He stepped across the threshold of The Bath House a picture of complete confidence. Lucas was used to parties, used to clubbing, and used to the A List. He took a quick moment of vanity to check out his reflection.

He was wearing his best cowboy boots tucked into a tight fitting pair of blue denim jeans. A brown leather belt was held together at his waist by a metal buckle. The buckle was large and heavy and instead of bearing something manly or Texan it instead took the shape of the diamond "S" that was Superman symbol. Lucas had forgone a shirt in favor of rugged looking leather vest to better show off the his new muscled form and as a final touch, he covered his stylishly unkept blond hair with his favorite cowboy hat.

He took in the room with a glance and stepped up to the bar, ordering a Corona with lime before turning back to the room. There was a whole crowd of folks he was here to see tonoght and he pondered where to begin mingling.

[6 successes of Style+App]

Gabe certainly seems friendly with this Robert, Kara muses knowing the whispering. And flying him to Miami just so that he could be at a night club? And all the whispering and back-patting?

This smelled of a budding gay romance to Kara. Fuck me... all the good ones really are taken or gay, she grumped to herself, still smiling graciously. She extended her hand to the man, noting his good build and handsome features. "Hello, Robert," she said, taking his hand. "Welcome to the Bath House. I hope you have a lovely evening. If you need anything, please let me know."

That name... "Are you the fellow from the OpNet who is being stalked?"

Bellator eventually gets the bartender's attention and orders another drink. When his drink arrives, he takes it, pays the bartender, leaving a generous tip and starts walking around the main room.

While walking near the entrance he notices the young lady with the magenta hair. "Excuse me, ma'am..." He hurriedly removes his cap and continues, "but you look very interesting. My name is Bellator. I'm sure you must get this a lot, but may I buy you a drink?"

They were across the room. Kara, Caramel, whatever, was making nice with some oafish looking dude and Gabe was slowly easing back, not quite running away but certainly getting out of the line of fire. He'd changed drasticaly since they'd last seen each other. Eruption does that. He smiled as he looked down at his own muscular, nearly bare chest.

I wonder if he'll recognize me? He thought idly has he weaved he way through the thickening crowd with a grace that was suprising for a man just over 6 feet tall. He laid his empty glass on a nearby table as he passed and walked straight up to his old prep school friend.

"God damn it's good to see you again Gabe!"

Startled, Gabriel spun so fast he almost caused himself whiplash. He knew that voice. It was deeper and filled with more confidence than he recalled but he knew it from somewhere.

Lucas approached him and within a few moments the face and the voice 'clicked' into place within Gabriel's mind. "Lucas?" He asked, and without warning planted a hug on the guy that suddenly made the whole surrounding area look like Gabriel's favorite football team had won the super bowl. "Man! How the hell are you?"

It was obvious the Gabriel knew TeleForce from somewhere and that there was quite possibly some interesting stories to share along the way. "Jesus dude, look at you. When you popped you really popped eh? You got lucky if you ask me, I didn't get anything, but hey, who know right? So, how ya been?"

The question 'what the hell am I doing?' crosses my mind yet another time as I approach the club, or what I think is the club, it isn't that easy to tell from the air, but I've spent enough of my savings on the plane ticket to even think about renting a car, so flying it is. Truth is, I'm bored of pretending I'm a baseline all the time, taking orders for shitty hamburgers for an even worse pay. It's time I broke my little self-imposed exile, at least for a while. After all, that's why I'd signed up on those message boards, wasn't it? To meet novas and, more than that, to meet them as equals.

I land inconspicuously in an empty street nearby, no need to make a scene, and straighten my clothes, which were ruffled somewhat by the flight. Stylishly abused black jeans, a black blazer with "Velvet Fire" patched on the back in big block rose velvet letters, a black tee and a loosely-tied fuchsia and black striped tie. So I'm a sucker for pink, even the earrings are small intricacies of magenta-dyed wire, but I know I can pull it off, especially with the juice on, so I walk up to the entrance of the club and flash a charming grin at the bouncer (I love winding those guys up, probably too much for my own good) as I go in.

I can't decide if the decor is stylish or tacky. It's the whole pseudo-erotic roman bath theme, which I expected, especially considering who the owner is, but it seems they actually pulled it off quite well, which I frankly didn't expect. The frescos were a nice touch, they must've been specially commissioned. I stand there for maybe a bit too long, looking around and wondering what to do. I can't legally drink in this country even if I wanted to, and knowing the prices of things in places like this even a glass of water is going to hurt my savings. Nevertheless, I walk up to the bar, but mostly to sit and survey the people here, although I know that with the mojo on I'm not exactly going to stay unnoticed for very long.

[7 successes on App+Style // 2 Mega-App]

"Thank you for welcoming me Kara" Robert shook Kara's hands, his eyes never leaving hers. "Yes, I'm that Robert. But don't worry, I'm sure that guy can't track me all the way to Miami!"

Bob sipped on his drink again "I really appreciate the invite, I just aced all my finals this semester after I erupted and I really need to relax now. I have been having horrible trouble on my city..."

Robert looked down on his drink, seemingly entranced by the drink. "..Also, what the hell do you put on this things? They kick like a mule!" Robert chuckles at his own joke

*[2 Successes Cha + Ettq roll]

"Oh, I'm not worried," Kara assured him, crossing her slim arms, which enhanced her breasts. Robert never looked down, keeping his eyes on her eyes or on his drink. Yep. Gay. "He's only attacked you around small crowds; if he's smart enough to stay away from those, he'll definitely stay away from here. Just to be safe, you'll leave a little before the crowd thins out, won't you?" She winked and chuckled to make it a joke. Which it was. Mostly.

Come on, girl. If anyone needs a break, it's this poor kid. "Congrats on your classes, sugar," she said, pulling a slip of paper and a miniature pen out of her pocket. She quickly scribbled a note on the paper and handed it to Robert. "Just give that to the bartender in the VIP room," she pointed the way to the stairs and the velvet rope, "and tell him you get whatever you want. And tell Hugo, that yummy-looking chocolate mountain, that I said to go on up, ok? I guanantee we have stuff with more kick upstairs, sweetie."

She gave him another wink and turned back to see Gabe and Lucas talking. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the cowboy theme Lucas had, along with his mannerisms. I'm surrounded by teh Gay. Like I don't get enough of it at work. "Gabe, it looks like you know someone I don't," Kara smiled, joining the two men. "Hello, I'm Kara. Welcome to the Bath House."

Lucas returned Gabe's affectionate hug lifting the man off the floor like he was weightless. "I've been great man! How 'bout you?" he replied as he lowered Gabe back to the floor.

Lucas gave Kara a long slow appreciative look as his attention was drawn from his old childhood friend. "You can only be the ravishing Caramel Bath," he said with appreciation in his voice. His tone was quiet and sensual and carried a slight hint of a Texas drawl.

Taking her delicate digits in his two giant hands, he raises it to his lips and gently pecks the back of her hand. "It is truly a pleasure to meet you little lady. The name's Lucas Holt."

[4 successes on Charisma+Etiquette]

"You can only be the ravishing Caramel Bath," he said with appreciation in his voice, and Gabe could do nothing but roll his eyes, his face currently wearing a grin.

After his introduction Gabe stepped forward. "Ms B'Nath, you'll have to excuse him, apparently he erupted into Lando Calrissian. Believe me when I tell you this man had not an ounce of charm in his body." Both Gabe and Lucas shared a laugh, displaying that even after all the years they hadn't seen each other the old school rivalries were still in play.

"Kara was just showing me around, hey we have to hook up later and catch up on old times. First round is on me." He said with his trademark smile.

The cock block was now in full effect.

Kara grinned and slipped her arm back around Gabe's. Might as well enjoy hot, young male flesh while I can, she mused, running her fingers lightly over his skin. His arm was lightly haired, and Kara choked back a purr of pleasure. She loved the soft touch of another woman, but sometimes the rougher touch of a man was what she needed. It had been a couple of weeks since she had broken up with J-Loc, the last few shoots had been heavy on the pussy, and she needed something more masculine. Yeah, I'm getting something tonight, from somebody, before I hurt myself.

"First round, sugar?" Kara laughed and winked. "You stole the words from my lips. I guess I'll have to give you drinks on the house later.

"Where are you from, Lucas?" Kara turned her smile on the cowboy. "You have a southern accent of some sort. And where do you know Gabe from? You two gentleman sound like you go way back." And if way back is their first awkward sexual explorations, I'm gonna cry. But I have to find out, one way or another.

“Interesting? My, you sure know how to flatter a girl.” Weaver said with a small laugh as she looked Bellator over for a moment.

“Come then, let’s go get my that drink then, you sweet talker, you.” She finally added, slipping a arm into his and giving him a small yank as they walk over to the bar. She wove her way through the growing crowd easily, catching all manner of looks and admiration.

“Rum and coke, please.” Weaver told the bartender before turning her back to the bar, leaning against it with her elbows resting on it, causing her coat to open a bit more.

“Thanks for the drink. I’m Weaver.”

Balm's mouth tugged into a brief, wry smile as she watched the interactions between the other novas before she gathered her courage and stepped into the position to be noticed.

"Ah, excuse me, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," the brunette began, sounding a trifle nervous even to herself. She tugged down on the brief denim skirt she wore, conscious of the fact her legs were covered only with fishnets and black leather boots. "I'm Balm. From the boards."

The nice thing about nobody knowing who you are is that nobody knows who you are. The bouncer took my cash and stamped my hand, and that was that. I was inside.

After allowing my eyes to acclimate to the dim light inside the club, I surreptitiously took a long look around. The standard-issue mob of ordinary humans who were in a sweaty frenzy to impress each other was in place and desperately trying to find that special miss or mister right-- or at least miss or mister right now. A number of obvious novas were in attendance as well, mixed into the crowd the way marshmallows litter a bowl of Lucky Charms.

"My spoon is too big," The Gnostic murmured. I heard him, but I doubted if anyone else could. The combination of loud music and shouting probably exceeded OSHA hearing safety requirements by a factor of Mötley Crüe. In fifty years Apple Computer is probably going to start making hip cool hearing aids for these deafened morons, just to prove that they're still relevant despite clinging to a mere 1% market share in the shadow of ViaSoft.

But I digress.

"And I have a banana," I replied. Yeah, it'd be fascinating to see what happens when this many nova-sized egos reach critical mass and blow the lid off this place, and the Grim Reaper starts dipping his ebon cereal spoon into the bowl and plucking out tasty marshmallow morsels. I almost feel bad for the frosted oat baselines who will be devoured along with the novas, but not quite. They paid to be here, after all. Nobody drafted them.

Nobody drafted me, either, but I have a sort of moral duty to be here, as guardian of the social order of my little neck of reality. It's going to take me some time to unravel the mystery that's been implanted into my head, and the last thing I need is a bunch of neophyte novas inadvertently pushing the hands on the Doomsday Clock closer to twelve.

Backjack caught my eye, nodding sharply and inclining his head in the direction of the bar. He selected the end that was less populated with novas and angled for it. I found a backless stool that was unoccupied and took a seat. The drones to either side of me glanced my way and departed with their drinks.

Fuck you too.

Backjack took the stool to my right, the one adjacent to the wall. He turned around and put his back to the wall, and faced into the crowd. The Gnostic was leaned over the bar, peering into the well.

"It's Miami," I said, "Get a rum drink."

"Barkeep!" The Gnostic shouted over the ruction, "A Cuba libre please, extra lime!"

The bartender made an elaborate display of his back, not turning around. Backjack snatched a lime from the bar tray and flicked it at the bartender, and it skipped lightly off his shoulder. As if disturbed by an insect, the bartender slowly turned around. He looked around, apparently unable to discern the source of the citrus missile. While he was facing my direction, I seized his attention with a half-wave and a nod.

"A Cuba libre and two Budweiser longnecks, por favor," I said. Without acknowledging me, he turned to the well. I was beginning to wonder if he'd blown me off when he returned with the drinks.

"Sixteen seventy-five," he said mirthlessly.

I slapped a twenty on the bar and grabbed my beer. Backjack didn't reach for his.

"Drink up," I suggested, "damn thing set me back five bucks."

"Maybe in a bit," Backjack replied, shaking his head.

I'd become accustomed to his habits. This wasn't the first time I'd sprung for a beer and he'd declined, but in the end he usually had a good reason for it. Since we'd met in the Rashoud Center in Orlando, he'd been something of an enigma to me, but also one of my best friends. For a best friend, I can put up with that. If shit came to shit the way I thought it would, he'd be instrumental in getting the three of us the hell out of here.

I took another pull on my longneck and scanned the crowd. So far, so asinine.

The upstairs bar was opulent, for John's tastes at least. The bartender nodded to him as he he put the remaining cash on the counter. "Can I put this down as a deposit for later drinks?"

He looked around and saw a heavy-set muscled man sitting at one of the tables. He looked like he was deep in thought. John ordered another drink and headed over to the table where the man sat.

"Hey dude..What's up?" John suddenly realized that he might have been served better had he waited to approach the man. The dude might not have wanted to be disturbed.

[no successes on Cha + Etiquette]

Slate took his drink from the barkeep after several minutes of failing to get his attention. He moved to a dark corner of the room and continued to watch the events of the evening unfold.

Kara was still in deep conversation with other Novas, so he didn't interupt. He knew a handful of the new Novas who had walked in. He thought back to his conversation with Balm, deciding against exposing himself further. He briefly considered leaving.

He glanced over and saw Balm talking to Weaver. Fuck her. He thought to himself, I'll have a good night despite her 'shitting' on mine. He sat back into the shadows and knocked back another before getting up and making his way to the stairs.

I'm looking at the crowd, especially the nova portion of the crowd. And, admittedly, particularly at the Gabriel Law portion of the nova crowd. He is so hot. I can't take my eyes off him. Now I know how it feels to people around me when I switch the mojo on. He's amazing, he totally bypasses the conscious portion of my brain and directly plays the two-legged mammal in the background. I don't know whether I'm disturbed or delighted. And the woman, who I'm guessing is our host, doesn't fall behind. And I'm tempted, oh so tempted, to use the magic little bump in my brain and have one of them... or both, tonight. I'm pretty sure I can, but I won't. My willpower, or at least my guilt, goes that far at least. No using that power on people, I promised myself.

So now I need a distraction, unless I want to spend all night slowly forming a pile of drool under my mouth from watching those two for too long. The girl standing up and introducing herself was a godsend, in that respect. Now, I haven't really found her all that interesting, Balm seems to be rather bland typical T2M nice girl, probably all a show put on for PR. But hey, someone to talk to was someone to talk to, and she's a nova, so that must count for something. So I kind of walk up to her, and closer to the crowd, and when I'm close enough behind her I speak.

"Why hello there. I'm Percivald, also from the boards. What brings you here tonight?"

And I note how my British accent sounds weird here, even to me. Maybe I need to work on sounding more local.

Percivald... That's right, the Buddhist cutie, Balm thought as her lips stretched into a genuinely warm smile. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy on the boards, and even though he was super-hot, she figured that he wasn't expecting to get it on with her.

Unlike Slate, who struck her as a paranoid, invasive sonuvabitch.

"Percivald. Nice to meet you. I came here to socialise, meet a few other novas, that kind of thing. You?"

It's not an act is what that part of my mind that deals with people says, and I guess I can trust it. She may actually be genuinely nice. Maybe this conversation is going to be more worthwhile than I thought at first.

"Kind of the same thing, I guess," I say, "my daily life is pretty boring, unlike, I'm sure, yours. But all this is a bit awkward, I don't drink, I don't dance, or at least not much, and I'm not here to try and have sex with anyone," I prop that up with a smile, and hope the mojo covers up the fact that my eyes strayed over to our divine hostess and Adonis-like guest. "But, of course, I don't think novas gather to have tea and crumpets, especially not in these parts of the world."

Of course, being obviously British always has the advantage of being able to throw the tea-and-crumpets joke around.

I'd just watched the third obvious nova admitted to the VIP balcony when The Gnostic leaned over and brushed my arm.

"We'll learn more up there," he told me.

Backjack leaned toward me from my other side, playing devil to The Gnostic's angel.

"We'll be a lot more exposed up there," Backjack said. I looked at the base of the red-carpeted stairway and noticed that the usual bouncer was away, probably in the little bouncer's room.

I mulled it over as I drained the last of my longneck. I started to raise my hand to signal the barkeep for another, but Backjack stopped me.

"Take mine," he said, "I'm not thirsty."

I picked up the bottle from where it still sat on the bar, untouched in a puddle of condensation.

"Let's go see what we can see," I said, rising from my seat. Backjack and The Gnostic followed me through the crowd, and we weaved and ducked our way through the undulating throng to the base of the red-carpeted stairway to the VIP area. The bouncer looked down at me with his arms folded across his chest. I'd never seen cotton fibers more tortured than the ones in his T-shirt as they strained at the bleeding edge of tensile strength to restrain his physique. He had a buzzcut, but it was not the sort that you shaved once a week and toweled dry. No, this buzzcut showed all the signs of being as elaborately groomed every morning as the hedges in The Vatican.

"Can I help you?" he asked. It was obvious to me that he had no interest whatsoever in doing anything of the sort. He didn't even say sir.

"We're going upstairs," Backjack said quietly. He said it as if it were a law of nature, and not a request.

"You're not going anywhere," Muscles McBuzzcut replied.

"You're not qualified to make that determination," The Gnostic retorted candidly. A moment later, he, I, and Backjack were standing behind the bouncer, on the bottom-most step of the staircase. The Gnostic and Backjack began to walk up the stairs. I stayed behind a moment.

"Thank you very much," I said to the bouncer's back. He spun with surprising speed, and appeared quite startled to see me standing there instead of where we had been.

For a very long second he sized me up, and I honestly didn't know if he was going to reach for his poorly-concealed radio, punch me in the face, or smile. To my disappointment, he merely nodded once-- not to me, but as if punctuating a thought-- and turned back to his duty station.



((Author's note: Since I'm now entering interaction range with a number of PCs, I would like to remind everyone again that Backjack and The Gnostic are imaginary friends that only King Felix can see.))

"I'm a Texan born and raised Miss Bath," He he said with some pride and he moved to her side, opposite from Gabe and offered the lady his arm like a proper southern gentleman. "Gabe and I are old prep school buddies. It's been forever sice we've thrown a few back though."

A look of mock suprise came over his face as he looked at Gabe and with a playful grin he said "Oh your still here? Don't you have to go play with your instrument?"

"Don't worry Gabe, I know how to keep a lady entertained."

Gabriel threw his head back and laughed. The two boys turned men hadn't changed one bit. He was reminded of every time they had played his game, and the name of every lady they played it with.

"You still got it, Mr. Witty Witterson." His cell phone/OpNet Device/PDA/Popcorn Maker/Digital Camera filled the air with vicinity with the chorus of "Rock N' Roll Fantasy" made famous by Bad Company many years before his time. "Speaking of, that's the band, if you will excuse me. Ms. B'Nath, thank you again, and I hope you enjoy listening as much as I'll enjoy performing for you." He winked, leaving the comment to be interpreted however those around them chose to take it. He flipped up his celly and broke away from the duo, lightly slugging Lucas in the arm as he left.

"Yeah, I'm inside, meet me around back..." his voice trailed off into the crowd.

Bellator hands the bartender a twenty to cover Weaver's drink, and a new bottle of Sam Adams for himself. "'The' Weaver? the designer? Wow. I've seen a couple of your designs. They're damn good. Do you offer Image Consultant services? I think I need that. Anyway, what do you think of the place?" He stops, and takes a breath, since he just spouted those questions without taking a breath.

He then hands Weaver her drink, and smiles, trying his best not to let his eyes travel far from her face, but failing miserably. "I love your outfit." He then blinks, a bit taken aback by what he just blurted out, then smiles shyly.

Are they gay or not? Kara wondered, a little confused. But a new delightful thought invaded her mind - What if they're bisexual? The thought of both of them fucking her at once brought a rush of heat to her face.

Then Gabe extracted himself and left her with Lucas. "Well, since he has to go put together his band, let's you and me go see who we can meet, shall we?" Kara tucked her arm into Lucas' as she spoke, smiling like a proper hostess.

With his agreeing nod, Kara turned with the intention of finding others. But she stopped at the sight of a handsome man who had to be a nova dressed in eye-catching pink, and a vaguely familiar woman. With a smile, she guided Lucas to their side and said, "Hi, I'm Kara, and this is Lucas. Welcome to the Bath House."

As I entered the VIP area at the top of the stairs, I could see that there was a balcony overlooking the dancing stage, and a bar set farther back, out of sight from the floor. Backjack and The Gnostic had already taken a table in the far corner, and as usual Backjack had a commanding view of the doorway. I joined them, noticing the satisfactory way my beer bottle clinked on the fresh marble tabletop.

"Not too shabby," I observed.

"Quieter, too," The Gnostic added, "I was about to lose my sanity down there in that disco."

Backjack nodded.

Several minutes later Josh realizes that he might have just gotten a brush off… or maybe not. In any case he doesn’t have a drink in his hand so he wanders back to the bar to fix this.

Glancing at Thierry as he walks over, he thinks, *Is that four arms? Is that a power or an aberration?*

And then Josh sees Gabriel Law and thinks with some amusement, *Good grief, No wonder I got a brush off.*

:Blink: Josh says out loud,

“Good god.”

Then more loudly,

“Hello, everyone. I’m Josh. Josh Brickman.”

[I assume those 4 succ for style still hold]

A lean, hungry crowd of novaphiles and paparazzi clustered around the entrance to the Bath House, watching and waiting for the next millionaire playboy or DeVries superstar to pose for their adoring public. They were a ravenous pack of half-starved press hounds, and their beady, star-struck eyes shifted wolfishly between door and sidewalk as they scented the air for prey. Nothing could have dispersed the fanatical observers.

Then, as if on cue, they all parted abruptly to reveal a startlingly petite figure wreathed in darkness*. Shadows clung to her like jealous lovers, leaving wisps of smoky black nothingness to trail behind her as she walked solemnly through the now-silent press corps and into the club. To all appearances, she was completely nude, though there was something unsettlingly indistinct and doll-like about her unclothed body. Her pale grey eyes narrowed disdainfully at the libertine decor, and a wave of ebony hair(?) swept over her shoulder as she tossed her head.

Only a few hours before, she'd been heatedly debating the merits of attending Caramel's little soiree with Constantin in his study, but his persuasiveness and experience had won out, and here she stood. Sequins, glitter, and spangles everywhere cried out in horror at the deep aura of night that followed in her wake as she made her way through the club with no apparent destination in mind.

Fine, she told herself. He told me to come, and I came, but he never said anything about having to stay.

[*Nyx suffers from the "Bad Vibe" flaw, and all of her social rolls for character interactions will be made with the appropriate +1 difficulty.]

Balm laughed politely at the tea and crumpets joke. "I actually like tea and crumpets in the morning," she admitted cheerfully. "Nothing like melted butter and baked goods when you're still waking up."

So Percivald seemed like a really nice guy for sure. Buddhists were supposed to be to begin with, but some of the most self-righteous and sanctimonious asses Janet had known were Buddhists. Religion truly was no barrier to idiocy.

She offered Kara and Lucas a smile as they came up. "Hello! Caramel Bath and TeleForce, right? I'm Balm. Nice to meet you."

She has tea and crumpets for breakfast? I can't help but smile. She really is a pleasant Australian farm girl, I don't think the Project found any need for artificial sweetening here, which considering the unbeliavable levels of goody-two-shoes-ness they're promoting, is quite incredible. She's cute, in a reassuringly familiar way, and on that note I'm about to continue the conversation when movement and a voice makes me turn around.

And I'm reminded what is cute in a completely supernatural way. Where did they find all the incredible guys for this party? Although I'm glad, at least all my attention isn't going to Caramel's breasts, which would be mightily embarassing, social-mojo or not.

"Why, hello!" I reply to Caramel's greeting with a surprising lack of awkwardness, thanking my node all the way, "very pleased to meet you two. I'm Percivald, hardly as famous as all these people around me, but you may remember me from the boards." And the little bump in my brain thinks I should make small talk, so I continue, "I do like what you've done with the place, by the way. Stylish way to do a club."