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Attempting to form coherent thoughts when the mental equivalent of a wrecking ball continually strives to decimate the inside of your skull is not the easiest of endeavors. A conversation, by extension, is all but impossible, at least, if one wishes to remain polite and avoid littering their discourse with all manner of vulgarities.

Zephyr was well aware of this; however knowing and caring are two drastically different things and were it not for his sisters doppelganger the elemental likely would have been far more… insistent with his requests for medication. As things were though protégé’s presence only served to enforce the hessians naturally taciturn nature and render him all but silent as he shut his eyes and clutched the bridge of his nose with one hand in a vain effort to ignore the jumble of noise and half formed conversations around him.

In the midst of all these unpleasant sensations a damp cloth was abruptly brushed against his head and he instinctively jerked before biting back a curse as a fresh wave of pain surged through his head and threatened to erase the tenuous grasp he had on his growing temper. Fortunately his patience held, and the knowledge that the slightest motion could exacerbate his condition kept him still as Katrina continued her ministrations and stumbled through an apology.

An apology which rapidly brought to the front of the elementals mind precisely what the young gamine beside him was capable of.

Cautiously turning his head to face the Lilliputian illusionist Zephyr grudgingly opened his eyes to mere slits and stared at the girl for a moment before speaking. “There is a time and place for things Katrina.” He stated in a careful monotone. “Now would be an excellent time for you to repeat your last trick.”

Looking down at the tawdry spectacle below Zephyr resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he briefly watched the lithe redhead pose for the small crowd her talents had gathered. The elemental couldn't honestly say he was surprised; her profession essentially required, if not a love for attention, at least lack of aversion to it. Still, it would have made things rather more interesting if the soubrette hadn't shown to enjoy the spotlight quite so much.

Regardless of the girls preferences though Zephyr had little intention of indulging her puerile performance by becoming just another member of her impromptu audience. That would make things too easy for her by far, which was why he'd made his way down to the Staples loading bay the moment he'd seen Miss Ralls attention drift moved elsewhere. Annoyingly though it seemed as though the gamines animated pens were capable of acting independently of their creator as they continued to hover behind him regardless of the redheads focus.

Without slowing his pace the hessian glanced down at red pen spinning through his fingers, the thing had become all but lifeless as soon as he'd caught it. The moment he relaxed his grasp however the instrument stirred to life, yet made no overt attempt to escape leading the elemental to suspect that it acted as a beacon of sorts for the other pens trailing behind him. This in and of itself wasn't a problem just yet, he had no intention of losing his overly inquisitive stalker quite so early in the game.

Still though, if she wanted a snow ball's chance in summer of keeping up with him she'd need have to keep her adoring audience at bay. She was after all here for his entertainment, not her-

Coming to an abrupt halt at the entrance to main street Zephyr's thoughts paused as he blinked at the viridian pen darting back and forth in front of his face. The elemental had already raised his arm to swat the thing from air before he noticed the card under its cap and instead adjusted the motion to snatch the card from its messenger and bring it to a readable distance.

Coffee?

Zephyr raised a brow before flicking the card to the ground and stepping out to merge with crowd. The girl was brazen he'd give her that, it was probably an attitude which served her well in her job, especially if her weekly segment was any indication. Miss Ralls was deeply mistaken though if she thought he'd deign to treat her to coffee; a vile drink at the nest of times.

Clearly the gamine needed an education in proper refreshments, however the nearest acceptable bistro was some ways away. Still, that would only make her appreciate it her all the more, she'd need to pick up the pace first though.

Focusing on the redheads location the elemental once again directed his words for the soubrettes ears alone as he began to make his way to the outskirts of China town.

"Do try to keep up Miss Ralls, you're falling behind."

Most have heard the trite aphorism regarding the wide variety yet poor selection of entertainment available on American television. It is perhaps most readily compared to an age old axiom regarding a needle and haystack. Occasionally though, among the dull detritus of mundane American entertainment rare gems could be found in the unlikeliest of places.

Wolf news had one such gem, a program which had risen rather sharply prominence as a result of a recent segment featuring the city’s resident bonemancer and reluctant amateur Sapphic star/model. The episode had made headlines and more than a few had speculated that the show’s host wouldn’t live to see her next installment, yet more than two weeks on and the cheerfully sardonic redhead was still making ratings for her station and if anything had somehow become even more unbearably smug then she’d been previously.

For all the attention she’d gained over ‘summer special’ however very little was actually available regarding Maxine Ralls beyond contact and employment information. She’d recently been promoted before her summer special and had her segment time doubled, she produced an… interesting, variety of products related to her show and had a penchant for donating a portion of her sales to charity. She was also a known mutant though the precise nature of her abilities was unknown beyond the fact that it seemed to affect stationary.

Last but not least, she apparently had a bad habit of wandering where she wasn’t wanted, and annoying people who would really be better left alone, though in retrospect Zephyr would admit that this was likely true of all reporters who were in essence, paid prod noses. Still as the age old adage went, turn around was fair play. Yan could wait for another day, this was an opportunity he couldn’t delay. The only question was how much should she pay?

Standing edge of the building Zephyr returned his small bottle of painkillers to his jacket pocket and resumed watching the door below him expectantly as he finished reviewing what little he knew of his scarlet haired stalker. The girl had caused him a fair amount of annoyance in the past, and though he’d done anything about her at the time, this was indeed too good of an opportunity to pass up. His smirk grew faintly as he watched the girl burst into the back alley and rapidly turned her head back in forth as she sought him out, glancing up but somehow failing to spot him.

Being chased was a novel experience for the elemental, far more often the roles were reversed, though he couldn’t say he disliked the switch he wasn’t entirely certain how to proceed. He had no idea why he’d garnered the Miss Ralls attention, and in truth didn’t really care, however he could see a certain appeal in letting the girl run herself ragged. Granted it would be a puerile pursuit but, indulging ones inner child from time to time was only healthy. He just needed to get her attention.

As he was contemplating the amount of discomfort a discarded coin could generate from his current height the hessians ponderings were interrupted when his follower withdrew and released several colourful pens which rose through the air and generated an odd sense of déjà vu for the mercenary as they eventually came to halt in a hovering circle. He’d seen this little trick before and knew how to deal with such minor irritants. A mild breeze was all it took sweep the trio of pens within arm’s reach and a deft flick of the wrist resulted in a crimson pen twirling idly between the elementals fingers even as the other two promptly retreated, followed by a whispered current of air which trailed down to the redhead ears.

“Catch me if you can.” The words conveyed both amusement and condescension as the elemental began to make his way across the nearest adjacent roof.

One of the key benefits that Zephyr rarely shared regarding his mutation was his spatial awareness; the ability to perceive his element beyond simple line of sight and, by extension, everything that displaced it. In short it granted the hessian a somewhat dull but accurate form of 360◦ vision which operated independently of natural sight and often proved to be rather more reliable.

Such a skill admittedly had numerous potential uses but, more and more frequently, the hessian found himself using it merely as a multitasking aid and this was perhaps most clearly demonstrated as he deftly drifted through the crowded sidewalks, easily sidestepping and pivoting around errant children and careless adults without once raising his eyes from the lines of enigmatic text in his book.

Oriental languages had always been somewhat troublesome for the hazel haired elemental; the differing forms of address, the inherent redundancy in having a male and female term for almost everything and the unmemorable and near indecipherable characters made learning the eastern languages exponentially more difficult than the European ones he’d learned thus far.

In all honesty what he truly needed were proper classes, a chance to immerse himself in the dialect and force his mind to process the language to exclusion of all else, he’d done similarly to master both French and Russian; spending months at a time in each respective country until he was capable of carrying on a coherent conversation. Unfortunately he couldn’t currently afford anything more than a cursory sojourn outside of the US and the city’s local Chinese community tended to be rather close knit and somewhat xenophobic. A tutor was possibility but given his… unpredictable schedule, it was uncertain he’d ever manage to keep appointments.

In all honesty, it almost wasn’t worth the trouble.

However if memorizing a few pointless syllables would let him avoid Yan’s deliberately poor engrish then it was a small price to pay in order to get an update on the Triads limited, yet profitable operations in the city. The hardest part would be tracking the old man down. He always professed to be staying with ‘family’ despite the fact that it was different ‘family’ on almost every occasion. Either Yan didn’t care for such pretenses when conversing with business acquaintances, or his fecundity put Genghis Khan to shame. In either case it was only a mild annoyance, the old man never stayed too far from a drug den and despite the size of Chinatown there were only so many places you could hide such an enterprise.

Nonchalantly skirting past an inconveniently located stall conveying over priced apparel to ignorant tourists Zephyr quietly slipped down a narrow side street which was all but empty and sufficiently shaded by the buildings on either side that further reading would have been something of a lost cause and so with a slight sigh the hessian placed his book back in his jacket pocket and attempted to keep the few simple phrases he’d been reading at the front of his mind.

At least, that had been his intention until his spatial awareness took notice of someone else duck down the street after him. It was quite painfully obvious to the elemental really; body language can say a good deal, even more when people don’t think they were being watched. In this instance his hopeless pursuer made things rather easy by peeking at his back from behind a pile of discarded cardboard boxes. In all honesty if Zephyr had been anyone else the girl likely wouldn’t have been spotted (and it was a girl, the hessian could tell that even without conjuring a breeze), as it was though she’d been spotted and now the elemental had to decide what to do about her.

The immediate answer was obvious, loose her.

That was exactly what he attempted to do as left the side street and entered into Chinatown proper, quickly stepping off to the side and taking refuge within a somewhat moth eaten second hand clothes shop which afforded him a fair view of the side street he’d just left, curious despite himself about precisely whom he’d attracted.

Regaining consciousness after any significant injury is never a pleasant process; the mind seems to develop an almost masochistic curiosity in swiftly seeking out every ache and pain it can find before then fixating on them to a rather unhealthy and unpleasant degree. If the human body did indeed have a creator then this subsequent torment was all too likely intended as crude reminder to avoid whatever initial idiocy had caused the damage in the first place.

It was perhaps with such a thought in mind that Zephyr’s subconscious fervently struggled against waking, unfortunately the gelid breeze which greeted him as he was half dragged, half carried from the jet rapidly removed the lingering lassitude from his mind, rousing him to full awareness and drawing a pained groan from his throat as his body abruptly tried to cash checks which couldn’t be paid with only a few short hours of rest.

His limbs had the responsiveness and dexterity of wet sand, his throat raw and dry to the point where it seemed to burn and his entire midsection, although healed, was exceedingly sore causing pain to shoot up and down his sides whenever he moved or his stomach happened to issue an audible notice for food. Worst of all though was the incessant pounding coming from his skull as though something was furiously trying to claw its way out of his head. It was far worse than any migraine or hangover had any right to be and rendered the elemental as cooperative as an abandoned puppet.

Eventually though the hessian found himself ushered inside and led to a chair where he all too eagerly collapsed and cradled his head in one hand as he tried to will away the pain whilst glancing blearily at his surroundings and vaguely noting that he had somehow become the center of attention for a fair few unfamiliar individuals. A more cynical and pessimistic part of the mercenary’s mind noted the fact that none of them seemed to be interested in doing a damn thing to help him.

Then he was poked.

It wasn’t a particularly forceful or sharp action but it still caused him to use muscles that were in no way ready to be used. A pained sigh escaped his lips as his side twitched in response and he knocked the offending digit away with his free hand before sending a weary glare its owner, only to blink in surprise as he once again took in familiar features framed with blonde hair. This time however he was lucid enough to properly recognize the girl before him.

“Katrina? Wha- No, never mind.” A partial recollection flashed through his and he dismissed the half formed question with a slight shake of his head only to wince and immediately regret the movement as the ache in his skull briefly intensified. “I need aspirin, or something stronger, could you try and find some please?”

He’d deal with everything else after he’d gotten the pain to a manageable level.

Pausing beside two freshly dismembered cadavers Zephyr drew a slow breath as he lifted his hand and carefully removed his influence, allowing air to revert to flesh, only to frown slightly when he felt something amiss. A moment later his entire figure had reformed and he struggled to ignore the collective pains of his body as he stared down at the raw pink flesh of his hand with no small amount of concern as he forced unusually stiff fingers to form a fist.

A disadvantage of the ethereal form the hessian was swiftly coming to recognize was the transformation could only be initiated with substances in the same state. That is to say, he needed to be corporeal himself before he could render something insubstantial and vice versa. It was something of an annoyance but he’d managed to circumvent it by simply changing a portion of himself, such as a hand, and then supporting the regained flesh with a stiff frame of air and using it transform other objects while keeping the majority of his form ethereal.

Cheating the system in such a way came with a price however, while incorporeal there was a distinct lack of definition surrounding the extremities; making it difficult to ascertain precisely where his own essence ended and inanimate air began. If he were overly careless with his transformations it would be far too easy to lose pieces of himself whilst maintaining his aeriform state. It wouldn't be as noticeable as what had occurred with his hand, but he could readily envision it as a gradual erosion which would eventually accumulate into something significant.

He had no desire to see where that would lead.

"W-what the f*ck kind of freak are you?!"[/color]

Lifting his azure gaze from his damaged hand Zephyr glanced at the bleeding form slumped in the shadows of the dead end formed by the shipping crates. The Latino youth couldn't have been over twenty, yet he'd not only noticed the elementals approach but also managed to shout a warning and had the presence of mind to try and dodge. As a result the youth had managed to keep most of his arm while his two companions now sported rather prominent holes in the center of their chests.

Unfortunately the young man had nowhere left to run and the injury on his arm had caused him to drop his weapon which now rested out of his reach. Judging from the amount blood which was rapidly spreading across the ground the Latino thug would be lucky to last another five minutes. In these types of circumstances however the hessian disliked leaving any lose ends; in a city like this little was guaranteed. Better to give the luckless grunt a quick death.
Reaching a decision Zephyr forced himself to fade back into the air, taking care to craft a distinct boundary about his ethereal essence as he did so. The last thing he saw before his vision dispersed into a dull haze were the rapidly widening eyes of the olive skinned youth.

'No! S-stay the f*ck away from me! S-sh*t. Sh*t. Somebody HEL-"[/color]

An insubstantial hand swept over a shaved head and the scream died as a gaping wound replaced a considerable section of skull, shortly followed by the wet thud of something unpleasant hitting the ground.

The difficulty in shifting from flesh to air is learning how to loosen the body's bonds without breaking them, being able to unravel a form but leaving the basic design intact so that it could be remade. If you took a brute force approach and performed the transformation without regard, you would still succeed, in a way. A solid substance would now be air, when it came to reforming however the underlying architecture would be damaged or missing and you would simply be left with the components.

In short, if you weren't careful you could tear someone apart.

Taking another slow breath Zephyr again allowed himself to reform before then examining his other hand and felt no small amount of satisfaction when he saw that it was completely unmarked. The elemental had always prided himself on the control he held over his mutation and so it was gratifying to see positive results for his latest skill. Still, although he now had a fair grasp on the basic principles of the transformation he would need to practice in order to ensure he got into the habit of keeping a tight rein on his incorporeal form and keeping it separate from the ethereal essence of others.

How fortunate that Isabel's somewhat inefficient efforts left him with ample opportunity to do so.

Every form of social gathering has its own idiosyncrasies, some are characterized by the venue and the ambience it holds through a combination of decor, music and redolence. Others are typified by the qualities of the company they gather; in many ways becoming a pluralistic simulacrum of the assemblage. From the refined politic machinations of aristocrats to the far more rudimentary, if honest, behaviors of the everyday thug, each individual will in some way shape the course of events around them.

A rare few gatherings however can be marked entirely by the abilities of the host, through the power of their personality which allows them to take charge of almost any situation and make it their own. These are the sorts of individuals who can end wars, lead nations and sway public opinion which just a few whispered words through a unique combination of charisma, intelligence and, usually, no small amount of style.

This was not such a gathering.

Tony Bianchi was little more than a technicolour piece of poultry. In the hierarchy of organized crime he would most likely be found somewhere in the lower tiers, above everyday drug dealers but below the more infamous gangs which carved the city into a jigsaw of fluctuating territories. He had managed to come into prominence fairly recently by filling the void caused by the partial decimation of the two most salient drug running factions in the city, the Black Bullets and The Foot, at the hands of a certain ribbon wearing femme fatale.

In the process of capitalizing on the situation however Bianchi had called in a number of favours and incurred more than the odd debt, all of which meant that a fair few influential figures had something of a vested interest in the success of his fledgling organization. As such a number of Bianchi's unofficial creditors had taken advantage of the somewhat clichéd soiree to send along their subordinates and remind the parties host of certain obligations and expectations.

Given the level of importance that the lower tiers of the criminal hierarchy placed on reputation and standing however, Bianchi had managed to display an unexpected level of guile by advertising a 'high rollers poker tournament' to mask the true purpose behind the attendance of his creditors representatives and to claim that he was capable of drawing those who standing equaled or surpassed his own.

It was a moderately clever ruse and would likely garner Bianchi a certain amount of credit. More importantly however, the poker championship was very much a genuine event and as such offered a chance for those of a more cunning inclination to gain a significant monetary reward for relatively low risk. That is to say, as low risk as any theft from a mafia member can be.

Despite the potential windfall however Zephyr had been of two minds about attending , on the one hand a chance to add a few significant figures to his bank balance simply by playing cards for an afternoon was a good deal less strenuous than his usual assignments and thus more than a little appealing. On the other hand though the elemental knew it was unlikely things would be quite so simple. If he won too handily accusation of cheating were almost certain and would rather hinder his ability to collect any winnings without putting forth a good amount of the effort he was hoping to avoid in the first place.

In the end though the hessian had ultimately decided that the prospective payoff, combined with a chance to network with potential future employers provided sufficient reason to attend and thus he had been among the first to enter the 'party', neatly sidestepping the queue which had formed at the warehouse entrance due to the assistance of one Benjamin Franklin and his twin brother.

Upon entering the metallic confines of the warehouse the elemental had suppressed a wince at the sheer volume of the rather tasteless music which assaulted his hearing in the form of some unsavory mixture of techno and rap which had no discernable rhythm or beat but rather pounded the surrounding air into submission at rapid and erratic intervals which did nothing assuage the customary migraine which lurked beneath the elementals temples.

Fortunately however a second display of his association with Mr. Franklin swiftly led the hessian to a sealed off section of the establishment where the cacophonous attempt at music was rapidly reduced to little more than a dull murmur, offering the elemental a measure of relief as the throbbing in his skull abated to a degree, allowing him to survey the room before him with a clear head as he was subjected to a brief weapons inspections and then directed towards a caged off corner of the room which presumably served as the currency exchange.

The room was occupied by a trio of poker tables in surprisingly good condition given their surroundings, the viridian felt was largely unmarred and the seats surrounding them actually a step above the typical folding variety. A number of places had already been filled despite the party still being in its early stages and no two participants appeared to possess similar fashion tastes. Attire varied from 3 piece pinstripe suits with argent watches to unwashed wife beaters with oversized jeans overlaid by an ill suited collection aureate chains and rings.

Despite the differing apparel however a range of hushed conversation were occurring throughout the room, adding a reserved atmosphere to the event which was occasionally broken by the odd laugh or curse interspersed among requests for more drinks which were quickly fulfilled by the acting muscle scattered throughout the room who were otherwise ignored by the prospective players.

Eventually the room filled and each table began to deal, Zephyr himself was one of the last to take a place at the centre table, his peers shooting him mildly irritated glances as he finally set down his chips and regarded them with an indifferent expression which he soon struggled to maintain as the first hand was dealt. It wasn't that his cards were anything impressive, an eight and a ten of different suites, rather it was the design of the cards which were the source of the hessians mirth.

They were embossed; each cards art a raised relief which displaced the surrounding air, allowing the elemental to discern not only the hands of his competitors, but the upcoming order of the cards in the dealers deck.

This was going to be far too easy.
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((OOC: Given that my activity is due to drop off rather sharply Zephyr will really only be interacting with NPC's, feel free to reference him in your posts if you like, but don't expect any kind of timely reaction.) )