Who: Regan Wyngarde (Open to Anybody) NPCs: Clubgoers When: 11/11 Where: NYC Nightclub What: Regan celebrates her birthday in style. Rating: R
Regan was starting to feel like a feral dog on a chain, and she was starting to wonder if it wouldn't be worth it to relocate to London or Genosha or even bloody Japan again to ride out the Mutant Registration Act. It was on its way out, but her face was still a thing of public record. She had taken to using her mutation liberally and even wearing wretchedly itchy wigs when going to crowded places.
There were things to be done in New York, especially for the Hellfire Club, but dammed if she wasn't going to have fun on her birthday. She found a place with thumping music and dark corners and opened up a bar tab. She'd found a gorgeous spaniard to keep on a leash for the night. He followed her around like a lust-struck pup, and she ground against his hips while they danced.
"I wish I could stab you right here...bathe in your blood..." she hissed into his ear. Of course, all he heard was the thumping of the music that she was pressing into his mind. Maybe later, she thought to herself, she would crawl into whatever bed in whatever crowded apartment he came from and screw his brains out and find some roommate or neighbor to trick into shredding this idiot into pieces. She glanced all around them. So many sheep. She wasn't made to be hiding from them. She was the wolf, and she didn't need wool to get close enough to make any of them bleed.