fists curled at the thought, at his ever present exasperation and disappointment with her. He didn't know as much as he thought he did.

"They weren't all afraid of me. I did have people cheering for me, I had friends that didn't just wanna use me. The rest of them didn't matter, they don't matter. I don't care if they don't like me," she shot back, agitated by the very idea of it, agitated that he always thought he had her pegged and knew everything about her. "But what? You gonna try and change that now? Got some kind of trick up your sleeve to somehow change the public's opinion about me and get those crowds to start coming around? More jobs to use me as your backup muscle? Or am I gonna start running laps again for someone's amusement?"

Collaboration post due to back and forth dialog.

---

Anger, irritation; neither emotion was that unusual for the brunette, until recently they’d seemed to define her default mental state. If anything it was still odd for the two of them to talk this long while remaining… polite. Tilting his head to regard the girl in quiet curiosity Simon replayed the last few words they’d exchanged and- ah, that was it.

Up until this point he’d done his best simply to listen, encouraging her to talk as much as by asking what she wanted and flattering her along the way. Then, she’d posed him a question, rhetorical as it may have been, and the moment he’d answered she’d gone on the defensive, taking his explanation for a critique and… to be fair, she wasn’t entirely wrong.

Still, confrontation wasn’t the path to victory here, that would simply cause her to clam up. So, how best to draw her back in?

Adopting a puzzled countenance the hessian tilted his head to the other side before slowly posing his next words. “...Isabel, when was the last time I gave you an order?”

---

Answering her question with another question gave her a brief pause. When was-? What did that have to do with anything? She huffed again and leveled an unamused look in his direction, irritated and a little thrown off.

"Well I'm not keeping track, but often enough!," she shot back. “You’re always telling me what to do and ruining my fun, making me behave. It’s suffocating!” Their whole dynamic centered around him giving out orders, big or small. He was always trying to adjust her behavior, whether he was outright demanding it or not.

---

“Making- wait.” Holding up a hand to try and slow the soubrette down, Simon’s expression changed from puzzled to dubious. “Are you saying you’d behave without me?” Because if that was the case he’d need to tell her to leave Egypt, she could only spend so long in denial.

---

“I can behave! You were gone a whole year and I behaved! No big public rampages or new massacres or anything!” she snapped, bristling at his tone. One whole blissful year without his nagging and his attitude and she'd done perfectly well staying out of trouble and managing herself. But ten minutes into a conversation and he’d already begun casting doubt. “I don't need you hovering all the time like an old nanny.”

---

“Hmm, is that so?” Forcing down a smirk at the sheer indignation in the gamines tone he raised his other hand to join the first in mock surrender. Questioning her… commitment, had clearly become something of a hot button issue, and while he remained skeptical, he’d give her the benefit of the doubt for now. “You know I’ve only just gotten back and a certain ‘someone’” He added with a meaningful look, “was rather insistent on monopolizing my time so I’ve not actually been able to check up on you. Still, if that’s the case then I’m proud of you Issie, it can’t have been easy.”
---

"You! That was you! You came back here! You showed up unannounced and-! You!" She was on her feet again, face red as he leveled the accusation and her hands thrown up in exasperation. Of course he was going to try and fluster her. He always did that. She hated it when he did that. It was a cheap move and she was furious that somehow it always worked anyway. “Nothing about dealing with you is easy!”

---

“Nothing worth doing ever is.” He replied, feeling a smirk creep across his face despite his best efforts before his own words hit him and he continued, “Pun only.. Partially, intended?” He really had forgotten how fun she was to fluster as her features somehow grew even more crimson. Hmm, perhaps he should dial it back a little, he didn’t need her trying to run away at this point.

Coughing briefly into his fist to mask his amusement, he attempted to take a calmer tone. “Sorry, force of habit, you’re just too ador- *ahem*” He coughed once more. “What I meant to say, is that you’ve clearly put in a lot of effort, so how would you like a reward?”

She had barely begun to pace before wheeling on him again after his little quip, jaw working with indignation while he smirked and partially backtracked. And then fell just short of doubling down on his nonsense. "I am not-! I swear I could just-" Her hands jumped back up to mime strangulation before getting shoved into her hair as she resumed pacing.

His offer earned him an angry, suspicious look. One thing she had learned was never to trust his offers of a reward, or at least not to take them at face value. "Reward? You being sarcastic again? Okay, well you could stop bossing me around for a start. Stop treating me like a kid on a leash all the time. How ‘bout that?”

---

Leaning back he quirked an eyebrow at the girl's antics, anger to embarrassment to frustration in roughly five seconds or so; it was a wonder she didn’t exhaust herself. Granted her suspicion wasn’t entirely unwarranted, but the girl really did need to start picking her words with more care if she didn’t want them thrown back at her.

“Issie, I’ve been back less than a day, at what point in the last twelve hours have I treated you as a child?” He said with a tone of innocence that wouldn’t fool a toddler.

---

”You know what I mean.” She never broke stride as he continued to tease her and play dumb, just twisted her hands more tightly into her hair. She could swear he wanted her to try and maim him with how often he poked and prodded and stoked her anger. “It’s not just today. You always treat me like that, like a misbehaving kid. Looking down your nose and ordering me around. I’ve been good. For a whole year. Practically a X-Nerd goody-two-shoes.”

---

Frown in place he quietly contemplated the gaminess's efforts to wear a hole in the carpet as she gave her embittered retort. Then he closed his eyes and gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment.

“You're right Issie, you have.” No trace of mischief or amusement left in his voice. “You had an entire year without me breathing down your neck and you were good. With deliberate slowness he drew out his phone and opened a file and offered it to her. “That's why I thought I'd do something for you to celebrate, if you'd let me?”

---

It took a moment to register the outstretched hand as she was busy in her own thoughts silently both arguing and agreeing with the admittance that she had indeed been acting very tamely as of late. It was another moment before she decided to stop her pacing and take the offered phone, eyeing him warily as she did. “Celebrate? What do you mean celebrate? What are you up to?”

Folding his arms behind his head as she took the phone Simon gave a simple shrug. “Oh, nothing much.” His tone deceptively calm as he watched Isabel's amber eyes dart between him and the images he knew were scrolling across his screen, she’d be getting to the ‘good’ ones any moment now. “Just a chance for you to have fun without getting in trouble, interested?”

---

“That depends on what you consider fun.” Her eyes narrowed as she split her attention between his face and the phone, watching his expression while at the same time trying to make sense of what he was showing her. Without context it didn't look like much, especially in quick glances. He was obviously building up to something that he thought would catch her attention, but if he expected her to care he’d have to cut to the chase.

---

He gifted the girl a quizzical look, had she really not- ah there it was, her eyes had stopped flickering back and forth to stare intently at what he knew were brief clips of decidedly bloody fights on his phone. “I was thinking, death, destruction and mayhem?”

---

'Death, destruction, and mayhem' were decidedly unlike Zephyr to be offering as any kind of incentive, and especially not as a reward, but her suspicions were starting to wane as her attention shifted more fully to the clips playing in her hand. An odd, brutal thing to have stored on a phone, however it piqued her interest. The conversation seemed to be headed somewhere rather intense. “...Keep talking.”

---

Rolling his eyes as Isabel's own refused to leave the screen he gestured vaguely with one hand while he spoke. “Did you know that on the other side of the rift blood sports were rather common?” Something to do with mutant warlords coming to power rather quickly in third world countries in the early 80’s and wanting a way to make money off of possible competition and find potential enforcers, but he doubted Isabel cared for that. “Everything from basic pit fights in simple arenas to team death matches in abandoned towns, all broadcasted across the world for enjoyment and profit in areas where the law is far more… flexible.

Seeing the soubrette finally look up from his phone and had clearly put two and two together, he didn’t bother to hide his smirk when he saw the excitement slowly grow in her eyes. “Given that the rift world isn’t too far removed from our own, when I heard about this I decided to see what there was in our world, and while it isn’t as extensive in this reality it still exists.” Continuing as though he were merely speaking of the weather he ticked off items on his fingers. “Tournament duels, Survival Safari’s and the good old fashioned battle royal.”

Standing up with deliberate slowness he crossed the short space between them and held out his hand. “So, how would you feel about a trip to Africa?”

Context helped. It seemed to be the equivalent of mutant dog fights. Sort of. A montage of gruesome videos made more sense for him to be carrying around if he was looking to make a profit from it. Selfish as always, but that was pretty much par for the course by then.

His phone found its way back into his open hand, her attention lingering on the screen a moment longer before turning back to the young man that had closed in, wary still but unable to help a thread of excitement that was bubbling up at the idea.

“So you want to drag me to Africa, dump me into a pit and watch me tear my way through their population while you rub elbows and brag about your personal fighter?” Doing his dirty work for him again, of course. Didn't exactly seem fair, but knowing how he operated he'd likely be subtly adjusting the odds to favor himself. Not that she felt there was any real danger in it anyway. She'd taken down titans and escaped death enough times to give her an overinflated opinion of herself and her abilities. Something like a pit fight would hardly pose that much danger. Still, it was tempting. Breaking up the monotony that she'd fallen into with a little challenge and a lot of bloodshed was sounding pretty good.

But even so, there was usually a catch. “No rules? No cops busting down the doors and trying to lock me in a box again?”

---

Another shrug as he pocketed the phone. “Don’t kill the organizers? Not if you want to go back anyway” Couldn’t do repeat business with a corpse after all. “Otherwise pretty much anything goes.” He paused a moment to gauge her mood before returning her growing grin with a small one of his own. “Practically a vacation isn’t it?”

---

Don't kill a couple of people. Easy enough. If she was expected to be a fighter she didn't really expect to be doing too much socializing. Zephyr was usually the one to do the schmoozing anyway, which was usually for the best especially since he seemed intent on having her participate on a recurring basis.

“Compared to sitting around here it's like hitting the lottery.”