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Tweak says, "Andrew <3 Peter"

whom it may concern (reincarnatenpc) wrote in thereincarnates,
@ 2013-10-28 15:34:00

Entry tags:

!halloween, !plot week, alana king, elliot knighton, mason sullivan, mikael nielsen, rachel young, willa thompson

WHO: Any reincarnates looking for a good time
WHAT: A Halloween night secretly sponsored by... THE RESISTANCE
WHERE: Happy Endings (Chicago, Illinois)
WHEN: Thursday night, October 31st 2013
WARNINGS: Be warned.

For the average party-goer there was a lot to choose from when it came to Halloween night events in the reincarnate community. By dusk the entire place was buzzing, and not just about what the evening had in store for them. Something had been happening all day to everyone, mysterious happenings whispered about in every corner of the community but until now, barely more than a myth only heard by those who had yet to see them. The dead were rising, a metaphor of rebirth for the Resistance turned morbid, and the club was vibrating in the caterpillar's wake.

Happy Endings was a night club, as far as anyone outside of a few privileged circles knew it was simply run by an overly eccentric reincarnate. In reality, that reincarnate was Loki, and his host? He wasn't any nicer and twice as mischievous, and also employed by the reincarnate community's number one terrorist group. Anybody who came to the club that night was in for more than just good drinks and entertainment, though the entertainment was one of the advertised highlights of the evening. Reincarnates of the female and male persuasion booked to perform on stage all night for the viewer's pleasure, what the viewer doesn't know is what's in the air.

Pheromones. The Resistance was hiding behind the name of mysterious benefactor for the night, after all what better way to attract impressionable, unsuspecting recruits than to fool them. The entire thing was a charade, a well-placed lie - the food, the drinks, the music, the glamor, the friendly smiles. All the party was a stage, the guests merely players. As the night goes on the reincarnated party goers will find themselves in touch with their true animals, but as fate would have it that might just be the least of their problems. Let the haunting begin.

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Willa/OPEN

crimelord
2013-10-31 01:18 am UTC (link)

The evening had started hours ago and the celebrations inside the club were in full swing. Willa, was in a word, smug. Everything was going her way, had been for a long time now, and quite frankly she was getting used to it. She liked it when she was in control, which is why she was always in control, so what if the headaches were only getting worse? She still had her thumb on the pulse of every major crime organization from Chicago to Manhattan, and that wasn't even the full reach of her influence. Willa Thompson was a powerful woman, with only one regrettable weakness.

Holmes.

As typical as it was for her incarnation, that annoying Achilles Heel was just as real as it was for Willa now with this newest version of Holmes coming out of the woodwork. The thought of her made Willa sour and her lip curl, though the idea that her Holmes might show up tonight both intrigued and excited her. The delightful thing about a thorn in your shoe like Sherlock Holmes was that he was always surprising you, whether you wanted it or not. Willa was now so completely confident in herself that the idea of Alana King showing up here tonight didn't worry her at all, she merely thought gleefully of how her new found foe would react when she knew what had been done to her companion.

"Another one, please," Willa drawled lazily from her perch at the bar, still fingering the rim of her empty wine glass with the tip of a pointer finger. Happy to stay here with her inner musings and simply survey her immediate surroundings. Now that she was safe and sound from the spirit world threatening to bang down the doors on the outside, unbeknownst to anyone in the club, what else did she have to fear? The Resistance was unstoppable, and so was she. "Make it a merlot this time."

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Willa/Alana.

deductions
2013-10-31 05:01 pm UTC (link)

"A merlot," a voice drawled, unimpressed and without emotion. Alana King actively avoided places such as these. Too many old habits that died threatened her with ghostly apparition. Addiction, one of the seven deadliest sins, had been her downfall in another life, another time. Before Sherlock and the fight for her sanity, the only weakness she'd had was her own naivety.

Now, there was Moriarty.

Without a Watson at her side, it was simply the Detective and the Professor. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. She knew that no matter what she did, where she went, Willa Thompson would never leave her thoughts. At the back of her mind, she dwelled in the shadows. In the darkest parts of her subconscious, there was Moriarty. The spider.

They were inseparable, even oceans apart. The thought would make many uneasy; it only stimulated Alana. Made her want to work harder. Be better. And so, she would. She would rise to the occasion, to the challenge. Not fall. She would never fall again.

"Not a chianti? Liver, side of fava beans?" She took a seat near Willa, as straight in it as she always stood. It was something she couldn't shake.

Sherlock Holmes was something she would never shake.

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Willa/Alana.

crimelord
2013-11-02 10:59 pm UTC (link)

"Mm. Yes, Hannibal Lector and I do have a remarkably similar taste," Willa sneered over the rim of her wine glass, newly received as the bartender all but scampered away to a safer place behind the bar. Poor boy, but Willa couldn't blame him, she had been terrorizing him for the better part of the last hour. She got bored easily.

"Surprised to see you here."

The words were said as casually as one might say them to a stranger in passing, but Alana was no stranger. Moriarty knew Holmes like only Holmes knew himself, and Willa had done her fair share of getting to know Alana with all the inside intel she could dig up on her. The woman didn't have the most exciting past history, but it was her current that Willa was more interested in.

"Should you be out in your condition?" Willa turned to meet Alana's implied gaze fully with a mask of feigned innocence and concern, fluttering her eyelashes after a moment with a wicked smile. Alana's mental instability was her absolute favorite part. So like her Holmes. "I'm sure the good doctor would disapprove."

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Willa/Alana.

deductions
2013-11-05 06:20 pm UTC (link)

Alana took a seat, not bothering to acknowledge the bartender in lieu of her order. Her fingers were folded and she sat upright on her stool. Though she wasn't looking at Willa, it was clear her words were picked specifically and directed towards the woman seated next to her.

"My condition," she repeated. Alana knew good and well what was wrong with her. She didn't need the reiteration. It was Willa's mission in life, however, to never let her forget it. To never let her forget Juliet's disappearance.

"Surely you're better than this: petty jabs at mental illness, the loss of a woman I hardly knew." Her eyebrow twitched upward. "I can understand, of course. You have been a busy woman."

Alana's lip curled. "Not much time for proper retort."

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Willa/Alana.

crimelord
2013-11-07 02:29 pm UTC (link)

"Mmm-hm," Willa pursed her lips together with a gleeful laugh, visibly unable to contain herself for a moment before her features deadpanned and became unreadable again. She was enjoying the night more already, and they hadn't even gotten to the good part yet.

"Right on all accounts, save for one." She leaned in close, bright eyes boring into Alana's profile while the other woman continued to refuse direct eye contact. Willa sneered. "I am better."

With that, she reclined in her seat again with the casual air of someone having an almost pleasant conversation, though if we're being realistic here this did count as a pleasant conversation for Willa Thompson. Two old enemies catching up? What could be more pleasant. "And you are already tragically behind. It's a shame my sweet detective had to be stuck with someone so unfit. Alas, we can't win everything."

She took a casual sip of her merlot and finished with a delicate lick of her lips. "Well. I can. Shall I spell it out for you, then?"

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Willa/Alana.

deductions
2013-11-09 04:30 pm UTC (link)

And this was the part of our evening where Alana understood. Truly, completely. It showed in her hands, in the way her muscles tensed and her fingertips grew paler than they were.

She was dead; Juliet was dead and Alana was only just now seeing it.

When Juliet left her, Alana did all she could to ignore her. To erase her and the very thought of her from her life. It was one less attachment to have. Sherlock, however, was not so easily swayed. For the first few weeks, he kept an eye on Juliet, just to ensure her safety. When he was just certain enough to know that no more harm would come of her—

Oh, but as long as there was Moriarty, harm would always come to those in Sherlock Holmes' life. He was foolish. Alana was even more of a fool. And now, because of that, the repercussions were on the table. Juliet's life was the price paid. And they hadn't even been there ten minutes.

Alana turned her head for the first time, placing her eyes upon the sight of Willa. It caused her jaw to tighten and the bitter taste of anger to rise in her throat.

"What have you done with her body?"

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Willa/Alana.

crimelord
2013-11-10 10:28 pm UTC (link)

"Why, I've left it for you to find. You like mysteries, don't you?"

Willa could not have been more smug, especially when Alana finally conceded to looking her in the eyes. She'd won this round, fair and square, and Willa Thompson wasn't one to waste a good victory. She'd make sure to savor this.

"Don't feel too badly, dear, my history with your Watson far outdated your relevance in this little threesome. I failed to kill her once, I wouldn't fail to do so again. Keep that in mind, for when we next meet."

The death threat was implied, but Willa didn't see the need to elaborate. Alana King was a bright woman, however troubled. If Willa had a shred of sympathy, which she didn't, she might have felt badly. Her past history with Juliet Pierce had very little to do with the newly reincarnated Sherlock Holmes, it was just bad luck on Alana's part that she'd been dragged into it during the final act. Now the last reincarnate of Watson was dead, at the hands of the reincarnate of Moriarty, as it should have been from the beginning.

"Perhaps next time you'll be a little more up to the challenge..."

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Mikael/OPEN

incurring
2013-10-31 04:41 pm UTC (link)

Mikael kept his distance from the meddlesome trouble that was this Reincarnate War. Light versus dark, good versus evil. It had all been done before. It would come to an end, then repeat itself, as it always did. He would be something of a liar, of course, if he said he didn't find a particular favoritism in the likes of the Resistance. They knew who they were; the people such as they always would. It kept things fresh.

Lux was in good hands for the evening. The reincarnate of his faithful companion Mazikeen knew what the place required, especially on an evening like tonight. Hallowe'en was always Mikael's night. He deserved it, for all the quiet he had been. The lure of Happy Endings did not go unrecognized.

He observed, as he did more often than he didn't. One long leg crossed over the knee of the other, a wine glass rested in his fingers. He swirled the contents with a brief flick of his wrist, watching the display the club had to offer him on this fine holiday. Some were dressed as devils, others as angels. His mind wandered to Lucifer's brothers and he thought of Michael, of the true Holy ones that had yet to surface.

In this, he found himself thankful and the Devil drank to solitude in a crowd of unsuspecting sinners.

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Mikael/Elliot/OPEN

fasterkill
2013-11-02 10:31 pm UTC (link)

Unlike all the other devils and angels in the room (seriously, you couldn't get more cliche than that), Elliot was dressed as neither. She also wasn't a cat. Tonight, on this All Hallows Eve night, the cat burglar had come dressed as a cop. Also a bit of an outfit cliche, but for Elliot, you couldn't get more backwards.

If she was being honest, she'd gotten the outfit from her own costume trunk. Sometimes a girl who occasionally robs a bank just needs her own police get-up.

She had no idea who was actually sponsoring this little shin dig, but she knew Happy Endings wasn't on the up and up, hadn't been for a long time. Anybody with half a brain knew this place was just a breeding ground for dark corners and even darker deeds, so where else would Elliot be on Halloween night? Curiosity, cats, etc.

"Ugh. Do you mind?" Elliot stopped short and shoved the guy in front of her who'd just cut her off two steps inside the club, not bothering to look sorry when the force of her shove sent him flying into the nearby wall. "I was walking here."

Officer Friendly-ish zeroed in on the only empty spot at the bar, conveniently close to Mr. Broody with the wine glass and lifted a finger at the bartender. "Shot of bourbon and a beer."

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Mikael/Elliot.

incurring
2013-11-05 05:14 pm UTC (link)

Mr. Broody, as it were, turned towards the commotion. An eyebrow elevated and he took in the scene with a shadow of amusement. In the dim lights of the club, it appeared illuminated, more menacing somehow.

As she took her seat, Mikael tipped his glass in her direction — respect, of sorts. "There are many things to be said for this place, but none so worthwhile as their bourbon." His eyes darted to the man who was both dazed and too embarrassed to open his mouth again in the distance.

A wise decision.

He found her interesting upon first word. A wildcat posing as a house cat. Mikael rarely interacted with the boards, but he was hardly unobservant. Everyone had their little secrets; they all ran around behind bright screens, pretending to be something that they weren't.

Even if they didn't quite realize it. "Put them on my tab, would you?" He told the bartender. "For the trouble." Mikael finished, casting a glance to where the altercation took place.

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Mikael/Elliot.

fasterkill
2013-11-07 02:51 pm UTC (link)

Elliot was hardly bothered by the brief incident upon her entry into the club, but hey. She'd never turn down a free drink. What was even more interesting still was the benefactor behind it, so she did a half-twist in her seat to get a better look at him. She was skeptical, but nevertheless appreciative.

"Thanks." She'd never seen the guy before, and Elliot was pretty good with faces. So what, was he a newbie? Didn't seem like it, but she was already familiar with most of the old timers around these parts. Which meant if he'd been around, he was even better at staying off the grid than she was. Both intriguing and discomforting to the feline masquerading as a badge.

Whatever, tonight Elliot wasn't on anyone else's agenda but her own. This was a night off, so to speak, as much of a night off as a free-lance criminal could get. If he wasn't here to start trouble with her she'd be generous and return the favor. Suspicious as she was, she was even more curious. Throwing the shot back with a hiss she buried in a sip of her beer, Elliot threw the man a sideways glance and raised a friendly eyebrow. "So that mean you don't own the place? Coulda fooled me, you sure sit here like you do. Must be habit."

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Mikael/Elliot.

incurring
2013-11-10 12:28 pm UTC (link)

Mikael watched her and the language her body seemed to be speaking for her. She was as curious as she found him, which led him to certainty that this was one to keep an eye on. There was something familiar about her, something he couldn't quite place his finger on. All the more reason for him to stay interested.

He drained his wine glass with little haste and pushed it back in the direction of the bartender. A scotch was brought to him next, as previously instructed. Mikael nodded his head in gratitude, each of his fingers over the crystal like a tent. Adjusting his wrist, he downed a mouthful of the stuff before finally answering her.

"And old habits, as they say, are hard to put to bed." Placing the drink to the table, he turned to her with a grin that was as knowing as it was enigmatic. "I have a tab at the bars of all my competitors. For occasions such as this," his accent rolled off of his tongue like silk. He reached between the two of them, extending his hand cordially.

"Forgive me, officer," he jested like a gentleman, "I am Mikael."

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Mikael/Elliot.

fasterkill
2013-11-10 11:01 pm UTC (link)

"I'll drink to that," Elliot replied flippantly, downing a sizable gulp of her beer after tipping the rim of it in his direction. Halloween night wasn't one of her favorite holidays, probably because she spent more than half of her time in a costume and a mask anyway so every day was Halloween for her. What was so different about tonight?

She knew the answer to that, knew the rumors she'd already heard circulating earlier in the evening, but so far she hadn't seen any sign of them. Good thing, too. Elliot wasn't exactly a fan of ghosts. Aside from the whole creep factor they were just plain wrong. Things that were dead were supposed to stay dead. There was just something unnatural about the whole coming back from the grave thing.

"Elliot." Elliot took his hand without hesitating, her shake firm and unwavering. She wasn't some delicate flower, but she'd play nice. He hadn't given her a reason not to. "Mikael, interesting name. 'Who is like God'," she recited, mostly to the ceiling before returning his grin with a smirk of her own. "Any truth to that?"

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Mason/Open

thefastestman
2013-11-02 10:53 pm UTC (link)

Mason didn't want to party that night. No, not at all. If anything, Halloween was the optimal distraction to wreak some havoc on the supers to knock them off of their little high horses and right into the dregs with the rest of them. He had a lot of hatred towards the Avengers and the X-Men--with a little left over for the Justice League if only because he really hated Jennifer Hill--and he was aching to release it. They had an entire building full of hairbrained inventions created by Reed Richards himself and not a single person they could use them on at the moment.

Because, unfortunately, Mason Sullivan actually had a job since being the leader of a terrorist group didn't pay the damn bills. He'd been working at Happy Endings for as long as he could remember, and every day it was the same damn thing. Tend bar. Listen to stupid drunken sob stories. Imagine killing every person he talked to. Flash a fake smile. Collect tip. Repeat. It was a dreadful existence.

Halloween was no different except that now the drunken morons were also dressed up in stupid costumes. Mason was already trying not to reach over and suffocate the stupid Dracula who was ordering a Bloody Mary to "be ironic." The better irony would be if Dracula choked on the damn celery in his drink.

"What can I get ya?" He asked monotonously at the next person, not even looking up to see who it was. "And if you order a Bloody Mary, too, I might be forced to make it extra bloody and you won't enjoy it."

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Mason/Rachel/Open

absorbings
2013-11-07 05:02 am UTC (link)

Rachel knew she was asking for trouble. Then again, trouble was her and Rogue's middle name(s). It also helped when you had a handy dandy mutation that could kill with a touch like they had, but still. Rachel had learned the hard way that sometimes her powers weren't all that mattered. That didn't stop her from coming here tonight, though. Happy Endings, her old place of employment, and current breeding ground for a lot of their enemies.

Didn't bother her one bit, though she knew Nate wouldn't approve. Mostly because she hadn't told him she was coming here, and if there was one thing Nate and Gambit hated it was not getting invited to things. Rachel was determined to leave her mark on this place, so it was with a stubborn lack of self-preservation that she walked into the club that night. All but counting on certain people to be there.

"Such service," Rachel drawled while leaning her elbows against the edge of the bar top and crossing her arms. She was dressed as a twenties flapper, an old costume recycled from her days of dancing on the stage at Happy Endings. Rachel wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the whole Halloween thing, but she did love to dress up. She flashed Mason a smirk that was practically a sneer. "What's the matter, left all your flair at home?"

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Mason/Rachel/Open

thefastestman
2013-11-09 11:55 pm UTC (link)

Because the night couldn't be annoying enough, now his customer had to be one of the annoying X-Men that stood on their pedestals and sneered at everybody else around them. Mason stared at Rachel with barely concealed contempt, feeling the vein in his neck throbbing with annoyance. If he didn't need his paycheck he would have just left. Alas, Mason needed his money, and there was a certain sense of self-preservation that even he still possessed; pissing off his god boss wasn't in alignment with staying alive.

"Yes," Mason deadpanned, his arms folding across his chest. He could stay there and get his paycheck, but that didn't mean he had to serve her. "It's right next to your dignity. You actually left the house wearing that?" He nodded at her costume, before snickering. If he couldn't attack her physically, he sure as hell was going to start chipping at her self-esteem. He'd had it done to him enough times with his father to know how it was done.

Somebody down the bar called out for service, aggravated that Mason was still talking to the pretty blonde. He seemed to have completely misconstrued the current conversation--the bar patron seemed convinced that Mason was flirting with Rachel rather than imagining the best ways to kill her. Mason responded simply by flipping him off. Employee of the month wasn't exactly his title.

"No clingy boyfriend? Little mutant rat pack?" He snorted. "I thought you guys all traveled in annoying cliques and whined in unison like yappy dogs."

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Mason/Rachel/Open

absorbings
2013-11-10 09:35 pm UTC (link)

Honestly, Rachel knew she was crazy for coming here, especially without back-up. It wasn't that she doubted herself and her own abilities, it was just that after spending as much time with the X-Men as she had it was sort of drilled into her brain now that it wasn't just her. They were a team, they acted together, and if one of them acted alone then it could hurt the team. The problem was, Rogue wasn't always a role model team player, and neither was Rachel.

"Is that the best you got?" She gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes, using that movement to casually check out her surroundings at the same time. It never hurt to be paranoid, especially when you were technically inside the enemy's camp. Just because she was confident in herself didn't mean she was going to be stupid enough to underestimate Mason Sullivan. For as much of an ass as he was, he was also annoyingly fast. Besides, he could attack her delicate sensibilities as much as he liked. She knew she looked good.

She didn't sit down but she made herself comfortable, leaning further across the bar so to the aggravated bar patron it probably also looked like she was flirting back, but she most definitely wasn't. Ugh. As if. "I gave them all the night off," Rachel sneered, resisting the urge to reach across the bar top and clamp a hand down on his bare arm. "What about you? No creepy sister or band of insane mutants backing you up tonight? Didn't think you guys did anything but murder and steal."

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