It was late in the evening, and the parties were in full swing. Egg nog was being passed around, spiked with brandy of course, and voices were cheerful and boisterous. Christmas music blared over the speakers in some parties, others were more sophisticated with Jazz, and this particular party in the ballroom of the Mariot was hoppin' with the sound of Layla, the voice that was high in demand amongst the blue bloods. Outward appearances would show this rising star to be happy and glad to be doing what she was doing. She was adored, popular, and mysterious because not one person knew her story.

She would be on stage normally, but she was tired and didn't have it in her to sing for the masses. She barely listened to the snobbish voices of the rich and famous, barely heard the announcement of the success that this fundraiser was having at the moment. It was all for the kids, blah blah, poor, hungry kids who didn't have Christmas gifts. Bah, humbug, whatever. Not that she didn't understand the plight of these poor children, but she didn't understand why the rich and famous thought it would help them become more famous...

Layla/Xavia was damn bored. The crowd was too loud, the smell of purfume and calogne was too strong, and she wanted to go to sleep... Not in the stupid suite that was in a neighboring hotel, but a real bed in a real home, with people who actually cared, and could tell her stories of the past that didn't involve Fifi, Mimi, or Paris. Good god, when would it end?

Somebody was talking to her in that plastic whine of theirs, complaining about the cost of a nose job and how they had to go down to Mexico to get it done cheaper... What a freakin miser, she thought. She gave a stiff smile and nodded absently to the blonde, and then excused herself. She said her goodbye to the host of the party, who was supposedly sad that she was leaving so early and to come back later for something more private, which was also declined politely... She exited stage right, the bellhop eagerly placed her faux fur on her shoulders, and she was on her way out the door.

Glitz and glam was bull. She ignored her awaiting limo and walked down the sidewalk.

It was a mild night, thankfully, she didn't really need her coat, though she wore it anyways. She walked at a sedate pace, calming down as she breathed in the rank air of New York City... Her mouth curved upward for real this time, and she contemplated never going back to the suite again if it meant she could be free to walk around like this. This is what she liked... Not all that... Nonsense in the hotel.

The young woman took a left, not really caring if she got lost or not. It was New York, all she would have to do is lift her hand and hail a cab if she wanted to find her way back to reality. It didn't matter where she walked, or even if she was ruining her hem with the grime on the streets... And she didn't have a problem with the world anymore, she was just... Free...

At least... Until an arm looped around her throat in usual New York style, and a gruff male voice chimed in her ear, "B**CH! Gimme your money!" Gah, and there went her reverie. Stupid, stupid muggers. She could feel the sharp point of the knife against her flesh, and nearly gagged at the scent of her attacker. She gave a heavy sigh and held still, except to reach into her purse...

"Slowly now..."

She contemplated going for the mase, but grabbed the hundred or so that she had in her purse. She felt sorry for the man, really... "I'll do what you ask, just loosen up, k?" she said, not really afraid. She wasn't defenseless, of course, but she didn't want to fight unless she absolutely must...

One of the problems with being a police officer, no matter the division that you work in, is the charity gigs. When it comes around the time for the holidays, the precincts always look for “volunteers” to force to partake in them. This past Halloween, Jorge Cervantes, detective of the Mutant Related Crimes unit, had to dress up and join the massive party that was being held at central park. That had gone well. And here he was, once more participating in the holiday cheer that New York had to offer.

Heading down the sidewalk, ready to attend the Children’s Hospital Fundraiser being held at the Marriot came a figure dressed head to toe in red. The big red coat with white, fur lining seemed to shout holiday cheer as heavy black boots crunched the tiny gravel on the sidewalk. A large belly, obviously padding to fit the costume swayed as he walked protruded his boat a tiny bit and blocked the view of his faux-gold buckled boots. A white glove hand then reached up and adjusted to thick, curly white beard that blew tiny hairs between his lips whenever he opened his mouth to breath. And on top of all that…sat the brilliant red hair, with the tiny white ball of fluff and bell at the point that constantly rang whenever he made a single step.

Jorge Cervantes…detective…was now Santa Claus.

“There has to be an easier way to get these charity gigs done,” he muttered as he walked on down the sidewalk.

Unfortunately the detective had been wrangled into a double whammy. First he had to donate his car, his precious Chevy Impala for the Meals on Wheels for tonight. That was not so harsh. He could live with the fact that his car was going to be used for community service. But the costume? Really? So far Jorge had terrible luck with costumes and white beards in general.

He was only glad that Gemma was not around to see this. He’d never live it down.

But, as he turned into one of the more less traveled sidewalks, he paused at the sight. It seemed that a young woman, rather elegantly dressed for walking the streets, was in the process of being mugged. He shook his head as he mumbled about not bringing his gun. Why should he have? It was a charity event! Thankfully at least he had his badge and a spare pair of handcuffs he always carried with him. Even in costume.

Seeing that there was no one to help out and noting that the man had his back to him, Jorge snuck forward, and spied the knife to the woman’s throat. That was definitely not a good sign. He would have to work with surprise on his side. So carefully he removed the jangly hat from his head and set it aside before he crept forward. He reached out and immediately felt the water as it surged from a broken pipe out in the alley. At least he could count on New York for having plenty of leaky pipes around. A twitch of his hand and the waters slowly obeyed and snaked forward subtly on the ground. He got as close as he could to be in range and suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs.

“NYPD! Drop your weapon!” Just as the man would turn to face him, Jorge lashed out with the snaking coils of water from the gutters. Just enough to strike the man’s eyes and distract him for the police detective to move in.

Alexandra Kettler wanted to throw up from all the cheerfulness going on around her. Holidays. Worst time of the year. She sighed, dropping the fork on her plate next to the almost untouched food. It was hard not to hear the chatter going on around her - and everything resumed to Christmas presents, parties and the such. Yeah. She definitely wanted to throw up.

After the last years Christmas - spent in the camps, with a revengeful guard as her present, Alexandra was sure she wouldn't feel the holiday joy anytime soon. She looked around the restaurant - it was tastefully decorated, the waiters all had smiling faces, red and white uniforms and even the unmistakable Santa Claus hats.

Rolling her eyes, she pushed the plate away and decided it was time to leave. She'd worked until the evening, she was tired and she didn't have the patience to deal with this.

After paying and retrieving her coat, Alexandra exited the restaurant. She looked across the street - at Marriott. The holiday spirit was even more present there. Good thing she didn't pick their restaurant. At least the one she'd picked wasn't that flamboyant. Alexandra started to walk - her car was parked a few blocks away and this was the reason she often found herself thinking 'I hate NY.' Well, actually any big city. At least she knew some shortcuts.

Dangling her keys, Alexandra moved into some darker alleys, looking absent minded at the surrounding areas. Perhaps, if not for the sound of metal hitting concrete, she wouldn't have even noticed the man dressed in black partially hidden in the darkness of an alley. The man who now swore pretty loud while nervously fighting with the garbage can he'd toppled over.

With an arched eyebrow, Alexandra continued to move watching the man slightly amused. It took him some while to even hear the clicking of her shoes. He turned, looking dumbly at her, as if not knowing what to do. In the end, he looked to the side. Alexandra followed his stare and saw what she assumed to be his partner assaulting another woman. Le sigh.

With the same dumb stare, he looked back at Alexandra who had now stopped. A few seconds later, he was pointing a knife at her. "Uhmmm... give me your money." Right. Now every retard called himself a thief. Straight-faced, Alexandra looked at the knife. Then at the nervous attacker. She extended her hand and in the next second she was holding the knife while the man was pathetically waving an empty hand at her. Smirking, she nodded toward the knife in her hand. Poor kid looked shocked. "I suggest you run. Really fast." Nothing. Still locked into place, still looking stupid.

"Boo."

And he was gone. Considering the speed at which he disappeared, Alexandra swore that he had a good chance of winning the Olympic Games. She looked over to her side where the other man was assaulting another woman. She pondered interfering. She wasn't a hero to do things like saving the innocent. But there was this nagging feeling that she should go there.

She shook her head and started to move deeper inside the dark alley. And just as she was a few feet away, just stepping away from the darkest shadows around, then came the shout.

“NYPD! Drop your weapon!”

Alexandra looked up, unable to retain a giggle.

Santa Claus was saving the damsel in distress. Some night this was. She shook her head while moving to be fully visible and she crossed her arms, blocking the attacker's escape route. "Let her go. You have nowhere to run and your partner ran away a few moments ago." Blue eyes shifted to Santa again. And she smirked. NYPD. No wonder the number of criminals was sky-rocketing.

“Waste.” was all the girl that walked out of the back alley bar said as she stopped a moment to light up a cigarette. She took a quick puff before pulling it away from her face and letting out a deep breath. The things would kill her, she knew, but when you lived the kind of life she did it was either that or drinking. Or drugs, but the idea of drugs slightly disgusted Ashley. The only one she'd even consider was the green stuff, and that was only because it was all natural.

She shook her head as if to make her current line of thinking go away. What did it matter? She looked back to the bar, aptly named 'The Back of the Road', and snorted. Domino was no help, but his usefulness in any information was drying up quickly. She paid him though, but only because she was taught to be truthful, honest. She realized quickly that such characteristics could get one killed quickly down in a place like this but she wasn't one to compromise her morals because her environment was slightly hostile. Her surrogate father wouldn't, and neither would she.

She quickly pulled on her headphones, feeling the music that was still playing surge through her. She liked the subtle change in her power whenever a song changed, and loved having the iPod that was connected directly to her oversized headphones on random, as opposed to whatever playlist she had set directly to one that corresponded with her powers. Right now it was speed, "Calling" by Takeharu Ishimoto blared loudly as she surrounded herself with the music she loved so much. She stuffed her hands into her trenchcoat and began to walk down the alley to the street, intent on going back to her crappy 'apartment' and going to sleep.

She stopped only when she got near to the end of the alley. Gray eyes observed the drama being played out before her and immediately her instincts told her that maybe she should just turn around and walk away. After all, the one the mugger was holding onto seemed to be one of them rich types, so she probably had money to spare. The guy that was next to the actual mugger was obviously his partner, though he looked more scared then a street hardened criminal probably should.

The Santa Clause that appeared, on the other hand, made the young woman blink a few times before she heard him identify himself as NYPD. Instinctively she took a step back. Police and her...well, in her short time in New York City it was made readily apparent that they wouldn't get along.

But...hm.

Judging from how things were looking, Ashley did the only thing she could do at the moment and sidestepped behind one of New York's oversized trash bins and watched as the Santa Cop grabbed up some water (?) and used it to splash the guys face right after identifying himself as a officer of the law. Cheap trick, she thought, but one did what one had to do. She knew all about that. Ashley turned stormy eyes to the partner and blinked again.

Another woman seemed to just materialize on the scene, making the partner of the mugger who was holding the other woman hostage run away in a flash. It all happened quickly, efficiently, it almost seemed like the entire thing was planned. The guy was white as a sheet and, by the looks of it, had peed his pants in fear. Ashley looked back to the woman with a cocked eyebrow. She looked as if she was someone who was used to being obeyed...well, that was what her body language was telling Ashley at that very moment, and it was yet another reason that her instincts were telling the redhead to run away. It wasn't like the woman being mugged looked scared. Hell, she almost looked BORED, even after Santa had distracted the mugger away from her.

But the partner was running to her location and, figuring that if she had to spend the night in jail she would at least be warm (her apartment had no heat) and she would be fed (she had no money), she stepped out and caught him with a quick left hook to the face, not hard enough to knock him back but hard enough to daze him a bit, making his head jerk as he took a step back. He regained his balance quickly, though made the mistake of looking back to the woman that scared him. Ashley frowned at the apparent show of disrespect; he feared someone who didn't even do anything over her, the one who just punched him in the face!! With a growl she took a quick step forward, almost gliding thanks to her music still playing “Calling” and grabbed the man in a Muay Thai clinch before bringing a knee up to his chest with as much force as she could muster. The man stumbled back again and had only time to blink a few times before his world when dark after a knee kick hit him directly in the face. Ashley stood there for a moment, fists still up before she slowly put them down when she realized the guy wasn't going to get up again.

“Waste.” she muttered again.

At first, it had seemed like everything was moving super slow, yanno, like when you go to do a replay of a football game, and you want to see if someone actually fumbled or something? Yeah, it was like that, and Layla/Xavia was calm the whole time. She understood, for some reason. Perhaps in her prior life, she had gone without. Needless to say, what happened next seem to speed things up by threefold. One second there was a knife at her throat, the next, it was gone and a tiny trickle of blood was left in its wake from a surprised mugger. He hadn't meant to actually cut her, but she could feel the warm drip of vitae against her throat and possibly ruining the faux fur around her shoulders.

She felt suddenly overdressed, too, all decked out in her evening clothes... The green of her sheath-like evening gown seemed a bit overstated compared to the... Santa Clause suit that she saw as soon as she turned to face the person who just rescued the damsel in distress... And the woman who appeared in normal clothes... and... Oh gosh, another person who just entered the fray. Wait, two muggers? What the deuce?

In any case, she stood there dumbfounded and watched as there was more trouble than really needed on her behalf. Part of her was mad, but she had no energy to yell at those people who were helping her. The other part was eternally grateful that there weren't all a bunch of bloody savages in this town. But what to do, what to do? she thought to herself in question as she stared stupidly at the goings on around her, her mouth slightly agape. Blam, boom, pow... Splash? Wait, what? Say that again?

Xavia shook her head then, clearing the cobwebs, and did a Spiderman like move with some vines shooting from her wrists, wrapping around the mugger who had his attention on the Santa Cop at the moment. The plants tangled around his feet first, and then coiled around his upper body, and she tugged with all her might. Yeah, she wasn't defenseless, but she was just going to save herself the trouble and give the guy some money. Yeah... But people got involved. And now she had to do something to help too. Right?

Her head was hurting too much to think clearly, and the voices of those who were yelling seemed way too distant. The old wound on the back of her head hurt like the dickens, and for a moment, she wavered and thought she was going to pass out. The moment she realized she was about to fall over, the feel of the vines tightened and the mugger went down, and the vines broke off with a snap, and an "OUCH!" was heard from below as they whipped at the would be crooks face.

She then took a step back, rocking on her heels, and shook her head to clear the cobwebs again, blood trickling onto her bodice and staining the expensive silk beyond repair. Her jewelry was also screwed. What a night. She brought her hand up to her throat and then out in front of her face, and she blinked as she stared at the crimson that coated her finger tips... At least she wouldn't die from such a little scratch.

Xavia looked from person to person again, first Santa, then headphones girl, and then Circe... Especially that one.... Those eyes, she thought... So blue... Slightly familiar, but where did she know them from? The singer squinted and stared, trying to look closer, but she didn't recognize the woman who owned those bright blues. No, she didn't know any of these people. "Um..." she uttered when she could speak, "Thanks..."

Everything seemed to happen at the exact same time. First he had stumbled upon the woman being mugged, then another mugger appeared, apparently being scared off by a very familiar person, and now there was a woman here with large headphones. Oh…and vines had come out of the victim’s hands! At first Jorge really had no idea what to do, dressed in his Santa outfit as he watched the scene unfold. The mugging victim had managed to take care of the attacker herself when she knocked him over with vines, and now she had apparently harmed herself in the process.

Normally all this madness would have been too much, but since he worked for the MRC, it was not something entirely new to him. One of those things you need to watch out for is the unexpected and this vine whipping woman was definitely part of the unexpected.

When he saw her go down, the detective was quick to crouch down next to her, not really paying much attention to the other two visitors or the fallen muggers. Quickly he produced the single pair of handcuffs he had on hand and cuffed the mugger that this planet lady had managed to take down, all the while reciting to him his Miranda Rights. As soon as that was done, he moved over to her and noticed the blood on her neck.

>> "Um...Thanks..."

Quickly he pulled off the fake mop of white hair and beard and tossed them aside. He smirked a little reassuringly. “Hey, it’s no problem. Are you okay? Do you require medical assistance?” He already had his phone in hand and was in the process of calling for backup to arrest the two muggers. As he pressed speed dial, he glanced up and noted the woman with the piercing blue eyes. He recognized those eyes, as well as the sharp voice. He narrowed his eyes a bit in recognition, “I remember you.” was all he said as he then turned to second woman with the headphones and gave her a nod for her assistance in stopping one of the muggers. He would still have to question her about what she was doing there, but for now he was thankful for the help.

Everything happened so fast. Not a surprise in the world she lived in. Alexandra dully noted the fact that a fourth had a appeared on the scene, taking (good) care of the attacker she had dealt with earlier. As the victim had decided to take care of her attacker (and Alexandra wondered why she didn't do that before), Alexandra found herself narrowing her eyes. The powers looked familiar. And now, that she looked behind the fancy evening wear and make-up, she recognized the woman. Twice she had seen her in her life, but never she had seen her so flashy.

Her mind was slowly drifting away to the brief moments they'd shared on the plane, an year ago. Alexandra remembered connecting both the woman and her partner with the Kabal. Was she in a mission at the moment? Looking at the two muggers then back at the woman, she was tempted to believe that the answer was no. Tilting her head to the side, she looked at the woman paying more attention to her features. Yes, indeed she was familiar. And Alexandra had noticed the brief flash of recognition in the woman's eyes. Hmmm.

Moments later, Alexandra found herself to be distracted as Santa had removed the fake hair and beard and looked at her with narrowed eyes. Yet another familiar figure. Too familiar, that is.

“I remember you.”

Alexandra flashed a quick smile. She remembered him too. "I remember you, too. And it's not from when you came down the chimney to drop presents." The last part was said in a lower tone. Still, she couldn't retain a smile. As the man became busy with calling for back-ups, Alexandra looked over to the fourth person - curious if it was another familiar face. When she realized this one was someone she didn't know, Alexandra gave the redhead a quick nod as well, then looked back at the familiar woman.

Where was she? Oh yes. Her name. Moving a step to the side, she looked into her eyes, lowering her voice. "Xavia. Are you ok?"

Well now.

It hadn't been all THAT long since she's arrived in New York City but Ashley Aran, before tonight, could count on one hand how many mutants she'd actually seen. Sure, she'd see them on the news or whatever, but not up and close, and never actually talked to them. But in the span of a few moments she'd seen a mutant cop dressed as Santa Claus manipulate water somehow and a woman, refined and looking like one of the rich snobs she hated so much shoot vines from her hands. Vines!! It took the young streetrat a moment to clear her head and, when she decided the images weren't going to go away, hastened the process by shaking it fiercely.

No, it was all still in front of her.

She marveled how something like this could happen right out in the open, as if such a thing were an everyday occurrence. But then again she was new to the place and these people probably lived here all their lives and probably saw this kinda stuff all the time. None of them looked very surprised at the actions that just occurred, and the Santa Cop was taking down the mugger and helping the woman without any of the discrimination she'd heard that mutants usually get. Well, he wouldn't, being one himself, but then again...

She watched the scene play out, reading lips and body language. She wanted to get better at the latter, but she wasn't improving much since she didn't know what to look for. But her lip reading came in handy in figuring out that somehow, in some way, these three people knew each other. At least the Santa Cop knew the blue eyes woman, who knew the woman that had been mugged. The redhead raised a delicate looking eyebrow at that. What were the odds, really, of something like that happening?

Whistler had always told her life was a funny thing, a sentiment she never really understood because she really had no past to speak of. Whenever he said it, Ashley would just shrug. She would merely take his word for it, brushing off the saying because, well, it never really pertained to her. Not anymore, anyways. But now, seeing this drama play out before her, she understood, at least a little better, what her surrogate father was talking about. Truly life was a funny thing if four random mutants, three of which were connected somehow, could just bump into each other on a random street corner, three to save one woman from two muggers.

She almost (almost!) let out a chuckle before she watched the blue eyed woman speak to the cop, then to the other woman. Indeed her eyes were a striking blue. She'd seen blue eyes, of course, but nothing like these. It seemed as if those eyes froze you in place with a look, chips of sapphire mixed with the white-blue chill of a glacier. It was almost as if a mere moment of displeasure from this woman would freeze your very blood, just with those eyes! The thought made Ashley avert her own smoky gray orbs; this woman was a mutant, then, her reaction to the Santa Cop and the vines made that readily apparent. Almost as if she were watching court jesters perform mere parlor tricks.

Ashley's eyes glided down, then, simply to avoid those eyes...

...to the tone figure that seemed to be poured into the dress she wore. Unbidden Ashley felt her cheeks warm up a bit as she stared a bit longer then appropriate, taking a moment to swallow before she averted her eyes again. It was then, of course, that a habit of hers sprang up when regarding people of interest. She was no great shakes at remembering things, you see. She tried a few times, back when Whistler was teaching her the basics of math but she long since gave up trying to remember all that crap and instead trained her memory on one thing; a person's body type, and how fast she could take them down. It was useful, usually, when fighting people she didn't know or had time to analyze. But now...well...

'Slim, curvy...a bit feminine, not likely a fighter. Toned abs, strong legs. 5'2”, decent reach. Strong arms, though, not too muscular but the feeling is there. Weighed one twenty, give or take. She takes much pride in her appearance, though from the looks of it the most she does is dress up or maybe put on makeup; she barley has to workout to maintain the figure she has. One of the lucky ones. Overall; she wouldn't last long in a fist fight, not with me. But this one probably had other ways to conquer her foes.'

Eyes climbed up the woman again, the gray orbs resting on the stomach for a moment before the ample chest. Her eyes widened a bit and she blinked, rapidly, to try and make herself look away and finally managed to do it...almost a minute later. By now her face was at a full flush and she felt thoroughly embarrassed by her crass actions, despite no one else noticing (she hoped). Needing to make up for this by doing SOMETHING, Ashley decided to take a step forward (as opposed to the several hundred her mind was screaming at her to take BACK) right up to the scene she was watching moments earlier.

“You're...mutants?” she said, immediately regretting the decision to talk. She hated how she spoke, but Whistler always said it was part of her charm, which was yet another thing she would never understand. Who would think broken speaking was charming?! Still, she looked over the three in attendance with something bordering fascination. “I'm too. I...ummm...” She struggled for the right words for a moment, putting a pointer finger to her lips while looking down. She then brightened up as she took off her headphones, music still blaring loudly (“I'd Start a Revolution” by Aimee Allen) as she held them out, pointing to them. “I get stronger. When listening.”

As to emphasize her words she flexed, then stopped as she saw the blank stares she was getting. Okay, perhaps she didn't need to flex, but at least she felt fully redeemed in her idiotic actions now as opposed to her slightly perverse ones earlier. She reached to the iPod attached to her headphones and paused the music before looking down to the Vine Woman.

“You...okay?”

God she hated how she spoke.

Everything was fine, she thought as she regarded the scene before her. Just fine. Her eyes stared for a moment at the vine wrapped man while the Santa Cop called for his back up and what not, and she said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Thank you again for your help... I was just... going to give him the money, I don't need it really. He must need it more than I do if he is trying to rob me." No, giving him the money wouldn't have righted the situation, but she thought it would have been the right thing for her to do. He deserved to be arrested, yes, but hungry? At least... That is what she hoped he was robbing her for, and not something stupid like drugs or whatever. Obviously she wasn't defenseless, but she was grateful for the assistance, really.

First she looked to the one with the blue eyes, the one who seemed most familiar to her, though she couldn't get even a mere glimmer of memory for. "I suppose you must know me, but I am sorry for not knowing you. Please call me Layla. I don't know Xavia. I know she is me, and I am her, and... Your eyes are so.... Familiar... But..." She gave a soft shrug and paused for awhile. The silence was somewhat heavy as she tried to figure out the right words to say to all three of them in regards to their concern. "I am... Fine, I think. I will live... It's just a silly little scratch and it didn't kill me..."

Again, she lapsed into silence, looking down at the person who had held the knife to her throat. She felt sorry for him, really, yet at the same time like she belonged in his world. As she stared at him, she thought about her situation a bit more in depth than she usually did. Granted, there were other people around her at the moment, questions being bandied about... She almost didn't hear what the headphone girl was asking... It took her a moment more of staring for it to sink into her head, and she glanced over to the female who asked such a question as she did, leveling caramels on her and focusing. Her pupils visibly adjusted themselves, contracting a little bit from the big shock.

Xavia gave a heavy sigh and straightened herself out, "Mutant is such an ugly term. Extraordinary, perhaps, is a better term to use in this situation. To call us mutants puts a stigma we need not have over our heads. But yes, I suppose I am a mutant... I cannot speak for Santa or Blue Eyes, but..." she gestured toward the already browning vines that curled around the muttering man on the ground. "I don't think I need to state the obvious about myself." The singer kind of laughed a little at herself. She then lifted her hand to the wound where the blood trickled from, and she put some pressure on it to staunch the tiny stream before she ruined her expensive dress any further. The hungarian in her accent was particularly thick as she spoke, her voice somewhat husky in it's alto tones as she crouched down and tugged the vines loose after Santa had the cuffs on him, "And you, fellow... I would have been glad to lend you a hand, but you should be nicer about it." She kinda laughed at her own quip.

When she stood back up, she glanced to the three people that surrounded, hearing the distant sirens over the clogged, New York traffic. A genuine smile was on her full lips, a series of heartfelt chuckles shaking her rounded shoulders. She wasn't being crazy, really, she was actually acting like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders, and a relevation had hit her after her intense pondering earlier. Her eyes danced with the light of cheer as she regarded her companions.

>> "I remember you, too. And it's not from when you came down the chimney to drop presents."

There was that biting tone the detective knew and tolerated. He gave the woman, whose name he still did not know, a raised brow before he turned back to the fallen woman. She was coming around, mumbling about how she could have given the man money, well as announcing that she did not know the first woman, who called her Xavia. Apparently the woman did not recognize her. Jorge had to wonder about this for a moment. I could be a simple case of mistaken identity. It happens all the time. Then again, it could always mean much, much more. But before he could delve into these issues, his call for backup had gone through.

Once he was sure that the woman was okay, he stood up and backed away a bit to call it in. The operator was prompt and replied that back up would be there momentarily. Jorge nodded as he filled in whatever other details he needed to, but kept his eyes over the group of them.

Blue Eyes he had met before in a bookstore. That was an interesting altercation but ended with them simply going off in separate directions. It was an incident he had all but forgot about until he heard her voice just now. Part of him was curious as to why she was here at this moment and intervening in a mugging. Maybe she ran about as some vigilante. What he was not sure about was whether she were gifted as a mutant as well.

Red was young and a girl he did not recognize at all. She seemed to be just as curious in the situation and even threw in a helping fist. It was dangerous for her to get involved but then she threw out she was a mutant as well. He eyed her closely. She must have been in her late teens, but why was she out here as well? She a runaway? Homeless? Maybe she just lives in the bad part of town? He did not know but he would question later.

Then….onto Leafy Greens…(why mess with the color motif he had going so far?) the woman he overheard name herself as Layla. She was the most confusing. It seemed as if she were genuinely going to give this mugger some money but then reprimanded him as she pulled leaves off his person. Her actions almost made it seem as if she were in shock over the event, the way she talked in that confused manner. Then again, maybe Blue Eyes knew what she was talking about. It was obvious that he was out of the loop here.

A screaming whirl and a flash of red and blue, and out of the corner of his eye, Jorge saw the police cruisers starting to descend down the street. Moments it would take for them to be here. He sighed as he leaned down and checked the first man’s handcuffs then leaned over to check to make the other man were still knocked out. He had to admit that Red must have had one hell of a mutant powered punch knock the man out.

Slowly he stood up and looked down at the costume that he wore. He must admit that he probably looked comical to them. A half-Santa dressed police officer trying to make serious arrests and stop muggings. He chuckled in his own mind at the vision. God he was glad that Gemma was not here.

Finally he cleared his throat as he addressed them all.

“I’m sure you all just want to forget what’s happened here, but if you would please stick around for a few minutes so that we can get your statements, I’ll get you out of here as quickly as possible.” He said.

He did not want to pry or listen in anymore on Layla’s and Blue Eyes conversation. It was private and he was not one to eavesdrop for too long. Instead he stepped partially out towards the street and awaited the back up to show up. The sooner he got those muggers into the back of a squad car, the better he’d feel. As he waited, he glanced back to the gathered group and had to marvel at the interesting curveballs that New York always seemed to throw his way.

Alexandra could honestly say that she was surprised with Xavia's... Layla's answer. For a second, her eyebrows knitted into a frown. No Kabal mission there. The woman looked sincere when telling that she didn't even remember that her name was Xavia. Alexandra mentally shrugged. She couldn't help her. She'd seen the woman twice and the words exchanged between the two were few. Besides, it wasn't like she wanted to get involved in such missions. "Okay Layla." She kept her voice and expression neutral, not wanting to show an interest that she didn't feel. Intrigued, maybe, interest, not really.

She straightened herself, just as the red head spoke. Her eyes scanned the girl - she looked surprised, as if she hadn't seen anything like this before. Vaguely, she remembered the time when she was was so easy to impress. Fortunately, that time had passed. Her attention shifted to the headphones. What did the girl say? She got stronger, when listening. That certainly explained why it had been so easy for her to take out the mugger. Interesting, really. A corner of her lips rose slightly. "I am a mutant, yes." She looked over at Xavia-Layla - the woman had displayed her powers moments ago and now that she thought about it, she was fairly certain that she'd noticed a splash of water that seemed out of place just as Santa was saving Xavia-Layla from her attacker.

Detective Cervantes, if she remembered correctly told them the police would need their statements. Alexandra groaned. Yes. Just what she needed. More time lost with stupid formalities. She shook her head as the detective turned his back and stepped away. Yes, police cars were close and would take only moments to arrive but seriously... what sort of police officer turned his back on muggers, especially when one wasn't even handcuffed? With a sigh, she motioned a part of a nearby trashcan to the mugger and produced a pair of rudimentary handcuffs that wrapped themselves around the unconscious man's wrists. Not that she really cared if he escaped or not but if he woke up and decided to run, she was fairly certain that he would try to push those in his way away. And she really, really didn't want to mess her clothes up.

Ashley watched and heard the responses and nodded to each. It was funny to her how each felt about being a mutant, as that was really all she ever knew to be called. In the end she merely shrugged and went back to thinking about how she was going to get out of the situation she was currently in. After all, she had no form of identification on her. The only thing she ever had was her ID she found in her backpack when she first lost her memory when she figured out her real name, but she had destroyed that a long time ago in a fit of anger. Back at her sorry excuse of an apartment all she had was her backpack full of clothes and stolen electronics...oh, and an apple. She was saving that for her dinner.

She got increasingly nervous as the sirens got closer and the natural instinct to run got harder to ignore. But it was mere common sense that kept her in place. Her earlier thoughts of a warm bed and a decent meal arrived yet again, reminding her that an apple was a piss poor meal and, really, the only thing she'd miss out of her backpack was her red scarf that was really long and kept her ever so warm. It also looked cool when it blew in the wind, but that was neither here nor there. The various other iPods and laptop could easily be replaced; she just needed to steal another. She looked down at her current headphones and sighed. Well, they'd take this away, and without her music she really wasn't anything special. Still, her apartment was really freakin' cold...

In all honesty, she though as she shifted from one foot to the next as she put her headphones back on (music still paused) and clasped her hands behind her back, she just wanted this all to end. She felt like an outsider at the moment, intruding into the lives of the three people in front of her who were no doubt connected somehow. A sudden gust of wind chilled her, and she unclasped her hands long enough to pull her trenchcoat around her tighter and wondered how these people, mutants or no, could stand to be outside in such weather with merely dresses.

>>“I’m sure you all just want to forget what’s happened here, but if you would please stick around for a few minutes so that we can get your statements, I’ll get you out of here as quickly as possible.”

Well, that wasn't going to happen. She almost rolled her eyes at how destiny was treating her. All she wanted was to find the mutant that ruined her life and instead ended up helping a woman out in a mugging and she was no doubt going to jail because, cop or no cop, she was sure as hell NOT going to tell him her real name. Call her uncooperative.

“Nn.” was Rhythm's only response to the Santa Cop as she looked away.

Everybody started sounding distant as they talked to her and to each other, or not at all. Xavia/Layla grew silent herself, and hugged herself a bit. Eventually, she sat on the sidewalk, no longer caring that her finery was ruined. Even dry cleaning wouldn't fix the silk sheath. Stupid parties, she thought, stupid rich folk and stupid charity functions held by people who only donated their money so they wouldn't have to pay so much taxes. Stupid black tie affairs. Her head hurt, and the world pixelated a bit off and on.

Xavia stared off for the longest time untill the time came when Santa cop mentioned sticking around, and the sound of the sirens increased in volume. She stared blankly at the Jorge, and then to the two men he was about to arrest for assault or whatever charges he would probably ask her if she wanted to press... The sirens seemed to scream by that point, and she clapped her hands over her ears with a cringe. As the squad cars came to halt with the crunching of tires, the blue and red lights whirled in a myriad of patterns and shapes against the sides of the buildings that littered the city blocks. Brick walls became painted with moving pictures and shadows, lit like the sky on the 4th of july.

When the sirens silenced, and doors began to open, Xavia felt a fearful knot form in the pit of her belly. She was starting to feel slightly clausterphobic and she didn't know why. The lounge singer unfolded and stood up, taking a few steps backwards as she watched the uniformed officers exit their vehicles and start to do their work. Both thugs were grabbed and read their Marandas. The seemingly dumber of the two was coming out of his stupor, and didn't look as bad as one would have thought. In fact, he lifted his face and stared directly at her, inteligance gleaming in his eyes. This gaze was hard to catch unless one was standing right next to her.

She blinked and leaned closer, her jaw dropping slightly and her brow furrowing as she studied the man with increased interest. She felt a bit shaken by that point, and was trying to figure out what was going on. Xavia was confused as she dragged her gaze from that of the thug, to the three who helped her, and she looked at Circe in particular as if to say, "What the hell?" The unspoken question was left suspended in the air, and it was only directed at the blue eyed one because she seemed to be the least... confused of the motely crew.

Why did he stare at her thusly? What was he about? Her mind raced with queries as she strove to solve the increasing amount of riddles that were thrown her way. Did the others notice the change in the atmosphere, or was it just the fact that they were surrounded by the strobe-like movement of the cruiser lights? Things just didn't make sense at all!

Xavia looked over to see how the girl with the headphone's was doing, but didn't notice much of anything except a slight shifting of facial expressions and body language that indicated she was uncomfortable with the current situation, but that was hard not to figure out. And then she looked back to the woman with the blue eyes. Maybe it would be good to walk up to her and ask her questions to see what she knew. But as she lifted her foot to take a step in that direction, one of the officers approached her and asked her some questions...

"Can you explain to me what happened tonight in as much detail as you can give me?" The officer seemed to look her up and down, half with sympathy, and half with the roaming gaze of any, warm blooded male. His pen was poised over his incident report, and she explained what happened, gesturing when she needed to, and then nodding or shaking her head when asked other questions.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, and her gaze kept roaming over toward the cruiser in which the second mugger had been put in. He was looking at her through the window, simply smirking at her in know it all fashion. Her hand came up to the back of her neck as she tried to focus on finishing her recounting, squeezing at the knots that started to form at the base. "Officer Santa c... I am sorry, I d... don't know his..... I don't know his name... But... but he... came and...... yeah... I.."

Jorge sighed as he looked over the scene. He was thankful for the appearance of his back up. He felt that it was going to be greatly needed tonight. Though he was thankful that he got to the scene in time, it was not without its problems. First of all, there were several new comers here, only one of which he had met before and all of which had intervened in the fight. That was going to be a mess. Nothing wrong with being a good Samaritan, but given the nature of what had happened here, more than likely everyone was going to have to come down to the precinct. He could already tell that none of them were going to look forward to that.

Once the squad cars had arrived, Jorge flashed his badge to prove he was one of them and began to converse with what had gone down. He had explained how he discovered the woman being mugged, and then the sudden appearance of the two female rescuers who managed to fight the last of the villains.

He then led them back over to the fallen men, noted that one of them had what looked like a crude pair of handcuffs on. He quickly glanced up and wondered from where those came from. It obviously was not him, but then whom? The Green Leaves? Red? Maybe Blue Eyes? He overheard her comments about being mutants so she had to have an ability too right? He wondered for a second if it was her, but then shooed the thoughts away. He would have time to think about that later.

As he helped to pull up one of the thugs and pushed them into the back of their squad car, he noticed that the officers had already gone off to start questioning them. They needed to get statements from everyone and he hoped and prayed that none of them would have to return to the precinct just to give them. Unfortunately he knew the headquarters and its need to follow procedure.

>> "Officer Santa c... I am sorry, I d... don't know his..... I don't know his name... But... but he... came and...... yeah... I.."

Jorge then intervened to hopefully make the woman feel more comfortable. He smiled reassuringly as he ushered the officer off to attend the other two women. His voice soft and meaningful, riddled with understanding, he made sure she was okay first before he pull. Carefully he took out a borrowed notepad and pen.

“Name is Jorge Cervantes…why don’t we just start at the beginning okay?” he said as he noticed her watching one of the men in the squad car. He glanced over, made no attempt to appear that he understood anything odd about his behavior. To the detective it seemed as if the perp were merely trying to give Layla a stare down to aiding his capture. He’d seen it a thousand times before. He would reassure her that it meant nothing. “Listen, you’re doing a good job, okay? Why don’t you just start from where you were tonight and how you found yourself here.?”

A sudden gust of cold air send shivers down Alexandra's spine. With a short-lived sigh, she buttoned up her coat, wishing to be at home, in front of a warm fire, a cup of tea clasped in her hands, and, perhaps enjoying a good movie or book. Her hands slipped into her pockets, a grimace on her face as the sirens had gotten much more louder, much more disturbing. By the looks of it, her opinion was shared by the two females. Only Santa Cop looked vaguely happy about it.

She looked over at Xavia-Layla, as she pushed herself up at the arrival of the police cars and she could read the disorientation in her body language. The sirens finally stopped as a number of police officers flooded the scene. Passers-by stopped in their tracks, a few feet away, curious and eager to find out the details of this police intervention. Red and blue lights were casted across Alexandra's face, flashing disturbingly brightly. The semi darkness that had once sheltered her had now disappeared and almost each detail of the scene was revealed. Stains on the alley's concrete left by various body fluids, the rotting flesh of a dead rat, the pieces of junk scattered around the garbage cans, all became visible when the cover of the dark was forced away.

Alexandra took a step toward the lights, as she chose the lesser evil. Once more, she looked over to the other three characters of the story. The redhead looked disturbed. Santa looked intrigued. Xavia-Layla looked confused. As each looked at her at some point or another, Alexandra looked back. And to for each look, a different emotion graced her figure. For the redhead, a hint of sympathy. For Santa, smugness. And for Xavia-Layla, a growing curiosity. It was in her eyes she looked the most as they were desperately trying to tell her something. But what?

Alexandra followed the woman's stare until her eyes finally rested on the face behind the glass of the car's window. There, she found what felt so out of place to the woman. The sorrow or perhaps the anger that should have been there wasn't, a peculiar expression painted on the man's face. Intriguing, indeed. The blue eyes shifted back to Xavia-Layla, however, an officer had approached her and while his lust filled eyes roamed over the silk-clad body, he asked for her statement. Men would always be men, wouldn't they? No matter the job, no matter the situation.

With Xavia being busy, Alexandra diverted her gaze away. To see that an officer was quickly approaching her position. Oh goodie. She had her own policeman to toy with. And a young, quite nervous one, he was. The joy. "Uhmm." He hesitated, nervously blinking as he looked at the blank paper on his notebook as if the secrets of the Universe laid there. A mild interest appeared on Alexandra's face as she wondered whether he was usually bad at this particular task or her mere stare was that intimidating. She could only hope it was the latter. His eyes shifted back to her and Alexandra was under the slight impression that he was looking at her ear. "My name is Officer Johnson. I'm here to get your statement..." Go figure.

"Well." Alexandra removed her hands out of her pockets and folded them, her eyes wandering past Officer Johnson's shoulder to where Santa was replacing the officer that was taking Xavia-Layla's statement. She followed the male's steps for a few moments as he was heading toward the redhead instead. "Once upon a time, there was a damsel in distress." Her eyes trailed back to her own officer, as he was displaying a look of utter stupor. Alexandra flashed the most dashing smile in her inventory. "Then, Santa Claus saved her."