It was hard getting yourself out there after being out of the game for so long. You get used to life and routines and tell yourself there's no time or space in your life, and you can accept your new status quo. There's also risk that comes with putting yourself out there; being out of practice only made screwing up more likely. No one liked how messy things could get if things didn't work out, but there was so much satisfaction in getting back on top and scoring big.

And so, Stephanie was at a high-class gala in her finest dress, ready to commit her first crime in three years.

Okay, maybe there was some jaywalking and petty pickpocketing here and there over the course of three years, but this was different. Steph was casing a building to pull off a real heist. She was back in her element, with only the smallest bit of guilt manifesting in clear blue eyes looking on in disappointment from the back of Steph's mind.

Steph wasn't in financial straits. Theft started as a way to keep food on the table for Malia, but they were managing, even without a second adult's income in the house. Steph could tighten her belt and survive the high cost of living in New York, so if she wanted to make a moral stand, she could have ignored the tip passed along to her from a representative of "The Syndicate." She chose to be here, pursuing a Renaissance Era painting from a trust fund manager's personal collection for one big score so she could keep things better-than-comfortable for her daughter and herself.

And it's not like there was anyone in New York to chase her down or scold her. The X-Men surely had better things to do. She could grab a ridiculously expensive glass of wine from a server and look around, ready to mingle and passively map out the layout of this jackass' gallery in her head.

In the beginning, there had been one Lenna, from this universe. She had vanished. For the people in her family (apart from her parents), that Lenna had vanished. For a long, long time.

A second Lenna had reappeared, younger, missing memories. During a time when a lot of folks had been appearing, that way.

Her aunt had found her. Lenna had let her think she was the first Lenna, and not the second. Family is family. Her aunt would have been on the other side of the rift, out of reach forever. It is nice to have family. She had accepted the place in that woman’s life…. Never knowing there had also been a large inheritance.

Then she had found out. Had moved out of the Mansion, into her aunts actual mansion. Met her trust fund manager at some point. They were nice. And Lenna had learned how her parents had left things running all that time, and let money make money, and how her aunt had kept the trust fund operating in the hopes her sister and her brother in law and niece would some day come back to her. One of them had.

Lenna played nice at the party. It was a high class gala. She wore a little black dress. For her aunt. She did not even have hidden weaponry. If people attacked, she would only have her mind and body at her disposal. Luckily, her mind could lift 300 lbs.

Her trust fund manager was nice. He had a gallery. A painting, a Renaissance Era painting, from his personal collection. And other stuff.

She could play nice and mingle at the gala, for her aunt. Even if she would have preferred to be in the shooting range. Or anywhere else, really.

Lenna had recently turned 21. She snagged a glass of white wine off a tray, and took a sip. It was not her first alcohol. She had drank plenty as a child in Colombia. But it was nice to do so legally.

Lenna looked around. Lenna mingled. Lenna drank.