Blurry Lines: Crossing Them IC

Crown Apartment Complex, Eastern Side of Metropolis

Darren's hands glided deftly over the sleek wood, gently strumming the taught strings of his guitar, not needing a reference to check the tuning of the guitar. It took him only a few moments, making minor adjustments that most wouldn't recognize anyway. He was pretty sure Beloved would though. She seemed very attuned to things like that, things most people probably wouldn't notice.

The sunlight wafted down, warm, but not hot. It was bright though, and most people that were sitting outside did so on chairs at tables, beneath the sun umbrellas just outside News Cafe, the restaurant next to the Crown Apartment Complex. Most of the people there were enjoying their lunch in the shade, but Darren felt like standing out in the sun, in the warmth. He had finished his sandwich and chips pretty quick, downing it with a coke. He wasn't really in the mood for a beer, and besides, he had a meeting with Caramel now. He knew that the dream last night wasn't just a normal dream, that it really was a message from Caramel. He was worried that it had something to do with the TV announcement by 'Flawless'. Frankly, it didn't sit well with Darren, and he was hoping Caramel would have some answers. The whole 'totalitarianism utopia' thing had been tried before, by a couple different dictators. Never worked out too well. Darren decided to sit outside, so Caramel could find him easily, without getting lost in the apartment complex. Knowing Caramel, he'd probably get lost enough just on his way over here.

A slight breeze picked up, bringing with it the smells of hot, fresh food, mixed in with the usual scents of the city; cars and smoke and lots of people, all out and about with their own agendas for the day. There wasn't much traffic, but there was still that constant city ambience. It was like the beat of your heart, constant, rhythmic, always there even when you don't notice it. But as Darren leant back against the side of the restaurant, strumming the strings of his guitar, it felt like the city ambience dropped back a bit. Beloved sat on the floor right in front of him, staring up at the guitar and the sounds it made. It was moments like these she looked a bit like the kid she acted like. She loved new sounds, appreciated the world around her in a way few people did. That was special. That was something Darren would see grow. It wasn't only her watching him though. The nearby conversation died down, one by one, as they started listening to the melody strumming off of the acoustic guitar. Then Darren started singing. The words died on each set of lips then, as they listened to his voice, wistful, almost mournful, singing his own rendition of "What it's Like", by Everlast.

Having sprawled his body across the entirety of what was really a comfortable couch, Alex had heard the entirety of the conversation with Viola and the broadcast prior to that. When the question was asked and floated over to his ears, he reluctantly sat up and placed his feet on the floor. He called out to the one around the corner. "I suspect many things about Viola." He searched the surrounding area for the shoes he had taken off and found them somewhat hidden under the couch. "Which topic would you like to know about?" He slipped on his dress shoes, something he was recommended to wear to this little meeting, and stood. As he spoke he rounded the corner and turned to face Flawless, now fingering through papers that had no real interest to Alex at this time. "There's his wife and kids. Has he brought them up to you yet? They're quite cute and they've got daddy wrapped around each one of their fingers." He crossed the penthouse, something that was depressingly empty besides a few scarce pieces of furniture and the desk Flawless now sat at. "There's that hint of annoyance with you hiding in the back of his mind. There's the jealousy, there's the curiosity, and then there's you."

As his footsteps glided across the empty floor, the occasional thud of the hard sole breaking the fluidity of it all, he felt a bit annoyed that he had been called here just to listen to such a broadcast. Hoping there would be something more for him to do here, not one to waste such precious time as that needed to cross the city, he looked towards the man behind a large, professional looking desk. Alex entered the ramparts of his mind, seeking whatever seemed like an interesting topic at the time. This was something incredibly easy for him to do, for no amount of physical perfection could keep out such a thief. Flawless just had a few more locks to pick before the grand treasure could be displayed for his eyes to see. This came to an early end when he stumbled upon a rather troubling piece of information. Such tardiness was not acceptable when Alex had such a person he could be better spending his time with. Oh, but what a clever little liar we have here, going so far as to completely waste human resources to protect something unlikely to come. He could feel the worry, a little stream flowing inside such a torrent of confidence.

He had eventually reached his destination and was now looking down at the one who had recently acquired his unique services. He leaned forward, increasing the angle between their eyes and used his right palm to steady himself against the wooden structure he had no taste for. "You know, even with all your perfection, and well... flawlessness your mind is still open to me. I have paid you a great respect by not peering into it, but when an obvious lie presents itself and when such subtle hints are right before my eyes, the temptation can just be too great." He returned the hand to the pocket of his pin striped pants, something he still felt annoyed with, and took a few steps back. He wasn't sure what the response to his prodding question would be, but he could most likely survive it.

"She seems to be running a little late don't you think?"

Tiffany-blue eyes stared unblinkingly at the television screen in the ramshackle apartment building, watching the man with the sky-irises describe his vision of a batter world. Deep-rooted cynicism scoffed quietly and turned away from the concluding remarks with a sharp shake of tousled blue-black hair. A translucent fingertip ran the length of a precisely-sharpened kitchen knife, removing the flecks of aromatic cilantro from the blade. A slight intake of air marked the err in its path; a thin line of blood welled to crimson life on the surface of her skin. September watched this with a detached sort of expression, features frozen in place as if carved in porcelain. A drop fell, splashing onto the formica countertop, until that moment spotlessly clean, and this broke the stillness.

“You say utopia like human beings can attain such a thing,” she said aloud, though the image had already faded and nobody was around to hear. “Like we don’t corrupt and stain everything we touch.” She moved a few slightly-fumbling steps to the side in her cramped kitchen, running the faucet with icy water and holding the injured digit beneath it. The red was carried away by the water, infinitesimal color lost to the steady stream of hueless lamentation. It was a trivial pain, as nothing for her at least, so accustomed to greater agonies. Certainly, that corruption was in her just as much as anyone else, she made no mistake about that, held no illusions to the contrary.

She’d only ever met a few people she thought might deserve a world like that, and a man so arrogant as to call himself Flawless was not among them. But it was not for her to say, perhaps. She was nothing more than a river-stone, resistant to all but the strongest current, but not so placed as to alter the flow of anything. She flickered on few radars, her name was not whispered into the night next to the who’s-who of the empowered, she did not make headlines or broadcasts or gossip columns. She mingled with neither high society nor the truly wretched, for she was quite wretched enough on her own, and had no desire to be looked down upon more than was strictly necessary.

The cilantro, she scooped easily into the skillet along with the vegetables and homemade sauce, the smell of fresh things and spice filling her tiny apartment to the brim. She’d watched someone on a cooking channel make this, and thus the knowledge of how to replicate that act was now entirely hers, to do with as she wished. For this, she would endure even the pain of standing for an extended period of time. The water on the stovetop was coming to a boil, and she smoothly immersed the noodles within it, working with both hands at once to keep things stirring as they must. Multitasking was not difficult when one could focus on several things at once anyway, and so it was that she caught the play of a smile across his face.

He leaned against the counter, entirely unhelpful as always, and she didn’t even spare the energy to scowl at him. It was only natural that he should be there; she hadn’t slept for more than a full day and a half now. She refused generally to remedy her problems with narcotics, as they did things to her mind that she did not like, amplified only for her capacities, and she would rather have faulty faculties that were her own than sleep regularly.

She paused for a moment, realizing that she’d unconsciously cooked enough for an extra person. September ate as much as two or three people, but this was a bit much even for her. Was she expecting company? It would perhaps not have been unreasonable to do so, seeing as these days she had it with quite a bit of frequency. She played her recent conversations with the company in question over in her head, fact-perfectly, but there was nothing in them about whether she was expecting him today or not. Well, perhaps it didn’t matter. Such things were unpredictable by nature, and though logistics made the chances good, there were always extenuating circumstances, and without knowledge of these, she may as well not guess at all.

Simultaneously, she further considered this ‘Flawless’ person. Truly, who would think to call themselves that? Nobody was an embodied entity without some form of flaw, but even more than that, who would wish to be? Flaws differentiated minds; they yielded idiosyncrasies and quirks even beside the evil that came of them. To be without them… would be to be without that extraordinary capacity to overcome and master them that she had observed in some people, and it was this singular trait that she admired most. There was nothing accomplished without struggle, and to lack understanding of that simplest of facts was to lack… humanity. Hmm… Now there was a consideration. She was aware that her own attitudes towards the phenomena were mixed, perhaps even to the point of contradiction. Then again, so were human beings themselves, so in a sense it logically followed.

Running a hand through her short-cropped tresses, September fingered the ends delicately and sighed slightly, serving herself enough to eat well and leaving the rest. Just in case.

Joshua was in his basement preparing for an outing this evening when the broadcast came on. His television was tuned to a music channel when the blue eyed man's visage took over the screen. The sudden lack of rhythm prompted Joshua to look up, and before the man on the screen could start speaking, Joshua scoffed and returned to his work. He knew the man—Flawless—as some sort of mob boss with a charming personality and powers that engulfed most of the other supers in town. When Joshua had moved back into the city, the crime problem was one of the reasons he took up his current hobby. Flawless was their leader, and he was so bold. Why wouldn't he be? He's got nothing to fear from the law forces in the city, most of whom work for him or ignore him; nothing to fear from the government, too busy with foreign affairs and too scared to harm innocents. This city was practically the man's nation, and everyone in it was both a sword and a shield.

It wasn't surprising that the government was unwilling to step in. They used Joshua in the war, and through that he saw what his superiors chose to ignore. Over there, the children were used as bombs. Here, it was the city itself. It sickened Joshua.

"You think you're idealizing mankind with this move? Wrong. You're mutilating it. No, you've already done that. Now you're burning the wounds closed." Joshua looked up to the television as the man disappeared and his music returned. More human than human, more sicker than sick. How fitting.

Joshua clicked the power off on the television, and the room fell into silence. Above, he could hear the sounds of the city like normal. They were a mask, just like everything else. So many were corrupt, was it worth saving any? Would it not be better to euthanize the entire city? A few innocent deaths to punish the greater evil? No. No matter what greater good is done, it's all for nothing when the innocent have to pay the price. Flawless broke the rule. With noble intentions, he was led astray and what happened earlier today was a perfect example. Joshua lifted his rifle.

The East side wasn't subject to 'utopia' just yet, but the West was. Joshua didn't know how much of a resistance the people on the West planned to put up, but from what he heard on the police scanners, he assumed it wouldn't be much. He couldn't blame them. They weren't super strong or fast, or invisible. Even in numbers they were at a disadvantage. None of that mattered. Flawless's dogs were just street rats. Compared to Joshua, they were just target practice. He figured he wouldn't even need to be invisible. Still, it made for good fun.

---

District Utopia, Flawless' Building Lobby

---

Pyralis stood silently in the lobby of Flawless's Building, leaning against a column, and somewhat pleased by the fact that none of the workers there really payed any mind to his costume. He figured if they were working for the man he had saw on the television, then they had probably been used to seeing stranger things in the very lobby he stood in. His original intent of standing there was to wait for the suited man to pick up Nebula, but the pair had walked past him without even batting their eyes. Perhaps it was because neither had seen him costumed, or they were simply in too big of a hurry to cast a second glance. Really, the only thing that gave away that it was him under that mask was the single amber eyes that peered out from the right side of the mask, the other eye hidden behind the red goggle of the mask.

The very same eye followed Nebula and the formal man as they approached the elevator, got on it, and the metal doors slid closed. "Well, fuck." He said, pushing himself off of the column and slowly walking to the elevator, hands casually placed in his pockets. He looked at the floor indicator and sighed as the floor numbers lit up slowly, finally coming to a stop and signifying were Nebula and the man had been getting off. He raised a finger to the call elevator button and paused, shrugging before bursting into flame. A few moments later, another plume of fire erupted in the elevator as the doors were closing and Pyralis shoved an arm out to stop it. "Missed em' again." He muttered as he stepped out of the elevator and silently walked behind the two, whom still seemed to pay no noticed.

As they stepped into the room, he silently observed the introductions and shook his head as Nebula gave her name. Stupid girl. He thought, recalling telling her once before that using your actual name was a bad idea. Though, he supposed Flawless was powerful enough to get it nonetheless. When the proposition was mentioned, he lifted an arm and gave a small nod before dropping it back to his side. "The name's Pyralis." He said, moving his hands to rest in his pockets once more. "And I heard the same."

---

South Side Slums Power Grid

---

One came to know many things whilst adventuring throughout an entire city's power grid. Some things unwanted, some things necessary. But one particular thing one could learn is the general location of a person. Perhaps one caught of glimpse of someone they knew whilst passing through the circuits of their television. Or maybe they heard them whilst passing through their radio. Or their cell phone, or computer, and so on. This is exactly how Conduit had nailed down the specific location of September. Or at least, he had thought he had seen her when passing through this area a couple times before. He could always be mistaken, of course. And as he emerged from the grid via an outside outlet of an apartment building, Conduit reminiscently recalled the first and last time he had interacted with September had been on the third Tuesday of the month. Maybe it was not something any normal person would remember, but he remembered it nonetheless.

When he turned to observe the apartment complex he had emerged from, he took note of the large 'B' on it's side and figured it would be a good enough place of any to start. He began at the first floor, getting no answers except for a door at the end of the hall, who's resident sadly informed Conduit that he was on the wrong floor and directed him up the stairs. He hadn't been given a specific room number, so he began the process of knocking on each door again, getting no answers once more. By the time he had reached the final door of this particular hall, #221B, he was about to give up. "This had better be it, or so help me..." He began to say, trailing off and knocking on the door with three resounding knocks. He could smell a particularly enticing scent as he shifted and began to wait, giving the resident about a minute to answer, if of course, the resident was even home.

---

Park, Eastern side of Metropolis

---

"I'm lost." Reegan could hardly believe it at first, both that it was the love of his life that stood before him and that he was lost. He smirked and let out a chuckle before letting the smirk falter and putting on a mock face of disbelief. "Oh, you were serious. How... cute." He said, lightly punching Caramel in the arm as he passed him to get on the driver's side of his squad car. Opening the driver door, he paused and looked at Caramel.

"Crown apartment complex, huh? That's a good thirty blocks from here, how in the hell did you get yourself so lost this far away?" He told him, very well knowing that the complex was only about three blocks to the east. "Good thing your looks make up for your lack of brain, love. Get in, I'll take you there." Reegan said, before giving another chuckle and nodding towards the passenger side before clambering into his seat as well.

"Hurry up, cutie. I'm technically not even allowed to do this, and I'm still on my shift. I don't have time to waste."

South Side Slums-- Baker Street Apartment Complex – Apartment 221B

September, having completed the preparations, flicked the faucet with her mind, causing water to gush from the slightly musty tap and into the painstakingly-polished steel of the sink. A little soap and a few more mental commands later, the rest of the food had been stored in a large Tupperware container (apparently there was quite a bit more left over than she’d thought; perhaps Vermuse would like some?) and the dishes were washing themselves at her direction while she levitated her own plate over to the small card table in her kitchen that served as her dining room. She did not levitate herself, though, insisting on walking. She only did these other things with her powers because she had no desire to break any of her dishware should she lose control of her muscles and fall. Her own body would be given no such liberties; it did not deserve the consideration.

It might have surprised someone to know that starving as she was, she ate with precision and dignity. It was true that nobody was around, and the extensive caloric demands of her metabolism were demanding that she shovel her pasta as quickly as she was physically capable, but she had always been a firm believer that you should never behave differently on your own than with company, and she was stubborn about this. She would not indulge herself, she would not disintegrate into a helpless heap only because nobody was there to see.

She was about halfway through dinner when there was a knock at the door. How strange. Alex never knocked, and she was not expecting anyone else… her hand slowly traced its way to the gun strapped to her calf beneath the long boy’s jeans she wore, but she stopped in mid-motion, telepathically brushing the presence outside and straightening. She was not less wary for the realization that she knew the identity of the person; quite the contrary, as she had never given Conduit her address, nor intimated anything of her life at all save the name of the disease she suffered from and her own moniker.

This reduced the possibility that he was here to actually do her harm, for the logic of this would be unsound. If one did not know of her powers, one would simply assume her to be on a slow, rather lonely road to death and leave it at that. Even if someone were to know, like Vermuse and Alex and maybe even Ludis did, it was rather apparent that she was no vigilante. Even so, she remembered the broadcast from earlier and knew that for some people perhaps, those inclined to see the world in absolutes, none of this would make even the slightest difference, and such knowledge bade her to wariness.

Rising from her chair, she slid into the wheelchair that had been until that moment been sitting unused in the corner. She’d walked about quite a bit more today than she was comfortable with already. Wheeling over to the front door, she turned the knob and backed the chair up, leveraging the door more widely open and looking up at her visitor with no discernible emotion. “Conduit,” she greeted tonelessly. “Do you want something?”

He, of course, snickered behind her. He’d always found her bluntness towards others amusing. Less so when it was used on him, but she tried not to talk to him at all if she could avoid it. Still, he refused to stop plaguing her, and she accepted this as something that was unlikely to change.

She knew it would be polite to invite Conduit inside, but there was no way she was going to do that without a satisfactory response to her inquiry, if indeed there was one to be had at all.

---

Alejandro Vasquez was not the kind of man who liked to be bored. Which was why, at present, he was not in a particularly good mood. His assistant had given him some bullshit excuse about needing to take the day off for personal reasons, but he’d been around the block way too many times to even think about believing that. He was by no means a dumb man, and Calista was probably off somewhere putting herself in stupid amounts of danger. With some fucker taking over the East End, pretty much anything was dangerous.

Oh well, what the hell did he care? He damn well didn’t, and if the next time he saw her was when they were contacting him as next-of-kin (they weren’t kin, but he chose to be listed as such for any of his employees who had nobody else. He justified this by saying that he wanted to know if one of the idiots died so he didn’t bother writing their next paycheck) he didn’t care about that either, except to think that she’d be damn lucky and he’d probably be pissed that she got to die first. He wouldn’t be surprised if someone did that just to spite him some day. Yeah, fuck you Mr. Vasquez, I’m gonna do the one thing that you want so bad but can’t do. Talk about flipping a guy the bird.

He really needed something to do. Well, no use sitting around waiting for shit to happen, was there? “Myles, I’m going out,” he called into the kitchen, where his manservant was busy preparing tea. He could have sworn he heard the smallest of sighs, and Alejandro grinned. It was probably almost ready too, but really the old man should expect that kind of thing by now.

“Of course, Mr. Vasquez. When shall I expect you to return?” The butler’s aged voice was tempered by an impressive patience; this man knew his employer’s secret in its entirety, something that nobody else could say with any degree of certainty. His immortality was no secret to those who knew enough to believe the possibility of it, but the story was the property of Myles alone, and for good reason.

“Don’t,” was the reply, laced with a reckless confidence that seemed to pervade everything the older (though younger in appearance) man did. It was the same answer every time. Don’t expect me back, just in case I finally find it.

“Of course not, sir,” Myles replied stoically, but Alejandro was already throwing his long duster over his shoulders, sliding his gloved hands into the sleeves, and shrugging it into place. Between that, his slightly-mussed hair, and the cigarette he was just now lighting, he made quite the image, and he was acutely aware of this. The ability to manipulate his appearance to create a certain effect was a talent he’d honed as an actor, and it only continued to prove itself useful. A pair of shades completed the ensemble, and he stepped outside, striking off down a random path until he found something suitably interesting.

As the song drew to an end, the last of the chords fading to silence, Darren nodded his head to the people sitting at their tables, resting his guitar back in it's case. As usual, Beloved had sat rapt, staring up at him absorbing every last note, but the moment the song was over her usual flow of questions continued. Fortunately, Darren was spared from trying to explain teen pregnancy and abortion to Beloved, who was really was still a child, when her attention instantly swapped elsewhere. He couldn't help but grin as she laughed at the thought of Caramel's hairspray. Just like a small child, she was such a happy person, curious and delighted at everything around her. Sure, she could be a bit of a handful, but she was the kind of person that just being around them lifted your spirits.

And I just can't wait till this sweet little girl gets a good whiff of the real world. Just wait till Beloved gets thrown head first into the deep end of the shit hole that is life. I mean, remember what happened when you lost it? Hehehehehehehe, just imagine that with BELOVED'S powers! Oh-me-oh-my that will be the day, hoo-hoo-hoo a-he a-ha a-heheheheeheeeheeeee

Oh fuck off

More and more, the little voice had started taking pot-shots at Darren, trying to provoke him. It was still very infrequent, but somehow the little ass-hole managed to catch him just as his spirits were lifting. He'd learnt to ignore it, but it still managed to put a serious damper on his mood. Beloved pointing out what Caramel had been driven past in snapped Darren's attention back to the matter at hand.

"I don't know... but the car seems to be coming to a stop. C'mon, let's go see what's going on" Darren said, as he hoisted the strap of his guitar case over his shoulder, starting to walk towards the police car, which was coming to a stop just a little past the Crown apartment complex.

A smirk was one of the few persistent noises in the church, that and the groaning of one Antonio Bombardier. There were few words she would ever say to a man such as himself; he was unforgiving and absolutely disgusting, he had no right to live. She knew how risky it was to still be killing under the rule of that new man . . . she was certain his name was Flawless or something rather. But, if he wanted a perfect utopia, she would help him get rid of all of the scum that had no place in such a perfect world.

She paced around the man on the floor, his hair graying and balding in some places. The systematic tapping of her heels reverberated throughout the whole church, just proving to the dying man just how alone they actually were. Antonio was a man who was used to being alone but it was usually with younger children who never survived to see the next day. Yes, men who were supposed to be working under God, passing his word out to others, were not supposed to take advantage of the trust children had in him.

"Please, spare me." Was the single plea she heard from him. Her perfectly made up eyes turned to him, the feel of her eyelashes scraping against the top of her eyes sending a pleasant chill down her spine. The pleading was her favourite part, she knew they had finally submitted to where all of their victims had been, it was like taking an eye for an eye.

"Did you spare the dozens of young children when you raped them? Did you ever once even let one of them live afterwards? No, Mr. Bombardier, you have no reason, nor right, to live. You will die like all of the other children did and I'll leave you out here to die, alone." She smiled, looking at the pathetic man. He was lying a pool of his own vomit and the tremors had stopped a while ago. She could see him curl further into a ball every few moments as stabs of abdominal pain attacked his nervous system; it would be only a few moments until his life would be taken away from him. And Candy, right now known as Nerium, would leave him here for someone to find him. She had left no fingerprints nor any DNA samples, she was safe. The only thing they would find were multiple strange claw marks with Nerium Oleander inside of them, which would also be found in his digestive tract.

Success was imminent as the man took a few last, wheezy breaths and passed away. She looked down at his body and frowned, no, she was glad she took care of another man like him. He deserved to pity, only death.

She turned her pack on him and she passed her hands through her newly dyed blonde hair, the few loose curls deflating under her hands. She took the back door from the church, leaving the dead body of the former priest lying on the ground. A smile lingered on her features as she twisted her hat in her hands. Yes, she was happy that children would be safe in this area, at least for another while. They would have nothing to fear, much like most of them had been with the disappearances of their friends. But it was a poor area and there was always going to be people who needed to die.

She sighed and looked down at her outfit, the obscenely short skirt practically showing off her underwear and the corset type top just a little too tight, and sighed. She had had a special client, a cop of some sort, who had wanted her dressed up this way. His appointment had been earlier this morning but she saw no reason to get all dressed up only to wear the clothing for a few moments. So she decided that it was cute enough to wear for the day.

She slipped the gloves back on over her hands, now that there was no poison left on her nails and pulled out a small music device, something called an ipod. She had been at a music store the other day and had found an artist in the oldies section, someone's who name was Lady Gaga. She enjoyed the woman’s music, the upbeat and strange lyrics making Candy perfectly content. The beat for most of her songs were hypnotic, she enjoyed it a lot. She had picked up a few other artists too but Lady Gaga was her favourite, it was such a shame that the girl still wasn’t alive, she would have made some more music that Candy could have listened to.

She popped both ear buds into her ear and started listening to the Alejandro song, laughing at the lyrics. With him on her mind she made her way out to his work, which wasn't too far from here. He was fun to bug, especially when he was trying to concentrate. She always seemed to amuse herself with him, he was entertaining.

She soon made it to his building and a large grin fell onto her lips when she saw him leaving the building. "Hey! Alejandro!" She called up as she rushed by his side to catch up with him, her heels making it just a bit troubling to get that far. She tore one ear bud out of her ear and smiled at him again.

"I dyed my hair blonde, like it?" She asked, before rushing onto the next subject, hoping it would irk him to have no speaking time. "And I found a song, it's by some girl named Lady Gaga and it's totally about some guy with the same name as you!" She grinned as she twirled the stick she was holding in her hands that was a part of the costume. "It's totally cool, but anyways. How has your day been, not that I really care, but still. Did anything interesting happen? I mean I just got back from killing Antonio, you know, that priest who was raping the children. He was an asshole." She frowned and looked around, knowing that no one was really listening to the rambling of a whore.