Sibling

Gertrude had no need of a pad to take the order, she would write it down when she got back to her wait station. The lady was a little loose on her feet, but nothing that needed tending, and she was leaving off the liquor now anyway.

"Gal would say she makes the best pan-fried cornbread North of Terre Haute." She grinned at the dark-skinned woman. "Would you like greens with that? Gal makes a good Southern Platter, ships in the Collards from Saint Charles."

Part of a good waitress' job was making small talk with patrons. Since there were no other players, she thought maybe some company would be good, until someone else showed up.

"Iced Tea, and a Southern Platter, be right back."

Steve's time was long past, and so many things he did not grasp about this new time. Falcon's comment about becoming Lily's guardian was completely beyond his understanding, and it took a moment to react, which brought him another question that again confused his thoughts.

"Eat?" His expression was befuddled, most of everything following "become her guardian" being unheard.

"I, eh, no. Pardon me." Broad hands lifted the menu again, he tried to concentrate on the foods. "I s'pose the chops, er lamb, I mean." He still sounded lost.

The look on his face was puzzled, but glancing up again, at least he knew he needed to ask more questions. Falcon could manage, he was sure, with the meal. Until then, he kept the menu up to hide the embarrassment he felt.

"Are you all alone back here?" The waitress picked up the now-empty glasses from the table, making an obvious look around. "Usually a little busier, but slow could be good depending on what you want."


The tray she held balanced easily, showing her years in the business. Wrinkles were just forming around her eyes, but otherwise Gertrude had stayed in good health.

"Have you decided on dinner, or just stick with liquid meals?" One corner of her mouth rose, a smirk that held some humor.

"Aye, at least on tha' side o' injury." Steve said, watching his companion with pleasure. "I ha' been on the hunt wi' a young lass tha' seems to know yer name." A sparkle of mischief lit his otherwise featureless eyes for a moment.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Beth arrived at the table, setting out a small basket of bread and looking definitely abashed.

((All my heroes, except for Steve and Ma, are Sisters, so you get one, you get them all. The following would be parallel to what is happening at Gal's anyway, so there is no interruption to that thread.))

Across the City, women paused on the streets, in their offices, on the Tram and during missions. Some costumes allowed the traditional tattoos to be seen, some had secret identities that hid them, but one thing was the same among all these women: the tattoos pulsed with a message all understood. "Return to the Island, soonest."

******

Gal stormed from the kitchen, and Martin knew that look. She moved fast for a woman her size, and stood next to the podium in seconds. Already, Sibling and Diva were standing and moving for the doors, Lady Gemini, Sharon and Gypsy a step behind.

"You got the place, Martin," the immense black tank said as she passed, "I'll call when I can." He nodded, knowing there would be no more talk now, and able to take charge.

The group of women in, and out of, costume poured onto the sidewalk outside, Narshawn just coming from the bar entrance a few meters away. Sibling held rank, and a motion from their hand sent the runners, a touch of their hand to the tattoo under the Blastex costume and they faded into teleportation. Moments later, the sidewalk was empty and all the women were on The Island.

******

"There has been a disaster, and we have been called," Sibling was serving as Lady Almira's voice, standing at the head of the meeting place. "Loss of life is immense, no effort will be spared. Only those to care for The Island will remain behind. Gather your daughters, and any young with powers. There is little time," their face was grave. Behind the twins, Almira's hood was fully down, but the empath's cowl was wet with the tears she had been silently shedding. "You know what is to be done. Be well, Do Good."

The meeting was over, no running but many feet moving as quickly as they could. Even while the Ladies had been gathered here, their daughters, Mistresses and Initiates, had been preparing supplies and traveling gear. At the far end of the clearing, a mountain of crates and pallets was forming. A steady stream of young women and girls carrying all forms of supplies from the storage places.

The teleporters started first, each with a Sister that could speed metabolism or with O2 Boost skills, so they could reach their destination quickly. Those with Group Fly lifted the supplies and headed out as fast as possible, often with a controller using speed boost slung beneath their arms.

It was still hours, but the Sisters arrived, with no time to cry or stare in awe at the devastation that was New Orleans. There had been enough stalling, enough blame to go around. Now it was time for action, now it was time for those with powers to help the heroes that had stood in their stead until now.

Heroes: Firemen that had walked through sewage and broken neighborhoods to rescue the injured. Police that had reported to duty even as their own families were missing. Paramedics and doctors that were working with no clean water or electricity, operating in devastated buildings with Coleman lanterns as their only light. Volunteers that had risked their own lives to rescue the infirm or young. Construction workers that were even now using abandoned equipment to drag decking and steel to the breached levees. Human beings with no magic, no mutant powers, no alien artifacts to protect them.

*********

Lady Thorn led the Sisters with powers tied to weather and earth to the levees. Somewhere near Industrial Avenue and 17th, they joined hands and a mound of sodden dirt rose. The wind whipped up to a memory of the hurricane that had caused the destruction. Slowly, the levee was rebuilt and the wind drove waves of water back out of the city.

Here and there, gangs of Stone Servants carried huge sandbags to the holes in the levees. Water was no concern for them, and piece by piece they rebuilt what had failed. As one would drop from exhaustion, another would take his place, but the Sisters who directed them had no rest. The knowledge of what was at stake enough to drive the women past their limits.

******

"Gal! I need a hand here!" Lady Anvil stood waist deep in fetid water, pieces of broken buildings all around. She was eye level with the attic of a crumbling house, at nine feet high, she was acting as one of the spotters for trapped people.

Gal's splashing rounded the corner, the black woman's face set like the stone she was. There was death and destruction aplenty here, but no time to mourn. The group of tanks and scrappers had been tearing open attics and removing debris all day, trying to save those still trapped in the vast lake.

Some Sisters had talents with water, and they towed or floated barges. Using anything they could find, those that could were removing people that had not, or could not, flee the water. Half a block away, Mistress Mery concentrated to keep the waterlogged flatbed above the water, and protect the dozen or so pitiful people they had found in the last hour.

"Tell me A," Gal's toneless voice replied.

"I can hear a child here, but I think if I tear open the roof, some will collapse." The center of the roof was already bowed, probably damaged from the storm. Almost on cue, small fingers the color of chocolate thrust through the louvered attic vent and a small voice called out.

"Hello? Help us! Is someone there?"

"Calm down girl," Gal stalked to the edge of what had been the porch roof, afraid to touch the wall for fear of collapse. The tank's giant hand stretched out to touch the girl's own, physical contact being more reassuring than simple words.

"We're gonna get you out of there. How many's you got?"

"It's just me and my lil' brother," the tiny voice came back.

"Hold on, an gets away from tha' wall." Gal glanced towards the taller white lady that was her superior, and Anvil nodded. Silently, she called a name in her mind, and a moment later received an acceptance the same way.

Sibling appeared in a flash, Gal calling them through teleportation. No words passed between them, the tank and controller were close enough not to need them. Sibling's tiny hand brushed away the tears Gal had been shedding periodically all day.

The much smaller controller turned and grasped the roof with their mind, levitating the torn shingles and planking. A nod and the two tanks walked through the wall where the girl's hand had been a moment before.

Pieces of wood and plaster tore around them, the building no match for the Sister's size or strength. Gal stretched and caught the boy, barely ten from his size and staring at Gal with wonder. Anvil had the girl a moment later, clinging to her chest like a lost puppy.

Walking backwards, in a move they had perfected earlier, the two women shielded the children from falling debris and sharp objects and backed out into the sun. Sibling released the roof as they passed into the street, and the small house tilted, popped and fell into itself.

Two more quivering, terrified survivors for the shelters.

*******

Narshawn and Mistress Larae worked as a team at one of hundreds of shelters in the city. While Nar could control ice and cold, Larae was a fire blaster. Using the principles of evaporation, they found they could sterilize water and remove the sediments quickly by working together.

Tankers stood waiting for the clean water to take it to shelters, while people carrying bottles and jugs needed it for their families. Little talking passed between them, they needed their strength for the long days ahead.

******

Downtown, the healers and medical trained Sisters worked at Charity Hospital alongside normal doctors and nurses. The pallets of supplies the Sisters had brought stood almost empty, tons of emergency treatment equipment gone in hours.

Even with the added help, some could not be saved, and a morgue was being attended by some of the Ice Maidens. The longer the heat lasted, the more important this refrigerated room was. As nurses did in ages past, they passed along the rows and added names to lists.

Thankfully three of the Sisters had volunteered for power duty. With the generators down, and out of diesel fuel due to miscommunications with the government, they desperately had needed electricity.

Now, where the Caterpillar generators had been, a Sister kneeled on the concrete pad. Some of the scrappers had dismantled the mechanical units, certainly voiding the warranties, leaving space for the blasters to pour electricity into the main systems.

They had to take turns, the three using their powers to run the minimum of services. Even at backup power only, the strain was immense, many Initiates ferrying food and water to a rest area for Ladies Hersute, Magna and Madelena as their breaks allowed.

None could approach the actual generating area, sparks and bolts of stray lightning turning the earth black and desolate. Hersute stood, her turn as Madelena showed signs of collapse. The grey-haired blaster walked up behind her friend and grabbed hold of thick cables, catching a resigned thanks from the younger woman's eyes.

"Get something to eat, 'Lena," she said kindly as bolts of blue arced across her back.

*****

"And where was the human government?" Gemini was deadly quiet, her voice barely a whisper. The group of scrappers patroled the perimeter of the Superdome, having duty to prevent any further murders or rapes. With so many police missing, and the National Guard strained already, they could enter the building and help when needed. She, most of all, had been disgusted to learn that there were those preying on innocents in this time.

"They had two days warning. There were notices. Still, they cut emergency funding, cut preparedness funds, neglected the advice of their own scientists." Lupa prowled next to her, the leopard woman's sharp ears attuned to signs of trouble. "Corporations sent aid before their own leaders did. I have heard that this US government even formally requested aid from Europe, their own planning being so poor. How can a country so rich, that complains about sending aid to those so poor, now request aid? They treat their own people like animals." The words carried a tone of utter disbelief.

"No," Lupa spoke, her feline eyes flashing, "Animals treat their own better."

The sound of a woman's screams brought both of them to a run.

*****

((May the Goddess have mercy on those caught in this terrible disaster, and my heart goes out to them. The true heroes in this are those with no thought of themselves, but only of helping others: Police, Fire, Emergency crews, civilians who have opened their homes, doctors who have flown in from every corner of the world. Questions should be asked of those who JOBS it is to prepare for this, and who have failed miserably.))

"Ach, 'tis nah for all I suppose," Steve motioned to the glass of champagne in her hand. "Would ha' been for tha' barons in mah' day, we enjoyed a fine malt or brew. But would nah' ha' been noticed were't bath water wi' such a sight as you." His smile widened.

Gal was missing from her stage kitchen, but he had not seen where, or when, she left. As it was, Gypsy seemed to be involved with a couple further away and he just spied Martin escorting someone to a table. Beth was making her way across the floor towards them now, carrying a tray from the kitchens.

Gal allowed a smile to replace the mock-scowl, mostly at the compliments. The other woman was tall, well built and seemed to have good sense. This far north, it was rare to see someone with the skin color and accent of the south, and sometimes she missed it.

"Long way from Cahokia," she said looking around at the room and actually realizing how far it was. "An' I couldn'na done it without some friends." She stepped to the booth but didn't sit, knowing that as the owner, she was always working.

"I'd love ta' sit a spell with ya', but a woman's work is nevah' done," she held up the hem of her apron to show. "Jus' ain't often I get someone in tha' talks without an accent, an it's nice tah' see a friendly face.

"If ya' like tah' stay for a bite, I could arrange somethin' decent tah' eat." She lifted one eyebrow. "I keep a touch of fatback an have some nice chops?"

((OOC: I almost choked on my milk when you said St Louis. Gal is from Cahokia, which everyone calls East St Louis, literally from the wrong side of the tracks. These girls could have been neighbors! Blue, have you ever been to Cahokia Park? Near the UP tracks on 157? If Soulll wants to stay around, I guarantee Gal will make her evening fun, and they could talk about old times. BTW, my wife is no-joke from Cahokia, Ill. Small world, and welcome to the thread!))

The sound of billiard balls echoed through the faint force fielding that provided the smoking area in the bar. Narshawn had allowed Gertrude to provide the salt for the tall woman, being very careful around that particular substance. The tiny ice blaster looked up as a shadow passed the bar, moving in the direction of the game room.

Van Morrison was just finishing "Brown-eyed Girl" as Gal stepped into the room, having taken a moment to watch the other woman at the table. Little happened in the place that she didn't have an idea about, and not all of it was that she owned it.

"I'd have expected a sistah ta' say hello," she crossed her substantial arms while she gazed at the woman's back.

((OOC: Come on, like you didn't think that a lady from the south would be interested if another walked in, over six feet tall and listening to THAT music? Gal stuffed the jukebox with all that music. Oh, and she makes honest to goodness pan-fried cornbread and Collards to die for ))

Narshawn allowed a small smile, realizing, not for the first time, that regions of the country produced people remarkably similar at first glance. But, she also knew that first glances could be deceiving, such as most people's first reaction to Lady Diva.

"Good evening," she said with frosted breath, "the gaming tables are for anyone's enjoyment, come as they are taken." She retrieved a wooden box containing balls from beneath the bar and set it down for the tall woman to take. "If you care to start, Gertrude will bring your beverage to the room. You wish a double portion of Jose Cuervo Gold Tequila and the appropriate lime, yes?"

To many, she appeared to have some sort of speech impediment. Not slurring or stuttering, but more like a very stilted pronounciation, like the words were read from a dictionary or produced by a computer. Her body and mind both matured faster than a human's, but her race did not communicate verbally, lacking vocal cords that could vibrate. She was very good at imitating though, just lacking inflection or accent.

The tall lady reminded her of another giant black woman, and she could not help but grin at the similarities. Gal would be taller, but the way they spoke and their skin tone...

"I hope you enjoy."

((OOC: Wow, sorry for being out of it so much. I won't bore you all with the story, let's just say I was unable to reach a computer, and not in any shape to type anyway. I hope some will come back, even though I have neglected you. If not, I will let this thread go, knowing it was my inattention that doomed it. It has been incredible to RP with you all, and if I see interest again, I will be more involved from here on Thank you.))

"A Sister may not own gold or blood," Wadi had looked into the box, and now glanced quickly from Janice's eyes to the table. Two hours ago, this woman had been foreign and the girl would gladly have never met her. Since she could remember, she harbored a resentment that the one who brought her to the Island would never visit.

Silence met the statement, Janice unsure how to react or answer. Wadi had simply put words to one of the laws of The Order, which every Sister followed as The Law.

"I'm sorry?" Janice was unsure, but approaching agitated. She did not know the rules, but there were some things that had to translate. If they did not accept money, where had the cash she sent for Wadi's welfare gone?

"Miss Sartain," Gemini began in a delicate tone.

"Ma," Janice cut in, abruptly and with a hint of challenge in her voice. "Call me Ma or Janice, and explain what this is about." She waved at the girl and the box.

"Very well, Ma," Their eyes met and steel flashed behind the Asian woman's. Very few on the Island would dare to take any tone with Gemini, the Bushido Code did not allow for breaks in respect or command. For now, she left her hands on the table, in a show of restraint.

"It is against our laws to take charity or to own goods that do not serve our needs. That is the gold young Wadi speaks of. It is also against our laws to take or keep anything which breathes, that is the blood she mentions.

"The only adornments we have are those we use for our powers or as symbols." She spread her hands, as though encompassing everything in the room. "Mistress War owns this restaurant, and is a Sister, but her profits do not go to enrich her. It is not our way to keep trinkets or the like for our amusement. You have seen the Island, been to my cottage," Janice nodded, she had and knew this woman lived a simple life. "What money The Sisters have or earn goes to support those without enough.

"It is simply our law." She finished, smiling as Wadi's eyes slid towards her.

"So," Janice said casually, actually turning towards Sharon for a moment, "Places like the Mission down the street or the Battered Women's Shelter over in Steel Canyon?"

Sharon's eyes narrowed, and Janice was certain that Gemini's had, too. The giant blaster would have been foolish not to know these people, and her intelligence was quite good. Where it came from, and how she acquired it was a secret, but the occassional word in the right place kept others very careful.

"You know Miss Jiang, from the shelter?" Sharon said softly, keeping eye contact. The Sisters had a network that was the envy of the Paragon Police, and now the African gauged the woman again. She began to feel a measure of respect for Janice that had nothing to do with Wadi.

"Let's say we have met," Janice absently played with her water glass, "and I respect what she does."

"Daughter," Lady Gemini said into a pause that followed, "I think you should accept this gracious token. Janice means this to be a gift, and not one of money." The solid yellow eyes moved to catch her own, calculating in the slant of her head. "I think this is a token she wants you to have as a symbol."

Now, Janice turned completely, intending to see if Gemini would really understand. The explanation so far was very close, no matter that Ma did not follow The Order and Gemini knew little of the blaster's notions. Some emotions seemed to carry across lines of faith, work and history.

"Wadi," Gemini said carefully, "I think this is a gift from a family member, to show that she cares about you." She turned her penetrating eyes back to the tall blaster, "Am I correct?"

"It has been in my family for many generations," Ma said, impressed. "I hope it will continue for many more. Wadi, I haven't been a mother, but I wouldn't know how to be."

Words were not her strong suit, just getting this far was an accomplishment. Meeting the young girl was hard, she had wanted to be more involved, but hero life seemed to get in the way a lot. She was glad that The Sisters had taken Wadi in, from what she had seen, there was no better family. Now, the girl was a woman, about to move on, and in reality, Janice feared losing the one connection to normal life she had.

"Perhaps you would like to come to her coming-of-age?" Lady Gemini smiled inwardly. Even the most solitary of Sisters needed comradeship.

"Would you come?" Wadi almost burst out, then looked sheepish, expecting a look or word for speaking out of turn.

"If you asked me, I would be glad to." Janice kept all her emotions behind a wall, making it harder to be hurt. She felt an attachment to Wadi, as anyone decent would. That caused a stir in her heart, and she was actually excited.

"We share this world," she grinned, wondering what he thought The Order did. Humans, among other races, had the most peculiar tendency to imagine wondrous worlds and magical places. "I am not from this planet, but have lived here since I was an infant, ten years ago. I was raised by the Sisters, and am proud to be one of them."

There were other conversations, other patrons, and she paid them due attention. Gertrude was very good at keeping things moving, and organized besides. That left Narshawn able to chat with the gentleman.

"I am certainly not an authority on the Order, sir, but we do not hide from the rest of society. Several of the women here are Sisters besides myself, and many nights there are others who come in for companionship. Mistress Gal, Lady Sibling, myself and Gypsy's Queen are most often here. I know that Lady Gemini is here tonight, along with Lady Sharon and Lady Diva," she mentioned names, not having seen some of them, but knowing their presence. "What would you care to know? We value honesty and directness."

The man settled his hat and spoke to her, a question.

"I do not believe so, sir." She glanced at the man singled out.

((OOC: She would not be familiar with anyone outside the wait staff or employees. By civilian, I assume you mean not one of the heroes who are currently in the story. Any hints would be welcome...))

"I am sorry sir, no offense intended, but Sisters do not touch others." She knew it was not a strict rule, but that added to her normally cold skin allowed her some space. It was a fact that most Sisters would touch another only in the Order or in need. Her skin temperature was cold enough that a vapor trail followed her, and raising it was very difficult.

She made amotion with one hand, something like an open salute, and smiled again.

"Amber beer," she stated, and beer was one of the few items in the bar she could safely tolerate. Moving to a cooler, she removed one that she appreciated because it was honestly hand-crafted, and all Sisters valued something made by skill.

Her tiny hands placed a waisted glass on the bar, bearing the coat of arms from a small german town where they called themselves Bavarians, Bad Windsheim. Beside that she laid a cork coaster, and set a bottle, still cool, on it. The Star-W insignia from the NorthWest and the hound's head on the bottle proudly proclaimed it "Drop Top Amber".

"Please mind the bar, it likes water but not beer," she smiled. "The beverage is from Widmer Brothers, I hope you will like it. We cannot get it on tap, but it is the best Amber we have."

((OOC: Well, Armitage, I am very impressed that you would research Nar, and touched that you care. ))

Gertrude sidestepped the man, the tray she was carrying remained steady and centered. Narshawn kept track of the comings and goings, sometimes out of the corner of an eye. The newcomer drew her momentary attention.

The ice woman hovered behind the bar, no taller than a short child, and with features more carved than grown, she was often stared at. One of the lessons here in Paragon, accepting the attention. The clothing she displayed was just an extension of her skin, made of ice, controlled by her whim and there simply because society indicated it was proper. Like ice, the color was somewhere between blue and white, hinting at depth.

She smiled as the man made his way to the bar, his simplistic style complimenting the lack of color in his skin. White light behind her eyes, her hair sat like a mountain peak, straight and stiff when her head turned. Her smile usually brought the most attention, tiny, sharp teeth belonging to predatory animals and shaped like icicles.

"Hello, I am Narshawn, welcome to Ladies by the Lake." She motioned to the room, her small hand lingering in the direction of the pool room. "The smoking area is there, but Gertrude will provide a full menu and serve you anywhere. May I provide something for you now? Perhaps to carry with you?"

The wall of flavors behind her was impressive, and truly only a part of the entire stock. Some was valuable, some was standard and some had no label or identifying marks.

The doors opened on a large room, another display of opulence that the Sisters both realized would have been wasted here, since so few ever came this close to the leaders. At the far end of the space, several chairs sat facing their doorway, all empty except for a young woman near the left who went from a posture of boredom to one of interest as they moved inside.

Dressed in a flowing gown, wealth and display seemed to be typical for these leaders, she laughed at seeing Diva and Sibling in the binders. Once the doors behind them shut, the woman stood and clapped her hands.

“See Par, I knew you could handle it.” While the woman talked, Diva’s head swung from side to side and Sibling was checking the room. It was empty except for this one royal, and there didn’t seem to be anyone else nearby save the guards outside the room. “Kevin was all worried, but you know how paranoid he can be.”

Diva’s eyes were much sharper than the twin’s, but as the woman approached them, even Sibling could see she was maybe early twenties, blonde-haired with freckles. Apparently, the life favored her, as the outfit was a little tight and her waist pressed the material, hardly the sort of figure that most in Paragon had. Otherwise, she was dressed sharply, the outfit probably fitted, from her soft-leather shoes to her green and gold dress, some material like silk.

“Where is everyone?” Par’s voice was unsure, almost worried.

“Oh,” she cast the comment out, “haven’t come in yet, and Walt had to go somewhere to settle some trouble. You know better than that, I’m the only one in here before breakfast.” She had been moving toward the two captives, interest apparent in her face. “So, tell me, who are they?”

Par moved between them, trying to keep her occupied. “Well, they definitely aren’t from here, Tasha, but they knew enough not to mess with me. I think I got the council out there to get back in line, too.” His tone drifted towards the arrogance Sibling had heard that first time. Whatever else he was, he was full of himself.

“She’s a big one,” the somehow grating voice observed. Tasha was looking very intently at Diva, the troll woman still scanning the room and not meeting the other’s eyes. Diva’s indifference was all show, Sibling could feel the disgust in their friend’s mind, barely held in check until she realized the room really was empty.

“Hey! Troll, I’m talking to you.” The pudgy woman stepped closer, moving slightly around Par. She was speaking the common tongue, from what Sibling could make out. Arrogance was a trait all these people shared, that and a distinct lack of caution and wisdom.

For a normal human, or likely a troll, the space between this Tasha and Diva would have been enough to avoid physical contact. She stayed a good ten feet back, even after side-stepping Par for a better look. His arms went out, realizing that she intended to get closer, lulled by the binders and the green woman’s captivity. Most likely, these people had never met talents close their own, at least since they left Paragon. With both Diva and Sibling keeping their auras and capes hidden, it was not noticeable they were anything but novices. Still, no Sister would have approached like that, so sure.

“Careful,” Par said quickly, holding the light material on Tasha’s arm. “They’re talents.”

“Ha! This planet has nothing like Paragon, we’ve sent that.” She responded in English, shaking his hand free, knowing that a troll would not understand.

“What makes you think we’re from here?” Diva’s growl froze the two royals, even Par going white. Her biceps broke the binders like cheap toys, white flaring from her eyes and hair. Half a step and she had the woman by the waist, one manicured hand wrapped in the silk. The only response was a terrified squeak from her tormentor and the sound of Par’s feet moving quickly away.

Sibling held the trembling man with levitate, not intending to hurt him. He could not be let run, but his major concern was safety for himself, not exposing the two Sisters. Cliff’s voice in their head was course, *Cowards, Angie. They’re all cowards.*

*Despots and dictators usually are* she replied, hoping that Cliff would not toss Par through any windows or walls. He had been known to.

“Sib,” Diva was smiling at the reaction from Tasha, changing her grip to avoid a dark spot now appearing on the other woman’s dress. “I think she’ll need some clean clothes.”

“Now,” Diva spoke slowly, in English to the freckled woman. “We are here to take you home, where you will be tried for what you have done here. I want you to nod if you understand.” From the look in the young woman’s eyes as she looked far up into Diva’s, she might be able to manage that. The stretched grin and pointed canines in Diva’s smile did not help.

Nod.

“Are the others in this place?”

Nod.

“Will they come here?”

Nod.

“Are you going to try to fight?” Diva’s smile curled up, hoping, and Angela stayed very quiet while holding Par aloft.

Nod.

“Noooo.” Diva shook her green head slowly, like one would with a small child. Tasha mimicked the motion, terrified. “You are going to be very good. You are going to go and sit in your chair and not say anything, and all your limbs will work when we get home. Do you understand?”

Nod.

“Are you going to fight?”

Shake.

“Sibling, let Tasha go back to her seat. I’m going to take Par and find the rest of the royals and attract them here.” She released the front of Tasha’s dress and turned slightly to see her friend. “I don’t want to hurt anyone that is simply a pawn, but I’m sure some of the guards will go down fighting. Stay here and keep an eye on her, Par and I will go fishing.”

Sibling let Par down softly, his color much better now, as Diva stepped near him and activated an invisibility spell. They both faded from sight, only a slight sparkling where they had been. The twins knew Diva, and had no doubts about her skills, they only hoped she would stay cautious. According to Par, none of the refugees was high level, but his powers of observation had proven less than perfect.

They shook off the skullcap and the inert binders, that ruse having been almost useless. Watching Tasha, they realized Diva had probably placed some sort of fear or deception on her, she stayed curled up in the seat like a little girl. Several doors, and no idea which would produce the others, Sibling chose to stand behind Tasha’s chair which hid them from everything but the immense windows, several stories off the ground. They waited.




“You sure we’re goin’ to tha’ same place Ang and D’ are?” Gal flexed her back, the heavy leather stretching and tugging into place in her jacket. She spoke to a much smaller man, who would have been tall and muscular in a human gym, but next to several of the Sisters in the room, he barely resembled a child.

Irmtraud, as tall as Gal’s eight feet but twice as thick, helped adjust the woman’s harness across her back. Gal’s hammer had been forged by Irmtraud’s own hands, the various buckles and rings made there as well. A Fire Tanker, the pale-skinned woman relied on her scarred knuckles and mallet-sized hands.

Nearby, Shock Bubble and Nikky giggled at the leather belt that was all Irmtraud wore for clothing. When they had arrived, days ago, the German woman had worn a course woolen robe, but she would not go into a fight wearing anything but that wide belt. From behind, she didn’t look female, but it didn’t keep Ada from being uncomfortable about seeing her chest.

“Traudl,” Shock laughed as Ada diverted his eyes again. “Won’t you at least put on a shirt?”

“Why so? It will only burn off, and then wasted a good shirt.” She patted Gal roughly on the shoulder, smiling. She noticed the ducked head of their guide. “And I be not shy of what the Goddess gives.” Several of the other Sisters in the room laughed, emotions running high with the possible battle ahead.

“An’ shouldn’t be,” Gal turned and winked, bringing another laugh from Sharon and Lupa. Sharon’s ebony skin was oiled, in tradition, glaring brightly under the artificial lights while she practiced with the two short swords that were her weapons. Lupa, the part leopard woman, crouched on the floor, all nervous energy.

Sparks and small balls of energy crackled around Shock Bubble, who was the smallest woman here except for Nikky. Tiny, petite and normally very quiet, Nikky had an innate ability with weather, especially the cold. Where Shock preferred bright colors and flashy clothes, her friend was always in grey, except for the obligatory green sash that denoted her rank in the Order.

All told, there were almost fifty women in the room, all armed or ready. The portal had been blessed by the technicians, who assured them that it would drop them close to Sibling’s transponder card. Gal was not at all sure, and the evening before had spoken to Ada and his lead techs about this mission. There was no doubt today, if something went wrong, Portal would be paying several disability claims when they returned.

“The best I can make it, Gal. You know I wouldn’t screw you or Sib over.” He was wearing his mission gear, too. He wasn’t going to let friends go into this alone.

“Again, you mean.” The tank looked down at him, her hands and arms coating over with stone. “Damn straight better not. My wife gets hurt in this, gonna’ be Hell to pay.

“Shock, babe, let’s get it started.”

The pink haired girl nearby hovered off the floor, motioning to the control room above. Whatever the technicians did, they started doing, and the metal wheels on the platform started moving, spinning faster and faster. The vortex crackled to life, stabilizing into something like a vertical pool of water, light spilling over the women, each one part of a whole. This kind of power faced down the Rikti or the Hammidon, but Irmtraud had said it best: Come strong, or don’t come at all.

Shock Bubble’s blue-painted fingernail tapped a button on her iPOD, the speakers in her costume spitting out the first chords of Gal’s favorite fight song. Brian Johnson’s wail echoed off the walls, Angus’ guitar screaming…

“Wrecking balls…banging the walls…work hard and tough…want some rough…”

"A simple story." He was almost amused at her lack of ego. The Circle was not yet in his range, but he knew from stories that they could be a force for even teams of heroes. "Simple was nah' what I would ha' said o' it."

That she had seen to keep their date, after such an ordeal, was impressive. He would have understood if she had called to postpone for far less. As it was, he was enjoying her company and the evening.

"I'll na' try you wi' the same methods," he joked, "though I can see why yeh are the center of attention. Yeh fairly sparkle, Lady." He raised his glass in salute.

((OOC: Excellent for you Miss Kitiara, and well deserved the marks are. There is another post coming for you in the next day or so, but I am still getting my rhythm back.))

"Good evening, sir," Candace took the podium as Martin and Jasper walked a short distance away. "Would you care for the dining room or the bar this evening? Both have smoking sections."

((OOC: I am sorry for the long delay, but it could not be helped. If you are still out there, do not think I was ignoring you, only spending some time in bed. I hope you will stay, enjoy some food and some company.))

“Sir,” Martin greeted Jasper when he approached the podium, “There is no phone call, a simple ruse to allow for last minute instructions.” The thin Englishman allowed a humorless smile. “The arrangements are made, only awaiting your approval.” With a small motion of one arm, he directed Jasper into a small alcove, out of sight of his table.

“As I was told, Miss Gypsy cannot determine the exact customs of your companion by a simple passing, but that there are certain symbols that carry through to all forms of summoning. Since you have evinced that the lady is somehow bound, certain of these symbols will demonstrate your desire for her company but not for her servitude.

“Miss Gypsy has said that certain symbols are significant. The Goulasch is typically served on a bed of rice, but your dish will be served on a black plate in a ring of white rice with a noticeable gap on one side. During a summoning or binding, a broken ring means that the summoned is unbound and may leave at any time.” He left out the part Gypsy had mentioned about this usually being the last act a summoner ever performed, as the demon called would typically be very unhappy. Martin’s memory was flawless, and his powers of observation impressive. Five minutes with Gypsy and you would think he actually practiced occult ceremony.

“I have been asked to determine whether you intend to present a ring to the lady, which would be customary. Miss Gypsy seems to believe that a ring would send the wrong message in this case, but she has presented a possible solution, if I can be so bold.”

Martin, confident as only someone with a lifetime of arranging matters could be, waited for Jasper’s response. As he stood, he raised one hand, a small pouch of fine leather in his palm.

((OOC: OK, Betty. You asked for the crew’s help, and thanks to the various backgrounds of my characters, you now have an occult expert at hand. That’s Gypsy, being a Dark/Dark Scrapper. Rings, in occult works, typically denote binding or holding, and are avoided by any spirit or demon. Broken rings are signs of release or freedom, hence the ring of rice being purposefully broken. If Jasper has a ring, Martin may be able to suggest something symbolic that could help.

Don’t let me ruin your story though, I am just along for the wonderful story and ride.  ))

((OOC: All right, time to stop simpering around and licking my wounds. Leslie, my significant other, was kind enough to reply to emails and post here to let people know, but it's time this girl got her game back on.

I may be spotty over the next few days, but I plead temporary drug-induced insanity. I will be replying to you all, and thank you for your patience.

For reference, my computer still crashes with CoH regularly, and I blame I4 completely. The RP boards are my only refuge, since trying to complete a mission is impossible. Two months now, and my problem still exists, so I am throwing myself into RP.))

"Good evening, thank you for calling Ladies by the Lake," the proper english accent carried even over the wire, "may I help you?"

Martin listened for a moment, opening the reservation book with practised ease. He was looking through the names, the caller was announcing a rather substantial party for seating. The date named was fairly open, and there were plenty of tables for that night open.

"And the name I should reserve them under, sir?" His sharpened pencil stopped, hovering over the parchment at the caller's response. No wonder the voice sounded familiar.

"I am sorry, sir," he closed the book and returned the pencil to the tidy podium, "we have no available spaces that evening. No sir, none that evening either." Martin's eyes never returned to the book, he had his instructions. "Certainly sir, one moment."

Pressing buttons, he alerted Gal in the kitchen, and transferred the call to the office. Even a citizen could be offended when those who claimed to care simply stopped being seen.

********

"Naw, he had it right," Gal was outwardly calm, but still angry. "What am 'Ah payin' my taxes for if the City ain't gonna' take care of itself? I mean, the Sat feed an' computer network is a disaster, an' all 'Ah keep hearin' is bear with us, or we're workin' on it.

"Maybe, jus' maybe ya'll should'a thought about the extra strain those eyesore stadiums was gonna' put on." The voice at the other end rattled back, the same tired story she had been hearing for two months while her customers had to deal with errant city services.

"No, you listen ta' me." Even in this office, her head came dangerously close to the ceiling when she straightened. "You and the rest of the Phalanx got an open invite WHEN you can tell me you have a plan. A real, honest to Goddess plan to get things back on track. 'Till then, you don' darken my doorstep."

More words chattered over the phone. Gal massaged a temple, looking tired for the audience she didn't have. It was common knowledge that many of the most trusted among them had simply stopped talking, stopped communicating with the rank and file. Changes had come and there was no explanation, problems arose with no help and critical issues came with no warning. That's what hurt the most, being treated like cattle.

"TRUSTED," her voice rose enough that even Martin heard the echo across the building. "The word is trusted, past tense. You stopped talking, stopped giving us any reason to believe 'cept for sayin' 'wait 'til the next issue'. Ain't fattenin' no more frogs for snakes. You come out, talk and earn my trust again, States. 'Till then, stay in your Ivory Tower, Ah'm sure they got room service." The phone quietly settled into the cradle and Gal took a deep breath. Sometimes being a hero meant admitting you had screwed up, and then really trying to fix it.

Hey, Angie wants me top tell you people that she will write some more when shes back but she cant right now. She siad shes sorry she cant get on here.
Later,
Les

((OOC: Um, it's been a while since the last post, and I don't want this to be a solo thing.))

Gypsy was not even breathing hard, few could match her for outright speed. Once she managed to learn some leaping, she would be an incredibly fast woman getting across town. As luck would have it, the path from the restaurant to the Island involved only one detour for roads. The kitchen was working on the arrangements, as she had instructed them, Vegas and Gal taking care of special details.

"Something like He-rose," the Romanes had lived in Greece almost as long as the Greeks. "We have Fa-la-fell, served with pita bread and tabouli, I think you like that with Hummus. Is made for sharing, like the sandwich you ask for."

She took the order, and nodded at his request for the special. She had heard some of the conversation, and was still learning customs here. In her home, any conversation overheard was for comment.

"The lady speaks well, sometime you need to keep ears to the wind. My people has a saying," she paused, looked down as though in sadness, then back up, "had a saying. A pig can find truffles. Means that some bad can find worse, a little trouble can lead you to treasure, good to know."

Her braid was like a steel rod, even her nod did not cause it to swing. She smiled, predatory but not offensive. Turning, she tried to make eye contact with Crem, enjoyment of meeting in her eyes, then she headed back to the kitchen.

When she arrived, the matters were almost complete. In a few moments, Jasper would be getting a phone call at the desk, and his instructions would be from Gypsy. His reaction might be strange, but she felt that Crem, being a summoned creature, would understand completely.

Beth, like clockwork, stepped up to the table.

"Sir, there is a call for you, someone named Jenny Firkins." She waited for him to follow.

The meal proceeded in relative silence. The girl was trying to sift what Janice had told her, being barely a young woman. Janice was quiet because she had said most everything she knew to say, and the two chaperone's simply allowed these two time.

"I have one thing for you, Wadi." Janice's meal was finished, and she had noticed that her plate contained a fine steak, several vegetables and a thick gravy, while the Sister's plates were simple greens and some stewed vegetables on a bed of plain rice. The Sisters all ate with a constrained grace, slowly and deliberately.

"Traditionally, a young woman receives a gift when she reaches puberty. Since the Bedoo are nomadic, they carry everything with them, from their tents to wealth." She placed her hands on the box, cracking open the lid. "Your mother would have given you this, or something like it, when you were this age.

"Women need to have their own wealth, many cannot own anything except what they wear, depending on the interpretation of the law. So, women wear their money, in jewelry and coins on necklaces." The item in the box was heavy, and sparkled in the soft light. Janice pushed the entire box, the work of an old man in Iran when he had been young, towards Wadi.

"Your mother cannot give this to you, but I have told the Sisters that I will always watch out for you. I never break my word, I have watched out for you the best I knew how. You have become much more than your mother would have ever hoped, and seeing you now, she would be proud." Janice's napkin slipped the floor, and she moved to retrieve it, covertly brushing one hand over her eyes. She closed that hand, the green-tinted tears hidden from view.

"Mother," Gypsy said quietly to Narshawn, near the end of the bar, but out of hearing of the large, flaming man. "It will take no more than five minutes there, perhaps several minutes to find the items, and five minutes to return. But, why would you ask me to do this?"

Narshawn's glance said she would not have questioned her mother, when she had still been an apprentice. This was a different feeling, mentoring Gypsy, being the guide for another. It was also difficult since Gypsy was very new to anything outside her previous life, and taking orders had never been part of that.

"Daughter, we swear to provide help to any in need who serve the good, to protect those who cannot protect themselves and to give anything we have simply because others need it." Narshawn was glad of the long nights she had spent with her mother, Lady Gemini, talking about the principles of the Order. Sometimes, "Be well, Do Good" was simply not sufficient explanation.

"When my mother came to The Lady, asking for shelter, it was given and she was protected. When Lady Sibling was found, cold and alone, they were fed and healed. When I was brought to this world, I was treated as a blood child at my mother's bosom, and when you came to us, you were taken in as a lost sister. When the city was in peril, The Order stood between the innocent and the danger, and The Goddess welcomed many to her side.

"Daughter, of all the things you learn, to give to others is the most important. He has asked for help, at this house, and now we will give it. That he is a man has no bearing. So, go and collect the things you think are right, I will make certain there is a skiff waiting for you." Nar watched Gypsy's face, knowing that if anyone would know how to convey the man's emotions to a demoness, that was Gypsy.

"Now, go, I have work to do, and so do you." Narshawn watched Gypsy walk to the door, open it, and then she was gone. She could outrun the tram, and Talos Island was not so far.

"I beg your pardon, sir." The tiny ice maiden managed to finish a tray of beverages for Gertrude to carry. The place had been busy even before they officially opened.

"I am Narshawn, welcome to Ladies by the Lake." Too short to actually see over the bar, she hovered at a comfortable speaking height. "There are several parties in the restaurant, but I will not neglect you. I only ask that you are careful of the bar, it is alive."

She offered a sincere, very toothy smile. She had learned that her needle-like teeth startled most normals, but in the restaurant, she was one of the least different.