That was about when the intergalactic being struck. He was seven stories tall, which seemed a bit short for an intergalactic destroyer of worlds. Ten would have been more the norm. His helmet was shaped like a bucket with a horseshoe on top, and if his coloration was any indication, either he was royalty or else he really liked purple hues. She would not have know he were purple, if not for audience participation.

“Wow! So purple!”

“Big purp!”

“What a pimp!!”

And so on.

He did not laugh maniacally, big purp. He merely raised his hands, and hundreds of tons of metal floated through the air to land atop to city skyscraper on which he stood. They assembled themselves into a much larger machine. What the machine was intended to do, Lenna had no idea. She watched in rapt fascination.

There were four people facing off against this giant of a man. Four people, and some person with a big head. The big head man also wore a toga.

Lenna thought to herself, This is really good.

Suddenly, from off-screen, a silver man on an ironing board blurred in. He spoke some words to the giant, and then fired orange rays. Hadn’t he been on the giant’s side just last act? She chewed on her popcorn. Yeah. This movie was good.

—

Some time later, Lenna walked out of the theater. Behind her on the marquis, various titles were listed. Quintessential Quartet, King Gorilla vs Lizard God, Keanu Wick 7, Mang Kepwang, and a few others were listed. Looked like that widow woman film about the Russian spy had finally come out. Neat. As for her opinion on the movie she had finished... better than new Star Wars, worse than old. She had quite liked when Chris evans character had blazed through time and space to get the device. The budget for that scene had to have been astronomical. All those dying suns and exploding nebulae, all to showcase his ass. To make him look good. Okay, so maybe she rated it higher than she had thought... the film, that was.

She still remembered the scene where the science man had stretched out his hand, holding the device. Had forced the villain into surrender. Such power. Lenna idly wondered what she would have done with such power.

She pulled the collar of her new leather jacket up around her neck, and hunkered down against a sudden cold wind. The jacket had been a present for her “birthday.” Or at least, the birthday she had found on her official ‘Her’ driver license. Not the less official ‘Her’ license with the blonde version of her own face. The changed one, that went by Ivy. No, this license has been found upon further digging in the old, now abandoned, apartment of her former self. She had never really celebrated or known her real birthday, under Cortez. Her aunt’s data for this world’s Lenna, her actual niece, had confirmed it. Judging from appearance and what she knew of her own general age, they had placed her at 17, now 18... and reset the birth year to around 2003. For official identification purposes, once they sorted that with the state and she finished drivers ed. Auntie would help. To grease the wheel, as it were.

Apparently, the government had forms now for those who had regressed in age permanently, as well as those from other worlds past the rift. They had already started those processes, gotten those wheels rolling. In order to clear her of any connections to this worlds version of herself, as far as any outstanding warrants or connections to criminal enterprises (or debt) were concerned... while at the same time, leaving a clear path for her to recover any inheritance that version may have claimed. She thanked her aunt for the lawyers each and every day. Without them, she would have remained a ghost. It certainly made things simpler, so far as her entire life was concerned. She still needed to contact SUPER for her personal files... simply out of morbid curiosity.

What did they have on her? And on her other self? It was all too complicated to dwell upon, so she walked and returned her mind to the movie. It was a little after 1:39 on a Sunday. She had caught an early showing. What would she see next? Her mind reeled at the possibilities. Whatever she had thought she might see, however, it had never been THAT!

She brushed aside a few strands of her short, shoulder length brown hair that had blown over her eyes, and looked up towards It.

”What the hell is that?” Lenna muttered, Colombian accent thick.

((OOC well what was it?))

"Sunday! BLOODY Sunday!" Eisenhower rocked out on the rooftop near the movie showings, sitting with his headphones and Bloop Razzle Slurpee that he'd refilled three times that day already. Something about the late morning and early afternoon made him think about the fact that he was still a lonely bachelor living with his one-eyed cat and no true friends and very little true adventure going in on his life, unlike his early twenties. Sometimes he felt the looming closeness of his quarter-life crisis coming early, so much so that he refused to look himself in the mirror for fear of catching a spare white-hair in his golden-red locks or an extra set of wrinkles under his already baggy eyes. Today was fricken Sunday and he'd already snuck in to see a couple of movies, chick-flicks, because he thought that maybe watching the movies a boyfriend was forced to watch with his girlfriend would stimulate enough of the Universe's energy to thinking he actually had a girlfriend and one would magically show up out of the blue- maybe even surface from the popcorn-littered movie theater seats and sneak a hand around his waist and give him sloppy, loud kisses with Quintissential Quartet in the background.

As he opened his eyes and laid his head on the concrete ledge painted in bird scat, he remembered why he was so alone. He f*cking was a bag of nerves around women and instead of reaching out to them, imagined big sloppy kisses during chick-flicks. He cursed his own insanity, believing that if he watched just one more movie even though matinee was almost ending, a pretty lady would magically glomp onto his waist.

Thankfully he thought about refilling his Bloop Razzle. Maybe that King Gorilla vs Lizard God movie would do the trick. He could stay afterwards and while he pretended to loiter around, wait for a female janitor to sneak his all famous one-liner, "Here to clean me up?" The futility of watching another lone movie by himself was enough for him to have decided to move on from his wistful Bloody Sunday karaoke and descend from his perch, to the strange looks of those sweethearts below the movie listings that didn't have the wherewithal to give him a decent stare. Some even ignored him outright, furrowing their Gen I brows at the indecency of seemingly innocuous mutants of their day, which Eisen thought himself as. He gave them a blue-purple tongue of disdain, before running into the theater for the third time that day and stumbled upon a gorgeous beaut.

"I bet she has a gorgeous accent." He muttered under his breath, as he slicked his ginger hair back and mustered his best Eisenhowever-freckled smile. 

"Hola chica! Muy bien." He pointed at her, totally expecting to be slapped in the face, but hey. At least he still had the entire afternoon and evening to recoil from being slapped in the whiskers.  

It was— oh god, it was. And the hair, with the thing. The dripping, and the— but how was it flying!? It was like a levitating ball of— mucus dripped from one— and its hair, like noodles floating under the ocean. Its one eye, staring as it just sort of— but no. That was not quite right, was it? Because the eye, the hair— were those? Was it— from each strand of hair, each STALK, she corrected herself, hung a suspended eye. Eight strands of hair, in total. The purple flesh looked orange, to her eyes. But only to her eyes, due to a drawback of a mutation. And it— god. What even was it? A floating snotty eyeball with eight extra eye stalks, and a razor sharp mouth full of teeth. It looked like something out of a psychopath’s best dreams, or worst nightmares. Ugly. So ugly. It was really—

“Hola chica, muy bien.” A random stranger cut into her horrified reverie. She turned and stared at him, as if he were the thing she had previously been staring at. Like she were dissecting its very existence. It took a moment for her to shake her head and clear it of the mental scar. When she did, she apologized.

”I am sorry, I did not mean to stare at you. It is just—“ She thrust her hand in the direction of— it. The thing. The thingy. ”That. I do not know— it just... what?”

She could hardly process it. But if she stopped to actually think and process things, it had probably been created by something she had been forced to fight a few times. Magic.

Some mystic or mutant had played too much dungeons and dragons, and created the beauty the two of them now saw.

But beauty, you ask? You said it was ugly!!

Yes. But beauty is in the eye... of the Beholder.

DOOM

((Google that stuff))

It was not doing anything yet, though. Just hovering, menacingly. Like a psychopath.

"Woah! Hay un grande problema!" Eisen blurted out in the Spanish he probably misheard his Papi using. The floating eye-ball with eyestalks Eisen failed to notice earlier was nonchalantly chatting with a female janitor outside. The eyestalks it had underneath its huge head, of which was also an eye, were being used to wrap around the woman, of whom which was endowed with a grand set of chest stuffing. She was practically three times Eisen's age, however, not that he did not consider such women to be beautiful, but that she was old enough for him to not be jealous of the old eye-stalker. No wonder the chica with the apologetic words, who basically ignored him for the floating eyeball, remained wrapped by the eye-figured entity. 

Was she into such things herself? Eisen considered that a slight turn-off.

"Um, if you're into things like that, you're probably at a loss, chica." Eisen turned to her and placed an arm over her shoulder reassuringly. Then he brought her into dim darkness of the movie theater to shield her from the sight. If he knew he were crossing boundaries right now, Eisen probably would not think to much about it. All he knew was that, from one hopeless romantic chasing a lover to another hopeless romantic chasing an eye-ball entity, he could sympathize.

"If you want me to help you get with that eyeball thing..." Eisen took his arm off her and eyed their surroundings. Another eyeball thing floated in the corner, wrapping his arms around a bucket of movie popcorn and dousing it in extra, extra butter. The cashier did not mind at all, which infuriated Eisen. People, even eye-ball creatures, should not be given the freedom to procure so much butter! He almost stomped off in the direction of the butter hogging creature when he realized that there were more of them. Another was walking through the front doors and another was eye-ing the movie posters placed in glowing boxes alongside the entrance. Initially he thought that the chica would be at a loss for eye-entities to speak to, but he guessed he was wrong.

"Look! There are so many of them, you don't have to be jealous. I guess this pond has more fishes in it if that's what you're looking for." Eisen pointed at the eye-ball creatures he noticed, though he ignored the one with the extra movie-popcorn butter. That guy was just too despicable to give any more attention to.