Celebrities are, for the most part, a rather self centered and vain class of individuals. They tend to think nothing, and on the odd occasion a musing does enter their undeveloped minds it typically revolves around a loss of their cynosure and how such attention can most readily be regained; whether it be through a new movie production, attending a late night talk show or simply consorting with other less fortunate individuals so as to give credence to an altruistic affectation.

In this particular case the celebrity in question had in fact managed all of the above; staring in a major motion picture newly released across the country, accepting interview opportunities with a variety of talk shows hosts and even taking time out of her assuredly 'hectic schedule' to travail upon the myriad of oil coated creatures suffering across the coast. By themselves such acts were mostly innocuous and simply pointed to a young woman whose career had lit upon a swiftly ascending path.

Unfortunately though she also possessed rather definite views on certain controversial subjects ranging from disdain for the proposed implementation of pro mutant initiatives in the business world to a similar antipathy regarding the use of decidedly non legal substances. Again this by itself was mainly innoxious, however the young woman, as previously stated, was a celebrity and thus felt her opinions mattered over all others; more to the point there was a swiftly growing mass of common, everyday people who agreed with her simply because of her popularity.

This made a number of influential and opulent individuals unhappy. When such people become displeased they often can, and will, pay a significant amount to ensure things go their way.

Thus is was that Zephyr found himself purposefully striding through the ornate entrance of the Ritz off central park one cool summer evening ten minutes after the conclusion of the first screening of "Avatism" a film which was widely purported by its makers to be the next Titanic. The dissolute elemental had an unscheduled appointment with the movies leading lady, one Lauren Olos.

He would make her an offer she couldn't refuse.

Questions. Of course Lauren Olos would be taking questions; this was first screening of the movie she’d co-stared in. A little speech and Q&A in front of the audience was a given at these functions. Not that a lowly intern at Wolf News would know; this was the realm of the staff movie critic, not the copy machine lackeys and sandwich gofers. Not even if a certain red-headed intern took a weekly break from editing the teleprompter text to race on screen for her own brief appearance. An intern was still an intern; unpaid, unloved, and uninvited.

No. No one had looked at the guest list, and seen that it was lacking Maxine Rawls. The Irish girl was here only because of a scheduling conflict. Ms. Olos was going through press secretaries like a hog through swill. Her secretary two weeks ago had been a nice young man fishing for a date, and more than willing to slip a ten minute interview into a vacant spot in Ms. Olos’ hectic schedule. Her secretary a week ago had called to regrettably inform the red head that she’d been replaced with an oil-covered pelican. The older woman had an unpleasant monotone, but repeated pestering had earned a rescheduling to today.

Upon calling to confirm the interview time yesterday, Maxine had been informed by a curt little man that Ms. Olos had a movie screening today, had always had a movie screening today, and would always have a movie screening today.

But if she’d stop crying (fake crying, thank you), perhaps Ms. Olos would have time for a five minute sit down behind screen, post-showing. In any case, she could enjoy the prescreening, at least please stop crying.

Maxine was watching that time get eaten, inane question on special effects after inane question on blue rooms. Personally, the 3D had just made her eyes hurt.

As the curt little man finally stepped up to the front and helped his employer bow out, the office supply mancer wiggled her way against the leaving crowd to intercept them down on the floor.

“Hello, Ms. Olos. I’m—”

“I’m sorry,” the curt little man interrupted her with a photogenic smile, “Ms. Olos has another engagement now. There are free posters in the lobby, however—pre-signed.”

“I’m Maxine Rawls,” the red head continued, her own smile ozzing. “I’m her next engagement.”

“That the mutie reporter, Curtis?”

“Language, Lauren. Wouldn’t want the press getting another unfortunate sound bite.” Here was a man who bleached his teeth. How many years of braces did it take to get a set of chompers that straight? Must have sucked to be him back in high school.

“Whatever, Curtis. Let’s make this quick.”

With that benevolent hand flick, Maxine was granted five minutes of the woman’s time, and the right to be infinitely grateful for it.

They set up in a little side room in the back of the theatre; Curtis hovered nearby, ready to ax any comments from the record. The brief interview began.

The Ritze, as many surely know, differentiates itself from the competition by placing the customer over all else except payment. Given the self absorbed nature of the American psyche such a strategy inevitably required the establishment to concentrate on quality and customer service. Therefore, upon immediately entering the premises one would find themselves greeted by the sight of polished marble floors, aureate paintings and tastefully chosen furniture, among which was an elegant ebony piano radiating a low but gentle melody which not only cultivated a refined and affluent ambience but also served to mask the whispered conversations taking place throughout the lobby.

Zephyr spared little time for such decorations, he had visited the building on more than one occasion during his time in the city, indeed he had spent his first month in New York residing in one of the more select suites before eventually moving to a somewhat more casual location which lacked the ebulliently grinning and rather aggravating staff employed at the Ritz. In either case the hessian was familiar with the hotels layout and after retrieving the card key which had conveniently been left for him at the front desk had deftly navigated the buildings many floors and hallways to arrive at his assigned room which was, coincidently, not directly above that of Ms. Oslo but rather three rooms to the side and two floors below, however the elemental's room did share a common feature with that of his target, namely a balcony.

Initially there was little to do but wait, Ms. Oslo had not yet returned from her screening and there was little point in entering her room until after her security detail had given it a cursory scan. In order to pass the time therefore the hessian examined his own suite, swiftly locating and verifying the contents ofa sable briefcase which had been left to assist him during the course of his... consultation with the young celebrity. The primary item within the obsidian container was a collection of quite official looking documents which together provided adequate authority to grant Ms. Olos parents American citizenship, that was the metaphorical carrot which, ideally would prove sufficient in convincing the young woman to keep her views to herself, should that not be the case however a suitable stick was also available.

With his resources confirmed Zephyr once again found himself with nothing to occupy his time, he had an approximate schedule for targets which ranged from anywhere in the next five minutes to two hours depending on what the woman chose to do. In order to pass the time therefore the British mercenary seated himself idly in one of the richly woven chairs, withdrawing an alabaster container and casually swallowing a pair of ivory pills before closing his eyes as he attempted to recall all he knew about Ms. Olos.

The woman had been born in Europe, of that much he was certain, not in a particularly well developed country but still one which provided basic necessities for its citizens. The girl had concentrated her studies on foreign languages and likely would have fallen into the role of secretary and translator for some politician or businessman had she not abruptly been scouted for Hollywood during a family vacation in France.

Upon arriving in the star struck city young Lauren had quickly demonstrated herself to be both a deft dissembler and deipnosophist, swiftly rising above more mundane roles and enamoring herself with producers, directors and fellow actors alike. She rapidly developed a reputation as an elegant young woman with a kind ear and gentle words, up until one broached a subject she disliked such as mutants whereupon she quickly became quite... vocal of her dislike, kind words vanishing in place of harsh criticisms coated in a surprisingly calm tone and occasionally supported with logic.

---

Twenty minutes passed before Zephyr's internal recollections were finally disrupted by the disturbance of air in his targets room. Cobalt eyes swiftly snapped open as the hessian deftly levered himself off the bed and collected his suitcase before proceeding to the balcony. Resting his arms upon the iron railing the elemental lowered his head to the street below and once more closed his eyes as he focused his senses on the room far above where he could sense a trio of bodies sweeping through the area, two male and one definitely female . A handful of minutes passed quietly before the two men, likely her body guards, vacated the suite and entered the rooms on either side, leaving the young woman alone.

Opening his eyes Zephyr pushed off the railing and bent down to pick up the ebony briefcase. It was time for a little chat with Ms. Olos.

That. Had been entirely dissatisfactory. Her five minute interview had been cut short at four, her notes confiscated by a bodyguard the ever-effective Mr. Curtis had summoned, and polite mentions of legal action made should she report on the words that had passed in that room.

Olos really couldn’t stand mutants. Polly hadn’t meant any harm—the red pen had just wanted a shoulder perch.

The red head quietly fumed as she watched the young actress step back into the mass of her future rave reviewers, an easy smile returning to the woman’s face. She was all ballroom elegance and engaging conversation, again.

Polly shivered over her ear. She gave its cap a reassuring stroke, and resigned herself to the background. No use throwing a tantrum. Especially not when she recognized representatives of at least two news stations milling around the reception area. An intern who disgraces her company in public doesn’t do herself any business favors.

No. She’d just disgrace herself in private.

As Lauren Olos politely excused herself to the elevator, a black ballpoint pen slipped between the closing doors and lay down in the back corner. Fifteen minutes later, when the elevators doors dinged open on the first floor, Maxine had an insider who knew where the budding starlet’s room was.

The red head took a deep breath—pushed her rage into a pleasant, happy, tightly compressed ball—and approached the woman’s door. She just wanted her notebook back from that bodyguard. It wasn’t like she’d honored the actress with a new pad; she had other stories in there. She needed it back. In one piece, preferably.

Gaining access to Ms. Olos's suit was a relatively simple manner, few buildings had yet to adequately take into account mutant abilities when designing even basic security systems and thus Zephyr was able to proceed unheeded as he silently drifted upwards to the young movie stars balcony. Likewise the sliding lock on the glass door which separated the balcony from the suit proved a rather ineffective security measure and could be easily be dealt with using nothing more than a dull blade of air, however the hessian lingered in the shadows for a handful of moments, his spatial senses once more outstretched as he tracked the young gamine inside.

Eventually the young starlets attention turned to more internal matters and she disappeared into the bathroom and Zephyr quietly entered the room. The starlets suit was somewhat more spacious than the one the elementals had taken below however beyond that the essential design was the same which proved to be quite convenient as it allowed the mercenary to swiftly locate the rooms two phones, removing the fuses from both devices before then returning them to their respective places.

It wouldn't do to be interrupted after all.

Retreating to the suites front entrance the hessian allowed himself to rest against one of the walls and exhaled as he once again called upon his gift and separated the surrounding air particles to create a vacuum within the confines of the room, effectively silencing all outside activities. Again it was a precaution which hopefully wouldn't be needed but the elemental had dealt with more than his fair share of immature and inane females to realize it was best to err on the side of caution in such circumstances.

With all obvious avenues of interruption dealt with there was little left to do than announce his presence. After taking a moment to withdraw a slim envelope containing the approved citizenship documents from the briefcase Zephyr cleared his throat and spoke.

"Ms. Olos? Are you here?"

Maxine had knocked politely. And again. And a third time. That... pleasant woman was ignoring her. Either that, or...

The red head glanced furtively up and down the hall, then pressed her ear to the door. Silence. No TV being turned up louder; no laughter as she let her guards in on her little leave-the-mutie-in-the-hall joke; no busy starlet on her cell phone.

Maxine glanced around again, and slowly crouched down. She pressed a hand into the lush hallway carpet; it gave readily, opening up a respectable crack between door edge and floor. With a thought, she gave Poe the order: the black pen alit from its shared perch with Polly, and slipped into the room. The search was on. Poe would make a quick flight up to the ceiling, and start its silent search for the familiar notebook.

If Ms. Olos was in the bathroom or, on a glorious twist of luck, already in bed, then she stood a chance of getting it back without any fuss.

Zephyr sighed and glanced through another email on his phone as he waited for Olos to calm down. She hadn't reacted well to his sudden appearance in her abode and despite the elementals urgings that she examine the documents he had to offer the young starlet had instead attempted to call her agent and the mindless muscle which accompanied him in order to have the hessian evicted from her presence.

Her mood had not improved when she realized the phones had ceased to work, and a trace of fear and entered her actions as she repeatedly attempted to get the devices to function. It had been quite dull really, but at least she hadn't screamed; as silver linings went it wasn't the most notable but it was better than nothing.

A stray thought abruptly tugged at the mercenary's attention, more of a subtle annoyance than an actual idea really, as his mind caught an unnatural flux in the air behind him. Almost as though something had passed behind him, yet the disturbance wasn't the right size for an insect, so what could it possibly have caused it? Extending his senses slightly the hessian focused briefly on the figure who had been standing outside the door for the past few minutes, the outline suggested a woman, a rather persistent woman, who refused to recognize she wasn't getting in. Could she possibly have-

"W-What do you want?"[/color]

The elementals attention swiftly redirected itself back to the young starlet before him, she looked somewhat shaken and was standing rather defensively behind the bed but she appeared to have finally collected her wits enough to at least listen to his offer. Perhaps this could be concluded in a civil manner after all.

"I already told you Ms. Olos, I am only here to make you an offer, not to hurt you." 'I haven't been paid enough for that.' "Now if you would simply look through these papers perhaps we can proceed?

The black pen hung motionlessly in the air just above the doorway. Then, with a slight twist of its cap, it began a zigzagging flight over the first room. An entryway. The high heels neatly placed outside of the closet door were of no interest; the closet itself was likewise ignored. To a pen outside of Maxine’s visual guidance, a closed door was simply four lines cut into an otherwise solid wall. It moved further inwards, to the comfortable sitting area. Couch. Chair. Chair. Chair. Table. Pad!

The pad was not Maxine’s pad. It was too thin, and not at all scribbled over. Next to it was a white pen of low ink quality. Nonetheless, Poe welcomed it with a cap twirl when it rose up to join its animated brethren.

The flock of two entered the next room. Here were people. Two people. Poe hesitated only briefly before continuing its search. People rarely looked up, Maxine had taught it. Their flocks were not observant. Not like Poe’s flock. Poe’s flock was a very smart flock. Even if one half of them were of lesser ink quality.

Paranoia, in its basic form, is more of a hindrance in modern life than a benefit; it evokes illogical suspicion and causes ones attention to jump from object to object as the mind assess all possible threats. In a modern metropolis possessing innumerable variables such a disposition will likely only lead to something close to a nervous breakdown or death.

When one is capable of summoning localized hurricane force winds however a certain amount of self confidence generally follows as result. Such inner resolution provides a perfect defense against instinctual paranoia, in effect watering the emotion until it becomes a quiet, but pertinent, voice of caution acting as a tocsin against carelessness.

Zephyr had often found these silent caveats rather useful when undergoing more, delicate assignments such as the one currently occupying his time. The initial displacement of air originating from the suits entrance had already caused a measure of the hessians attention to deviate from his present conversation with Ms. Olos in order to monitor the marginal movements of air particles within the room. This did not however place any significant strain on the discussion as the woman had still to collect herself and, in any case was finally glancing through the contents of the proffered folder.

There was something hovering by the table directly behind him.

"T-These are citizenship papers, for my parents."[/color]

"That is correct, my clients are able and willing to expedite the citizenship process for your parents in exchange for you compliance with a certain proposal. That being said, my clients can also do the reverse should you decline their proposal."

No, make that two something now hovering near the ceiling; each of them thin, cylindrical and tapered at one end into a dull point.

"What proposal?"[/color]

The girl wasn't stammering anymore, this was a definite improvement. Now if only she'd cease cowering behind the bed he could conceivably pretend he was participating in a cordial conversation. Not, it should noted, a private conversation; the odd items hidden behind the archway just before the main room rather spoilt any chance of that. Still though, even if it is censored somewhat the show must go on.

"You've become quite popular Ms. Olos, whether you realize it or not your words influence a good number of individuals. My clients are merely seeking an... endorsement of sorts."

Before the mercenary could proceed to elucidate however the young starlet's lips opened to interject, a question poised on the tip of her tongue only to be rapidly discarded as a shrill shriek filled the silenced confines of the suit accompanied by much gesticulating towards the air above the mercenary's head.

A brief explanation is perhaps required at this point. In general most establishments which offer lodgings tend to decorate their accommodations with light, neutral colours, all too often this results in beige walls and ceilings. Therefore, unless one is colour blind their eyes will immediately be drawn to any moving object which clashes with such a dull decorations. From her vantage point behind the bed Ms. Olos' visual range extended to the ceiling directly behind Zephyr and thus easily spotted the ebony biro, if not it's ivory counterpart.

In contrast to the wide eyed starlet Zephyr failed to display any obvious emotion of surprise or shock, instead the hazel haired elemental merely sighed as he stared upwards at the two floating pens. Even though he'd been tracking their progress almost since they'd entered the suit the hessian had been hopeful the biros wouldn't cause any interruptions. Clearly this was not going to be the case.

With his hands still resting in his pockets the azure eyed mercenary swiftly crafted a mild downdraft which robbed the hovering instruments of their height and rapidly brought them down below the hessians eye level, at just the right point to be within convenient snatching distance. However the descending stationary proved somewhat more agile than the elemental expected and he succeeded in only grasping the white pen as its black counterpart rapidly rose to the safety of the ceiling once more.

Giving the alabaster biro a cursory examination as it struggled in his hand the elemental remarked almost idly. "It seems we have uninvited guests, excuse me a moment."

Poe was clearly an unhappy pen. It circled and veered, its path the embodiment of agitation. Below it, the pen of white plastic struggled against the hand that held it, its cap frantically twisting.

Maxine’s sense for office supplies was not sight or hearing; the closest parallel was touch. She knew ceiling heights from how high the pens went; she knew doorways from the spaces where they veered in their flight for no perceptible reason.

She knew a mutant attacker from the way both pens suddenly changed from a meandering horizontal flight path to a rapid vertical descent. For a human to cause that same effect in this situation would be nearly impossible. Someone had caught them, and that someone was every bit as genetically gifted as the young red head. Poe seemed to escape for the moment; the wild pen didn’t. And now it was coming this way, with Poe still looping in nervous pursuit.

She’d never make it to the stairwell or into the elevators. The other doors on this floor would all be locked. Maxine, therefore, did the only reasonable thing: she slipped her pepper spray out of her purse and behind her back, and waited at the door with a cherubic smile.

Mutant abilities come in all shapes and sizes, from crimson toned juggernauts to petite doll animators, rapacious vampires to woman literally capable of bringing their drawing to life. In short no matter how great your imagination may be there will be a mutation for every aberrant idea which makes its way through your head no matter how irregular or deviant your thoughts may be. Therefore it is always advisable to retain an open frame of mind when dealing with a new ability; just because something appears to be harmless does not necessarily make it so.

Just as every rose has its thorns, every mutation has its edge, though admittedly some are duller than others.

With the struggling pen still in his grasp Zephyr walked with a measured step towards suits the entrance with his spatial senses focused upon the patch of space just beyond the locked door. He had felt the woman shift when he'd first begun to head her way and for a moment the hessian thought she would run, yet the girl stood her ground which suggested a number of things, many of them unlikely. Still that was no reason not be to be prudent, he was conducting a delicate business deal after all and it wouldn't do to have the situation get out of hand.

One of the convenient things about hotel doors in circumstances such as this is the slim loop of metal attached to the frame which acts as a form of safety catch, allowing a door to be opened only a handful of inches; just wide enough to extend, say, a slender hand and present a twitching white biro clutched firmly between thumb and forefinger. An ideal course of action... if one wanted to break a limb
Instead Zephyr took a moment to shift the shell of silence he'd placed over the suite and then opened the door to the allotted amount of space and spared a moment to glance down at the young redhead on the other side. The girl seemed innocuous enough despite the forced smile which coated her lips, the expression put the elemental in mind of a wallmart greeter whose shift had gone on one hour too long.

He neglected to open the door any further. Instead he simply flicked the struggling white biro through the narrow gap and watched with half an eye as it swiftly righted itself and began hovering towards the unknown girl.

"I take it this is your doing? I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stop; you're distressing Ms. Olos."

A clear blue eye, short brown hair that looked thoroughly touchable, and a face well within acceptable age bounds looked out through the thinly cracked door with all the personality of a cardboard box. He did have a British accent, though. That was definitely a point in his favor.

Now was not the time to consider her dating options.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the red head said, “but Ms. Olos accidentally took something that belonged to me. I’m simply here to get it back; really, I’d rather be quick. There are people waiting for me back down stairs, after all. Wouldn’t want them to come up looking for me.”

The intern had a hard time believing that Flicky here was any more of a dear friend to the actress than she was. She’d be sure to tell the police that, just as soon as she was out of here. With her notebook.

Zephyr regarded the redheads shallow perfidious smile with a roll of his eyes and weary sigh. The hessian had long ago come to accept that nothing in life was ever simple yet the continued complications in his life never ceased to annoy him. In retrospect though this little loose end was rather tame; the girl appearance was smart but casual, nothing more than office attire really and that, along with her poorly sugared whining, was enough for the elemental to reasonably conclude that the soubrette was a character of little overall importance.

In theory that gave the azure eyed mercenary a wealth of options for dealing with the green eyed gamine, in practice however his choices were somewhat more limited. Killing her at this stage didn't even bear consideration, it would only create more work in the long run and he hadn't been paid enough for the extra effort it would entail.

Rendering the woman comatose was a possibility, if still somewhat extreme, however he'd need somewhere to conceal her body if he wished to avoid any undue attention and the number of variables in the hotel made finding such a hiding place in limited time rather impractical.

Bribing was another option but the hessian was miserly be nature and thus loathe to part with his own money for such a minor annoyance. Besides the redhead didn't seem the type to simply walk off quietly. No, best at this point to simply play along and convince the redhead that it was in her best interests to just walk away.

"Be that as it may, it is getting rather late and Ms. Olos is somewhat... preoccupied, at the moment. If you tell me what the item is I will see that it is turned over to the front desk and you can retrieve it in the morning, Ms...?"

Personality of flaking drywall: minus one. Well practiced condescending gaze: mmm, plus one. Potential assailant to the far too silent anti-mutant actress: shut up, libido.

“Csendes,” the red head supplied sweetly. “Maya Csendes.”

The name was nothing: the lie feel easily off her lips. It was simply the first one that came to mind. Since the recent neural attack, the Wolf News intern squad had been sicced on investigating every store, apartment, and back-alley remotely close to the supposed epicenter. The woman’s quaint little neutral ground bookstore was one of Maxine’s allotted targets, though not a very likely one. Nothing on her list was: all the juicy leads had been entrusted to the senior reporters. She had to content herself with poking at peaceful bookstores and mutant-run medical clinics. Ones owned by a certain Mr. Csendes, incidentally. The two petite, pale-skinned, white-haired mutants looked so perfect together that even seeing their photos side by side on her desk made her gag.

“The item in question is a red notebook, about this big,” she mimed a pad the size of an index card. “Spiral bound at the top. If you’d turn it over now, I’m sure we could all avoid the hassle of middle-men. You look like a man who doesn’t appreciate interlopers.” Smile, smile.

Hand over the notebook, like a good little snotty Brit boy, so the nice reporting intern could go call the police. The best part about anonymous calls? If this turned out to be nothing but a torrid tryst, she’d get to send the police in on dear Ms. Olos’ hypocrisy, and she’d get to report on it, too.

"Csendes, Maya Csendes. "[/color]

Zephyr's expression froze for a split second as the false name registered in his ears and his mind rapidly processed the implications; most evident of course was the fact that the girl had no proper business being here otherwise she would have had no need to make use of an alias. The use of the particular name the gamine had chosen worried the elemental somewhat; Ghost was one of the few individuals the hessian had established a companionable rapport with, the odds of her name being selected simply at random were.. unlikely, at best.

That left the unpleasant possibility that it had been dropped on purpose.

As the unwanted soubrette rattled off a brief deception of the item she was apparently seeking Zephyr listened with only half an ear as he found himself reflexively re-examining his environment, swiftly scanning for any malapropos displacements in the surrounding air. He focused his awareness down halls both above and below and gave all nearby rooms a cursory sweep, yet aside from the remaining pen pestering Olos nothing immediately called his attention, the girl was alone.

"...You look like a man who doesn't appreciate interlopers."[/color]

The elemental's eyes narrowed slightly, if one were paranoid that final line could easily be construed as a threat and though there was such a thing as a bluff Zephyr found himself unwilling to take chances at this point and so he turned his spatial senses towards the redhead herself, focusing upon the petite space she occupied. A vague outline of the soubrette swiftly assembled itself in the mercenary's mind as he tested the tractability of the girl's form with nothing more than a minute increase in air pressure to bring the mental simulacrum into sharper relief. With the exception of a small canister hidden behind her back the green eyed gamine was unarmed.

He exhaled, swiftly turning the action into another weary sigh.

The second scan had taken just less than the time needed for a cursory glance from head to toe and so Zephyr was able to respond without more than a momentary pause in the conversation. "How astute, however I'm afraid I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request. Now, would you like to give me your real name or should I inform hotel management that they have an unwanted guest?"