Super Hero High discussion

.....

After the two had been knocked out, the people in white had taken their weapons, then took them away from the school.

It was night; The only light came from the stars, moon, and a few lampposts. Surrounded by garden supplies, in the back of a Lowes and outside, was a white, garden shed. The shed wasn't one of the huge ones, just 7 x 4.5; Just big enough to hold the basics, and two people.

As for in the shed, there was a hose; A small, plastic, kid shovel; Flower pots; And, of course, two unconscious, tied up supers.

The drugs drained from Remy's system quicker due to a insanely high metabolism that burned even some of the most common drugs such as advil or alcohol.

The shed swerved into view as if from the bottom of a fish tank, rippling.

Remy's eyes were definitely glowing. He lept forward in a spring only to find himself tied again. His head hit concrete.

Cursing for being so stupid, Remy suddenly felt the presence of one other person in confinement with him. His glowing eyes allowed for her to be recognized and all the night and day's past events became clear.

He kneeled next to her, noting her breathing and frazzled hair and touched his finger to her hand binds. Carefully, he placed a few fingers under the binds as far as they allowed so he wouldn't make contact with her skin when his charge burned through.

The rough edges melted like metal wires in a secure safe.

He did the same to her ankle binds and than to his. The only ones Remy couldn't veritably get were the ones on his wrists due to not being able to bend his hands that far.

He smirked to himself in the dark, laughing quietly as he placed the wrist bind to his nose and attempted channelling the energy there to burn through. Remy couldn't burn all the way, it would smite his skin but it did a tough job of wrecking most of the fabric..

About ten minutes after Remy woke up, Jake regained consciousness. She frowned slight, faintly looking annoyed. She blinked, then instantly squeezed her eyes shut and bit her tongue to keep from crying out.

When she'd been knocked out, she'd stopped using her powers and left the mind she'd been in. Even though they'd had no effect, they'd been working and trying to control the man's mind. The result was that she'd been granted with what she liked to call a Level 4 headache.

Level 4 headaches lasted for 60 to 75 minutes and made Jaze's head feel like it was loaded with explosives that repeatedly went off, over and over again.

Her facial expression visibly showed that she was in pain, but she didn't make any sounds that confirmed it. It had been a very long time since she'd had a Level 4.

Faintly, once she managed to push past the pain long enough, she was aware that someone else was with her and that her hands and ankles weren't tied.

"Take all de time y'need," A delightfully gruff voice said, irking a part in her memory.

She was having what he liked to call 'Telepath headaches', not that he knew she was exactly one of those but it was always the same with them. Their expression would scrunch, their hands worked to their temples and they usually cried out in pain.

He half expected Jean Grey's voice yelling 'I can't hold the car any longer!' Or the professor crouching in his wheel chair, clutching his head in agony. 'That mind is inapproachable'.

Yes, a good percentage of the X-Men where telepaths and a surprising amount had dated Scott Summers.

Call this counter intuitive but Remy didn't feel like he had any right to intrude on her space when she was obviously trying to suffer in silence.

"You'll feel relaxed in an instant," he said, again, surprisingly melodiously, his eyes glowing once more, "I gave y'somet'in to ease de pain."

((I'm gone for 3 days, sorry.))

((I'll be ghosting for about 2 days..))

Jaze now had her hands pressed to her temples. She was taking deep and slow breaths, trying to ignore the headache. Then something she hadn't been expecting happened.

She faintly processed that Remy had said he gave her somethingn to ease the pain and silently thanked him. Her headache had faded a bit; So instead of explosives going off in her head, it was just throbbing.

Eyes closed, she slowly pushed herself up into sitting position. She opened her eyes after a minute and looked at Remy. "How....How did you do that? What did you give me?" she asked, a small frown on her face. She saw his glowing eyes and thought, Casino clerk, eh?

He looked to the ceiling and then back at her like a cat in the dark, "You'll continue to feel betta' for as long as y'need. Just remember ta take a few Advil or morphine once dis whole venture's of yo's' done," If he told her what he'd given her, it would not only stop working but it would sound cheesy and the poor thing didn't need more of this jumping into the army.

Remy was picking his nails when he said, "What'ya say we walk outta dis place," he thumbed back at the unlocked door, beside the snake skin hose which served as a trip wire, "We'll talk den and if y'want ta see dat school o' yo's it's probably a good time ta show you da police headquarters. Make some friends der, get a shock blanket... Y'know, de orange ones." Remy had a few questions for her, himself.

He unfolded his legs, got up off the sturdy flower pot and pressed an ear to the door to make sure it wasn't ticking or something cliche.

She was quick witted and he knew that keeping her in a know to know basis would be incredibly hard which is why he'd already constructed a plan to leave her the moment she was back in safety. Whatever that meant. It was already coming clear that he wasn't as smart as he'd first thought (it was hard to be).

Jaze was putting him together like a puzzle in no time at all. She was the time bomb by now. Maybe it had to do with her being too observant and knowing that he had some kind of talent.

Jaze certainly had one.

Outside, there was some kind of beating thrum of music. Not exactly car sound but the obvious partying in a banquet restaurant, probably not a chain but there weren't many none chain restaurants in usual parking areas these days.

He avoided my questions, Jaze thought, watching and listening to him. He's hiding something. Or somethings. Does that mean I can trust him? Then she heard the words 'police headquarters'. That would be a nope.

"No." Even though her headache was still bothering her, the way she said that one word proved that she could be stronger than she looked. "I am not going to a police station to make some new friends."

Her eyes were narrowed and she had a sort of determined look on her face. Slowly, she stood up, not exactly showing how tall the shed was. Another reason she stood up slowly was because she didn't trust her headache, even if it was smaller. If it had been darker, it would've been hard to see her, even with her bright yellow sneakers on.

"What I am going to do, is go back to my school to help," she told Remy and his glowing eyes. "I'm not going to sit back while knowing that they're under attack. And honestly, I don't care if you're against that or not. If you are, then oh well. If you aren't, feel free to tag along."

Even in the situation they're in, Jaze's personality was clearly shining through. Being kidnapped didn't affect how she acted.

It took him a split second to make a choice, "Kay, I'll help--but I got stuff somewhere in dis city. Remy don't like bein' helplessly unarmed," he shrugged casually, "So, stop by de dollar store, stop by an ally and yo' got yarself an army," An army of one homeless street urchin who did parlor tricks and played card shark for a living, he added mentally. But she didn't need the details. "So we gots a deal?"

Do we have a deal? Let's see. He said he'd help and get some help. There're always two sides to a deal. Where's mine? Jaze thought. Her face was blank so he wouldn't be able to tell what was going on in her head. "Not quite. What's the catch?"

Arising the perfect oppurtunity to take his things, leave everyone behind and jump to the next city via the rails, he wiped that idea clean off.

This was no typical attack and if she was right about the type of students inhabitting her home, America would have much worse to deal with. It wasn't like the FBI had any hand in this, there would be no files kept. The attack screamed supernatural power lords with too many hours in the day­. Those guys were the rabbits of australia, and from the looks of it, breeding in numbers like a petri dish. It could take a cut at his buisness later on and seeing another group of kids go missing off his streets would be brutal again. Too many women and children disapeared from their homes as is, there was no room for another prison uprising.

Poverty was like a Liberian prison cell and worse than all others, children were born in it, food wasn't schedualed.

Rémy actually had to think about it, "De catch is dat you'll get to see de ugly side o`life. Yo' young, y'dôn need t'waltz de streets of de nor' end wit' a complete stranger. De chances of being mugged is 'nough pour toi, non?"

"The ugly side of life?" Like I already don't know how ugly it is. I'm a freaking superhero who's been kidnapped and is stuck in a shed with, like he said, a 'complete stranger', she added mentally. "Deal," Jaze said, though.

Rémy sensed that she was unwardly mocking his words so he splatted on a sloppy smile, "Jus` dôn start any brawls y`can't win."

"Bien... Dollar tree first," he added, cracking his knuckles and pocketing the plastic shovel before bending down for the hose and clasping it in one hand.

"D'y' got a hair clip?" The old picking the lock with a hair pin trick was in the essence.

Jaze smirked, knowing what he need it for. She answered by pulling a bobby pin out from behind her ear and giving it him. "Here ya go."

Accepting it graciously with a gentle 'Merci', Rémy jiggled the bobby pin into the lock, hearing it click in an instant under his steady hold. Lock picking was probably the only boy-scout badge he'd ever have been able to acquire and strangely by now the most useful. Shame the set wasn't an official skill.

The bobby pin's swashbuckling trip didn't stop there. Suddenly a rather pleasing metallic sensation tickled their nostrils, growing into an acrid, shoking smell of wilting iron.

Retracting her device completely unharmed he assured, "De old t'ing's use'less now. Dey wôn' be lockin' any in dis box 'gain."

The bobby pin smelled of atmosphere and was still reddish from turning the inside of the lock into a hot, melted mess. He blew on it and patted it into the palm of her hand.

"Doth smite'th de greatest locks," he said before pushing open the door with an elbow. It's hinges were smooth and oiled. From the dark cavern behind Lowes, the two could peer into a very empty night of gruff sand on the parking lot and one long furniture truck which (fortunately) wasn't needed to be hotwired.

No snipers hung from the roofs, it was like whatever those things were, they had no care of what happened to their prisoners as long as they had one night to attack.

Rémy scratched the back of his neck, still clasping the hose in his other hand. Why they didn't just kill them was a mystery to him.

He stepped out into the night with one bare foot, "Dey're nice 'nough to put us close to da Dollar Tree and Casino," What would they ever do without those? "Guess dey expected some rich ransom brats dat didn't know to well how'ta get outt'a hostage situation."

Jaze kept a frown on her face, thinking. She spun the bobby pin back and forth between her fingers, looking at it while she did so. It's never this easy, she thought.

She looked up and looked over Remy's shoulder at where they were. She saw the Lowes and frowned further, but didn't comment. "'Rich ransom brats'? If we were rich ransom brats, we probably wouldn't have been fighting back against them. Instead, we'd probably have bodyguards doing the fighting," she said under her breath.

"But y'are from a school. People pay for innocent school children to be saved all de time--Yeah, yeah, I know you're supers, sha. Don't need t'remind me," he didn't seem to find the word 'supers' very endearing. In fact, they were bad taste in his mouth.

No snipers in perimeter but there--a camera.

Jaze rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to tell him to shut his pie-hole. It was very hard to keep herself in check, but she managed to do so. She did make a comment though. "And apparently you are a super, too. Yet, you don't go to the school. Oh! And the fact that when I met you, you were tied up and gagged." Her tone had a hint of sarcasm in it.

He walked out to the middle of the parking lot with his hands out, palms up like in a religious icon, waiting to be shot.

Not a gun movement at all. Not a silencer. No victim pinned by ironic flying metal bird.

Remy let his hands down, "But we bot' know dat no one's gonna pay ransom fo' a nobody," he said looking back at her with a gleam in his eye, "Supers are famed, mutants," That word dropped the temperature in the air by seven degrees, it weighed a ton, it dipped against one's beating heart and squished it to the ribs, "Mutants are de wolf's head."

(({{People in the 12th century who were declared enemies of society and allowed to be killed by anyone who dare pleased}}))

Mutants were terrorists, that's how Fox, NBC, CBC and BBC News portrayed them. They bombed public buildings, they overthrew police with their sick deformities. One from the News--only last week--had been particularly shocking. He'd had witch green boils painted across his ghastly face and the tongue of a giant amphibian toad. His inflamed parotoid glands were mistaken for human warts and they flashed roughly with his ugly charred dreads. He'd been sticking his tongue out for his prison photo. Grimacing in pleasure from attempted murder of the First Lady. His name: Todd Tolansky.

Thousands of those photos hung worldwide. A little girl who'd slayed her parents when she'd made her nightmare a walking monster who'd come to life around her in her sleep. Someone who'd kissed her boyfriend and watched as he fell into a life long coma. There was no end to this plague. Mutations took people when they were young and destroyed their every chance of being part of society.

Some people deserved their superpowers and grew to be protectors of the Earth. However, when any old hormonally imbalanced Jimmy or Jenny could breath fire and release toxins from their skin pores... complete pandemonium and total unnecessary death.

Super heroes needed to stick with their own and show the gaping difference between mutants and divine glory.

Mutants.

"Don't compare m'to y'guys," he said fiercely, knuckles whitening and back to her, "Y'just trouble."

"Says the man who has been tied up twice in the past twelve hours," Jaze responded. Her voice no longer had the sarcasm in it. Instead, it was low and not very nice.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten in her head, trying to calm down. She wasn't about to pick a fight with a guy who could turn playing cards into flaming projectiles. If you don't have nothing nice to say, keep your mouth shut, she thought. I can do that.

She stepped out of the shed, putting the bobby pin behind her ear. She looked around, noting her surroundings and allowing her eyes to adjust. So, they got two hostages hoping to get a ransom payment. Yet they didn't guard the hostages in case they tried to get out or in case of a rescue attempt. Those dudes seriously underestimated us.

As she took in the scene and the night's chilly air, she started wishing she was in uniform as The Ghost. The Ghost's uniform was defiantly warmer than a tee shirt and shorts.

Despite all the harsh words, Remy still patiently waited for her to follow him, a few steps from holding out an elbow out like her prom date.

"Y'comin'?"

((I'll go with close to.))

Jaze looked over at Remy and nodded. She walked up behind him, nearly reluctantly. Nearly. "Lead the way, buddy boy."

He smiled with all his airs and graces, quoting The Princess Bride, "As y'wish."

Once they'd switched streets, taken a few long routes in dark allies and all around gotten used to the vacant crepuscular glow of a city at night did he actually take her into the heart of Gotham*.

They stopped outside a pawn shop, having never spoken once since. Spotting across the street the glorious glowing sign of Dollar Tree all caged and broken like there was actually something worth stealing in that plastic world.

Endless, savage streets filled with muggings and smog etched themselves around them, providing a dusky symmetry for our heroes awakenings. But Gotham was not about the heroes, no, what brought Gotham alive was it's corruption and lawless nature.

Street lamps buzzed and even they murdered. Thousands of moths died every night and their bodies did nothing but whither away.

One wrong move on Lincoln Street and your body would be found fondly sunk at the bottom of a river.

Yet it seemed nothing bothered the two, so caught in their own pride that a city with a crime rate seven times worse then Detroit was just another bug to squish under their boots.


((*It is literally Gotham. Since it's possible in this RP to be in Metropolis or on the S.H.I.E.L.D copter, I'm allowed to take a guy from a rival universe and insert him in the middle of Batman town.
I don't even think he knows where he is. As long as it's not his home city, he doesn't bother to check the map which could lead to trouble for our characters.))

((Lol. Niice. It occurs to me just now that I've never actually watched any DC movies..Oh well.))

Jaze stayed close to Remy, not really wanting to get lost in a town she hadn't been to before. She stayed silent, even when they stopped in front of the pawn shop. She looked at the Dollar Tree across the street, raising an eyebrow.

Some place for part of an army, she thought, but didn't actually say that out loud.

((You need to see the Batman trilogy (first movie trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YRcyl4... ). It's even better then X-Men and I'm obsessed with X-Men.))

A scream shattered the air from a few streets over, Remy did nothing but look up to the sky, probably counting the streets from where it was.
When they moved stepped into threshold of a store that shouldn't be open this time of night, he said, "Don't run ova der, some weird bad people be here in dis town," he only ever saw what they did after they did it. Needless to say, he'd always wished to arrive after the police cleaned up.

DING

"I'm sorry sir and mam'," The women at the counter said, "We're just closing."

She was a tiny blond thing who could barely pass for sixteen.

Remy shook his head, his back to Jaze.

Next thing they knew, he practically purred to the woman with the voice of a noire movie, one that only sang for her and which felt like an outlet of the chivalrous, mysterious guy every girl dreamed about, "Just let us browse fo' a while~ Y'won't be disappointed by nos achats. Plus yo' lonely. When we're done we'll walk y'out in safety. Win win ideal."

The women, once speculative by his rich clothing and the girl beside him (trying to put together a believable story on why a silk shirted gentlemen would be running around with a teenage girl in shorts) suddenly froze under his gaze.

"A-are you a policeman?"

He paused and spoke, "Somet'in like dat. We mean no harm... believe me."

Normally if someone says 'Believe me', especially a guy in his late teens, it was an automatic sweet nothing which meant blip.

Oddly, the cashier let out a breath of relief and looked up timidly, blushing to the roots of her hair, "Th-thank you for this."

"It's our pleaz'a."

He turned and said to Jaze personally, "If y'want some chips or sometin', feel free. My wallet's not so poor to not afford it," and then he dived into the the party stuff and kids toy sections, picking random things off the shelf such as plastic dolls, metres of metallic party streamers and most of all, stacks and stacks of playing cards. They filled his arms up to his throat as he let them down on the counter.

((Uhh, she's wearing shorts. I'll just go with that they're jean shorts..))

Jaze didn't grab a bag of chips. Instead, she grabbed a jacket to keep herself at least a little warm while out in the chilly night. It wasn't a high quality jacket, but it would do the job. It was what she called cute. It was black and had cuffs, which she liked.

She noted that the cashier hadn't suspected Remy of anything and bought what she said, but she still didn't comment. I'd bet ten dollars he has more than one power, she thought, keeping her face blank.

Her trust in him was decreasing. For one, he'd been tied up and gagged when she met him. The less she trusted him, the less she talked and the less emotion she showed. It was what she did. It came off as being shy most of the time, which was how it was coming off now.

((Sorry, sorry. That detail, I'll change it.))

And Remy could sense that abnormally low trustfulness in her yet he didn't seem out to gain it at all.

His first words to her, the ones at the swamp, were meant to repel her--maybe even to make her wary and easy to discard of. Not to mention that while he could seduce and suggest trust in others, he'd only used it as another barrier from Jaze.

Remy came back with stacks and stacks of card decks which were checked out in some odd assembly line format while he chatted with the cashier adamantly, making a comment which made her snort with laughter. He took his shopping bag and motioned for Jaze to come, the bag hanging off his arm along with the cashier whom he'd promised to walk to her apartment a block down.

He wasn't making her trust him because he was afraid, for some reason, of trusting her, himself.

((In the old series, he used to talk in third person--as ridiculous as that sounds, he did it because his power is suggestion and if he suggests that he's a nice, good looking guy who's humble, the unknowing figure will find themselves seeing the truth in that--even if it's stubble.))

((That makes sense. Sneaky and weird, but sensible.))

Jaze took her new jacket and put it on, zipping it up as she followed Remy. She was getting impatient and wanted to get back to her school to help defend it.

Her headache was gone by now, so she could use her power without worrying..Much. She was positive that if she could find one of her fellow students' minds, she could lock onto it and use it as a guide to get back to the school.

She kept her temper and attitude in check, giving him a chance and staying silent. If we don't find his help within' twenty minutes, I'm going back, she decided.

((It was the only TV show where he was a good guy.))

Remy came down from the apartment, holding a piece of paper which could only be the cashier's number. He'd walked her to the door and now he was coming back for Jaze, "New coat, it's nice," he commented, stopping a few feet from her.

He could feel the heat of anger rolling off her stiff figure. She'd probably forgotten how to sit, her posture was so unforgiving.

He grinned, broad and full of amusement, "We're near where I worked, you won't worry. If you got a favourite ammo store y'd like to go to, don't let Remy stop you. Y'did say those of your power's ain't working," so he had been listening, "It's not smart ta run into battle wit'out sometin'."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," Jaze responded, glaring. She wasn't very pleased with, well, any of this. While Remy appeared to be enjoying himself and taking his time, her school was under attack. She wanted- And need -to get back and help.

She didn't tell him that her headache was gone, not wanting to tell him. What she also didn't tell him was that she could probably use her powers against the people in white..Just in a different way.

Remy acted like she'd just handed him a piece of cake.

"No talkin' den. S'cool," he said widening his step by double so that the pavement rolled. The air of Gotham was thick with smog. It wasn't his favourite belle ville. There was nothing belle about it.

They came to a crack between tightly set buildings, leaving space for a blinding place the size of Walmart stacked thrice. Sure enough, there--There was a broad Casino royal shinning Kleigh Lights all up in the murk.

Otherwise the Keligh lights would be known as arcing search lights, projecting a strong focused beam of light into the night sky.

During the wars, those were used for spotting enemy aircrafts but these days, those lights were positioned outside of nightclubs and big Hollywood premiers. It was sad really, what the rich could afford. Sparkly lights to shine in their faces while people scavenged trash cans in the dark.

"I could get you one of those if y'want," Remy said, he'd been so quiet that it hadn't come into notice, a coat was on his arm--which would have looked classy had it not been the most battered trench known to man.

"I don't know--," he picked out his eye contacts with the dirty ends of his fingers,"--what they'll do but at least y'could blind da enemy," he blinked a bit, setting her with red disks of iris on parched black sclera. He tugged on the arms of his trench and held out a grimy hand.

There was nothing rich about him now, he was just some beardless hobo you found on the street that happened to have red eyes.

"From now on in, " so that both lives don't get too mixed, "M'names Gambit. Et vous [and you], Jaze?" He looked down at her with what was meant to be comforting if the eyes weren't creepy as heck, "Yo'," he smirked, "Hero name."

That would explain the glowing, Jaze thought as she took in Remy- Wait, no. Gambit's -new appearance, along with the red irises. Now that he wasn't wearing contacts, his eyes were creeping her out. But, of course, she didn't say that out loud.

Instead, she smiled slightly when he asked for her hero name. In the dark, she was hard to see. Her black jacket and hair blended in with the night; Plus, her shorts were a dark shade of grey. It was almost like she was wearing night camouflage. The only way you could see her was when the light from the Keligh lights hit her pale skin.

"The Ghost."

Now that's more like it. The girl was giving him the chills. He was really starting to see the beauty in the person in front of him. But perhaps the lack of sight was what made him completely leave all previous ideas behind or he had a really short memory.

"Your turn ta lead de way, Dah Ghost," Gambit hoped she didn't go disappearing on him now, "We goin' seek divine retribution so taxi cab, grand theft auto or d'you have some other method in mind?" Despite how sure that sounded, it was clear that Gambit didn't have a clue where her school was.

The Ghost took a moment to think it out. She didn't want a taxi driver to find out the location of the school, especially when it was under attack. People didn't tend to react logically(Unless you count running and screaming) when they see a battle scene full of people with powers that can't be explained immediately.

"Grand theft auto," she answered. "But you'll be driving, because I have pretty much never driven a car before. Add that to the act that I'm only old enough to have a learner's permit and not an actual license."

"Good point," he agreed slowly.

Remy's driving experience mellowed down to jumping the subway lines, getting an inch close to winning a plane in poker and hijacking a Harley when he was fourteen. Actually driving? Well, you didn't need much of it when you mooched a bed at night from the kindness of strangers. Oh, the Ghost would drop him there and then if he elaborated those living conditions. There were some other serious politics involved in recruiting him. But nothing could hinder the mission.

"Bien, yo' a Telepath, can't y'steal anot'er person's will ta do it?" An' another person's car, I got no house. Preferably from a rich person, there's a whole Casino out there.

He suddenly pulled her to step into the shadow--there she was practically invisible, if not already before.
"We been followed for a while now," he whispered gruffly, "We bett'r make dis quick," his laser pointer eyes searched around but nothing was found.

It was starting to become very easy to see why her hero name was The Ghost. Frowning slightly, she stayed in the shadow. We've been followed? Well, shoot.

"I prefer not to steal people's will," Ghost answered, voice quiet in case anyone was close enough to hear them. "And even when I do, there're consequences. But if you want to get a car without trouble, I can do somethin'."

The somethin' she would do was simple. It was a little something called 'being a pickpocket'. Not only was she hard to see at night, but she was also quick and silent on her feet. She'd been practicing being a pickpocket since she was young, right before she'd discovered her powers. She hadn't exactly grown up in the nicest living conditions..

((Tsh, she becoming Remy? I know he's from Ultimate X-Men in this RP but in his normal story he begins as this kid in the street who relies on other people's wallets and runs around with a group of boys who do the same. One day, the boss of crime family which he got entwined with called the Thieve's Guild which is basically a Mafia of everything stealing worthy took interest in the tyke and adopted him as his own son, teaching him professional theft. No one else wanted a kid with red and black eyes. The only reason his papa wanted him was for his power and skill.
They were the best of the best and they had a rivalry with the Assassin's Guild. Gambit could steal anything due to his agility, night vision and if all comes to naught, charming abilities. Thus earning the name The Prince of Thieves. Long of the short of it is, the minute he drops that background story ['cause he's from Ultimate, not from every other comic], someone else takes it. This is too funny. ^^

I'll post later.))

((She's not exactly becoming Remy. I have her history up in my head, I just don't want to write it down. :P I probably will sooner or later though..))

((I was joking. That's not his history either--well not in this RP. He's just common and normal and no Romeo and Juliet backstory.))

So the pickpocket met the Prince of Thieves in another life. Coincidences like these should be monumental if crime meant less then little in Batman town.

"Does trouble be considered makin' y'lie on de road. Gambit's not bellow making use of what we have," his tone was ironic and lathered in childishness. If all went wrong she could always make the person stop with her mind. What was the harm in that?

She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think you know how hard it is to understand you with that accent. I'm not even joking." Then she turned her attention away from Gambit and, slowly, opened her mind.

Ghost was searching for the follower he'd spoken of. She went out ten feet without coming across another mind out on the street. Fifteen....Twenty..After twenty-five feet she closed her mind off again, shutting down her powers. She hadn't found anyone, but didn't trust that. Just because someone hadn't been found nearby, didn't mean no one was there.

Since she'd only used her power as a search, she barely got a headache. A Level 1: Where they were barely there and lasted for about five minutes.

"If you'd prefer French, be my guest," he said, eyes crinkling but his expression grew sombre, "But y'gotta look up," he pointed over to a high sky scraper in the distance, a costumed man in tights glaring at them from his perch on a gargoyle.

His cape slapped in the wind.

She looked up and looked flat out annoyed. "Am I allowed to say we're screwed? Or can I be a bit more creative than that?" she told her temporary partner, keeping her eyes on the man.

If you were able to see her, you would've been able to see her stance change slightly. She was ready to fight or ready to run. It all depended on their luck.

"He's just gardin' his territory," Gambit said low near her ear, "Broodin' up der, never strikin'. Seems he knows somebody's reputation."

Probably your's, Ghost thought, since she'd never been to this town before. She stayed silent, keeping her eyes on the man. "What do you suggest we do then, bud?"

"Nottin' for now, I don't like de look of dat guy's jaw. However, if he's super, maybe he got a hand in protecting yo' school."

"You said he was guarding his territory. I doubt that he'd leave this town to help a school he hasn't been to," she countered.

"You know, your pessimism astounds me."

((Sorry for late reply.))

"Yeah, most people have the same reaction. I just try not to get my hopes too high and make sure to see both sides."

"Ouais, God forbid we have a hope," he said sarcastically, "If y'not gonna do any'ting, den how 'bout we call a cab," the guy was freaking him out.