339/Four mutants walk into an opera house...

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Four mutants walk into an opera house...
Date of Scene: 07 March 2020
Location: Downtown Manhattan
Synopsis: Sam Guthrie, Roberto da Costa, Douglas Ramsey and Illyana Raputina venture deep into Enemy Territory for the sake of Sam's love life. No joke.
Cast of Characters: Alexis Carr, Roberto da Costa, Samuel Guthrie, Illyana Rasputina, Douglas Ramsey

Alexis Carr has posed:
    The building that the Gala was to be held in was an elegant, revitalized operahouse at the edge of Manhattan, nestled between buildings along Millionaire's Row.

    And if there was any doubt who Alexis really was, let itbe banished. The banners up front announce the 'one night engagement' at the gala of Allegra Caradenza, the Pride of Pro-HUMANA's artistry programs, along with a dramatic pose of Allegra, looking down, wearing dramatic makeup with red, red lips and pearls set in her hair.

    To the side, stage hands and bussers are hanging out on break, smoking and trading stories.

    "Oh man, the things I'd do to that guy's daughter!" one crows out, "I'd show her the High Life an' then I'd show her the /high-light/ if you know what I mean!" he laughs.

    Inside, the dressingroom was marked 'CARADENZA, A', and there was an argument going on, in rapid fire Italian.

    <Eating? Again? Precious you'll put on weight and no one will be able to lift you for your pas a deux! If you are still hungry channel the hunger into your music!>

    <Papa I cannot help it, I need to eat! We worked through lunch and this is the first break we hve had!>

Roberto da Costa has posed:
This was dumb. Roberto knew it was dumb but for all that he had been trying to be the better more strategic Roberto da Costa, put him with Sam, or put someone Sam cared about in danger, and he went right back into old-time Roberto. The hothead, the foolish risk taker, which is why he's standing behind the stage wearing a tux, pretending to be a waiter. "This girl better be worth it," Roberto complains lowly to Sam, complaints like these were how he vents. "And we better not get caught, Illy, Doug and I had it all figured out before tonight."

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie is wearing a new tux that fits him well. He looks over to Roberto, and says "She is a good person in danger protecting them is sorta what we do aint it?" He offers his friend a smile Sam did at least do one thing after his friends tried to make sure he did not come. Sam has used some temp hair dye and has brown hair tonight. It may not be alot but it is something.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    The argument in the dressing room rises in pitch, before the door slams, and with her hair half up, wearing a plain dress, her heels tapping on the tile floor as she stalks up to the strage.

    The stage itself is empty, chairs have been set for a small arrangement of instruments. There are two stands set up -- a box and stand for the conductor that evening, and one for Allegra -- even though the heels make her much taller, she's still nearly a whole head shorter than Sam!

    There is a huff as she looks out to the empty concert hall -- at least, it should be empty. Most everyone from the rehearsal had gone to celebrate all the money they were bound to bring in.

    And, not knowing Sam and Roberto had made it there, Alexis brings her violin up, drawing the bow to it, and begins to play a melancholy tune to the empty hall, listening to it echo off the unfilled seats and empty tables, which tomorrow would be full of the rich and powerful.

    (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=op24G2R2zHM )

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Waiting in the wings Roberto, stops mid stride when he hears Alexis play. He gives Sam a little punch in the shoulder. "Your girl's got skills," he says proud of his bestie. "I'd ask if she has a sister, but, then I remember who her dad is and you know what? Hard pass." He chuckles. Then leaning against the wall, one foot propped against it. "So, Romeo, how do we do this thing?" A beat. "Actually what are we here to do? And how do you keep getting me to come on these things without knowing the plan?"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
This sort of venue calls for a woman with the surname Frost or Stark, not Rasputina. This sort of crowd calls for someone twenty-six and renowned on social media, stages or artificial fields against a green screen. She fits absolutely none of the worthy criteria to be here, but when has that ever stopped one of Xavier's children before?

Maybe it is better if no one recognizes her at all. For that, she has to be part of the background. A professional coat gives away the look, the blonde hair vanished in favour of chestnut brown just this side of black worn pulled back and slick. Black on black, the ideal colours for any musician in any orchestra the world round, don't so much as give the gig away. Oversized sunglasses need the sun to go with, but their mirror-finished facade contemptuously reviews the state of affairs around her. The sort of Very Busy Woman who has things to do, which is exactly the impression she means to give off, fading down one of the hallways from backstage presumably in search of some stray sheet music.

Totally not hunting. Nothing here to indicate she is stalking or scoping the joint. Why would she be doing that instead of, you know, working?

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie will look over to Berto. "We get the plans ans we can get in tomorrow if they think we fit in. We make sure no one is going to try anything to hurt her. Sounds like her and her dad or someone have been arguing. And yea, she is talented kicks ass on the guitar too."

Alexis Carr has posed:
    One of the few guards on duty tonight pause as they come accross the wandering woman back stage, his head giving a tilt a moment.

    "Hi there, y'lost?" he inquires, crossing his arms, "Pretty sure all the muscans left for the night, right?" he ventures to Illya.

    Alexis, on stage, is lost in the music asshe plays through the folk song, and immediately progresses to a more techniclaly difficult piece, her fingers moving, caressing the strings -- but Berto and Sam are in danger.

    "Signores -- may I ask what you are doing oogling my daughter and not, say, preparing the bar for tomorrow?" comes a voice from behind the boys -- and Sam and Berto are faced with a rather tired looking Filipe Caradenza, tanned and thinning, gray hair, a Roman nose. He rubs the bridge of his nose, then replaces his rimless glasses as he looks over the young men in inquiry.

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto misses Illyana's entrance but if he'd seen it, total facepalm, he was so going to be busted being dumb here.

As for Filipe, Roberto, grudgingly, puts on one of his best smiles, "Sorry sir, just your daughter's music? Amazing, totally forgot what we're doing," he says tapping Sam on the shoulder. "Let's go," he tells his friend, before looking back to Filipe again, "Big fan of your speeches and stuff sir, it's very," stomach turning, "Inspiring, right?" he looks to Sam.

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Illyana's entrance is deliberately not loud or noisy, as it is. She has the air of someone who is very much preoccupied with her own importance. As if the brunette walking around with cheekbones to kill and an utterly arch accent has any time for the lowliest of lowly figures interconnecting with her path.

"Excuse me." That's the first warning bell for anyone with a jot of sense. The clamouring ought to resonate somewhere in the brainpan towards the back for the gentleman crossing her path. English clipped and precise grazes that gorgeously unamused voice. "Of course they have. And they forget, always, the most important thing." Me, the heavily implied silence would suggest. "It falls to /me/ to recover the second chair sheet music instead of relaxing on a Friday night." She really has Far Too Many Important Things To Do. The tone seethes with it. "I'm going to kill them."

Her vivid eyes, a shade of warm brown to go with that dark hair, slip over the rims of her sunglasses. "Unless /you/ can tell me where that idiot boyfriend of mine left it. He's simply not worth it."

The beautiful mouth, lush and plum-stained, turns downward. Dazzling if she would just bloody smile. "And then I can be out of your hair."

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie looks over to the man, and says "Yes, she is very talented quite moving, our apologizes." He will resist any urge to tell the man off, and actually with effort his accent is a lot less. Please sir, we did not mean to offend, we really want to be able to do something here to be a part of your cause.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    Inspiration to vomit is still inspiration.

    "Oh? You are?" the gentleman inquires, looking pleasantly surprised at the enthuiasm from Roberto. "Then tell me, voice of your generation, how /do/ we contend witht he rising amount of mutant births? In-vitro testing or vetting of parents for the posibility of producing a mutant?" he inquires, looking between Roberto and Sam.

    The music on the stage has stopped -- and Alexis appears to be paying attention to what's going on in the wings.

    Illyana's guard will chew on those words a moment, looking Illyana up and down before he shakes his head, giving a slight smile.

    "Which one is the idiot boyfriend?" he inquires, motioning for her to follow him. "I think the orchestra lounge was back this way."

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto doesn't flinch when tested, "Sir, I'm not that smart, that's a big problem and I just know I'm scared by what's happening in our world, all these people with powers..." A pause. "Anyhow, not to be a fan boy but I just follow what you tell us, sir." Yes, vomiting will be needed.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
...This is when Doug shows up. He's wearing a t-shirt with a flat line on it (...he's a flatscan, it's a joke) and he's got on a leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses, with an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His body language, his walk, his tone of voice, all completely different, and his hair's been shellacked into a spiky nightmare. If you didn't know him well, it'd actually be hard to tell it's him through that sneer. "Hey." He says, "Is this where the party is tomorrow?"

He walks around it, looking around, before he says, out loud. "Holy shit dude. This place is a *security nightmare*, especially if the rumors I heard were true -- and they usually are." He paces the room, and then says, "...There's a serious risk of organized Mutie reprisals looking for payback for Magneto's death. I don't want to attend a gala just to get crucified by a vengeful Princess Polaris, what the hell are you doin'?"

Then he looks up and pushes his sunglasses down. "I'm Robin Masters." The hotshot wunderkid and tech expert who's gaining a lot of popularity online in the antimutant circles. He makes the dankest of memes. "I just flew into town and I figured I'd check the place out and find out what I'm payin' for. Listen man, I just got this mail-order bride from Russia--" He licks his finger and puts it on his butt and makes a 'tsss' sound "But the bitch is gonna leave me if I feed her anything less than Caspian Monarque. Yeah, yeah, I know, it's *Iranian*, but she knows what she wants."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Is there any reason for trepidation? Hardly. The sharp, unforgiving edges of Illyana's voice soar darkly indeed. "Alexander," she flings the name down with the force of a gauntlet, expecting a rebound. "I should have bothered with John. _He_ at least had a stint with the American Symphony." Her brilliantly sharp gaze vanishes behind the sunglasses again, and she huffs an irritable breath. The swirl of movement brings her briefly, briskly in step with the guard, letting him lead the way. "Thank you. If his head weren't glued on straight, it would surely come right off and end up with rosin in a corner."

Vengeful princess Polaris, wouldn't that bring a smirk to her lips if she heard it. Of course she does not. She is utterly too wrapped up in herself. Sunglasses on. As for the mail-order bride, she's around the corner. With the papers to prove, presumably, she is exaclty who she says she is.

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie starts to say something but at the new arrival, he will clam up. He lowers his head to hide any reaction. He expect the high much a much will want to deal with the loud one and not want to deal with the hired help. He does chance a look back up to the stage for a moment though.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    There was a lot going on, and it was beginning to be a security nightmare.

    One of the building managers comes out to the alley and yells at the guys who left the doors wide open for anyone to walk in, and they start a sweep of the area.

    "Nonsense. You're young, full of ideas, and look loyal enough to the cuase!" the man gives a smile, and reaches and just physically clasps the boys on the shoulders.

    "But you must be cautious -- there are shapeshifters all around, anyone can look like anyon--" he pauses, and turns as the vulgar language youtuber makes an appearance and... he raises his eyebrows. He looks the spikey haired lad up and down a moment.

    "Am I supposed to be impressed by the language, your misplaced confidence, or your inability to actually date without paying for a woman?" he inquires to 'Robin'.

    "Ain't that always the way." the friendly security guard states as he brings Illyana back to the musician's lounge. It's a tight squeeze for all the musicians if they were here -- but it appears they are all gone, except for one gentleman whose tuxedo is hanging in the back, and he appears to be napping against a tuba case.

    "Now, which instrument did he play, Princess?" the guard gives a flirtatious wink to Illy.

    Allegra Caradenza comes closer to the men on stage, and asks: ""Padre, chi sono questi uomini?" before looking around and -- Roberto. Which means the other one must be Sam.

    Her next statement is tinged with anger. "i musicisti sono tornati a casa ore fa. Solo la sicurezza dovrebbe essere attiva."

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto grins, "I'll try to be sir!" he says brightly, then as the man goes off to speak with...crap is that Doug? Wait, is that Illy! So, so busted. "C'mon, let's go set up the bar," he says, by which he means steal booze, because he needs something to wash down the vomit in the back of his mouth.

He gives a quick glance over at their friends as well, "Looks like we're not alone," as he heads to the bar.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    He's not a YouTuber, he's a Twitterer and Redditor.
    "Yeah, because the Eurotrash vibe's really going to win over today's youth. Order some puffy shirts from the International Male catalog while you're at it." 'Robin Masters' says.
    He begins pacing the room. "But there's things you can do to keep this place secure. You've got surveillance cameras, that's good, but first of all they're too obvious. You're going to want to have security guards do a sweep on the regular with infrared goggles in case they send in somebody who can turn invisible or otherwise hide themselves. There's a guy in Jersey who's training G-Sheps to sniff out shapeshifters, I can give you his number - they're expensive as hell but based on what I've seen worth every penny--"
    He pushes his sunglasses down and looks at Alexis. "Principessa, la tua sicurezza è una merda e potresti essere sorpreso, ma sei solo il volto di questo movimento, non siamo qui per impressionarti. Capire?"
    Then he looks back at her father, and steeples his fingers together. "I'm the next Tony Stark, the next Sebastian Shaw, the pro-human wunderkind of the 21st century. I'm cocky because if there's one humanity needs in the fight to secure its pure future untainted by Mutie trash, it's *absolute confidence*."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Some distance away in another room, the sister of Piotr Rasputin is doing things he would be facepalming into his mighty, steely hand to behold. Or he would be smashing through walls, a Kool-Aid Man escape.

"Violin, of course. The finest instrument," Illyana stresses that point quietly to the guard. She has the rounded English accent down beautifully, next to no traces present. That has to be dizzying to hear. "Worthy only of the finest hands." She allows herself to briefly trail off, a knowing smile starting to curve the fullness of her mouth, inviting them to share a secret behind closed doors. His turn flirting earns a sprinkling of hope, a dusting of encouragement with that slow pause taking in the lounge. "A man who knows what to do with his hands is a precious thing."

A quick nod to the lounge, and she puts a finger to her lips. "Just a moment then, my knight. Off to find that missing piece, so I will not have to play duet at three when he remembers where he put it." She gives a light roll of her shoulder and winnows in deeper to the lounge, stifling the click of her heels, because that midnight silhouette forged in the sorrows of a moonless night screams 'artiste' and 'musical talent' in eight foot tall letters. The sinuous movements conduct themselves with purpose, because she has every right to be here, recovering sheet music. 'Elizabeth', as she is, doesn't strain to hear anyone else. It doesn't go with the role she plays. Deep in the country of the enemy, straying to the truth is better than a lie. Buying time, is she? Aware or not, this is possibly the case. It's not like Doug, Roberto, and Sam don't know how to yell.

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie will look back over to Alexis, and mouths the word "Really?" but moves to follow Berto's lead and says "Need to make sure their is plenty of ice and ice buckets. there will need to be a constant flow, of champanee and the best bottles should be displayed.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    Filipe Caradenza remains un-impressed.

    "Allow me to make sure your ticket is refunded to you, Mr. Masters, and see yourself out. I would dare not put you in any situation where you had the utmost comfort, perhaps back to arguing with thirteen year olds behind the safety of your computer screen?"Padre, chi sono questi uomini?" "i musicisti sono tornati a casa ore fa. Solo la sicurezza dovrebbe essere attiva."

    he actually pulls out a phone, and begins to tap away at it in a rather peturbed fashion.

    In the back, Illyana might see the guard put his hand to his ear, and then he quietly turns to the dark-haired artiste.

    "Miss, I'm afraid you're going to have to call your boyfriend. There is an Incident, and I need to clear the buildling."

Alexis Carr has posed:
    Allegra looks like she is barely containing her anger as her eyes settle on Sam. And sighing something about 'dry air', she follows Sam and ROberto to the bar and hisses:

    "Water, please.

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto pours a water for Allegra and smiles, "Here you go miss," he says, then chucks his head down the bar. "I'm gonna go over here now if you have anything to say to my colleague here," Roberto smiles over at Sam. "Good luck, buddy." then Roberto busily demonstrates his understanding of the better part of valour.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
    He holds up his hand, and says, "A'ight, a'ight." He smirks, and then says, "But uh. Humanis? It's not popular among a lot of the younger true believers. Too stuffy... just a bunch of rich guys patting themselves on the back listening to violin recitals. My jury's still out." He looks around, and then says, "...Yeah."
    He sticks his hands in his pockets, and his mouth turns up at the corner. "But since I was planning on making a three hundred thousand dollar donation? I'll see you tomorrow." Now, Doug doesn't *have* three hundred thousand dollars to spend -- he's going to have to play the stock market tomorrow. He hates doing systems manipulation like that... it's *cheating*, conjuring lucre out of thin air like that.
    "I'll show myself out, though. You seem stressed." He grins, wide, and turns on his heel, and walks out. Then he snap-points at Sam. "You! Tall drink! ...You the valet? I'm double-parked and need someone to bring my car around. No? Bring it around anyway!"

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
The stress on incident yanks the brunette musician out of her reverie of searching. Caught up in the quest of looking briefly through sheet music, even Illyana can spot violin markings or 'second violin' written in a corner. Even she can raise her chin and widen her eyes. "An incident?" she mouths. "Oh no. That sounds terrible! It isn't that dastardly thief in the papers, that spider guy?" The sleeping gentleman on the tuba case receives a quick little look, and she hastens over his way, beelining around any discarded furniture or work.

A hasty little whisper in his ear becomes insistent. "Sir! Something's happened, we must go. Quickly, security has said so." Let that be the hook yanking him back to sleep as she nudges his shoulder and then starts back for the door. Out to the hall, whether her musician counterpart chooses to sleepily stumble out, and it's just a matter of picking the right labyrinthine path to leave.

Saunter, twist, go. She hastens along out back. If there isn't an obvious exit sign required by fire code leading her out the other way to the back of the opera house, as surely not /every/ guest appears by fancy car in the front, it's out by the others without giving them so much as a curious look. Casing the joint from within, after all, right?

Samuel Guthrie has posed:
Sam Guthrie will look at at Alexis. His voice low and speaking to her while her father is distracted "Just trying to make sure that you were safe." He looks her in the eye and adds "I promised I would be there to catch you, and I ment it." He looks over as Doug calls on him and sighs in frustration. "Yes, sir, come right away sir." He looks to Alexis "Excuse me please miss." He moves to head towards Doug.

Alexis Carr has posed:
    "No need, Mr. Masters. Enjoy your evening -- please see to it that Mr. Masters finds his way out of the building." Filipe states, and then turns and begins speaking in a rapid-fire, localized Italian into his phone.

    Alxis is holding that glass of water so tightly that the glass begins to creak, glaring at Sam until Doug rescues the poor Kentuckian lad from her wrath (FOR NOW), and she looks down at the water a moment before she whispers;

    "This is the second glass of water that should have gone all over him." to Roberto, and she sighs.

    Illyana would find that the labyrinthine halls of the opera house are limited only to a small section -- though the exit she is choosing to leave out of, on the side of the building, is also guarded by a guard == this one a tall, severe looking woman with her arms crossed.

Roberto da Costa has posed:
Roberto groans inwardly as he puts on a big smile, "Sure thing, sir," he reaches under the bar and palms a handful of sugar cubes for old fashions and adding a little extra sweetness to Irish coffees, or sticking in gas tanks. "I'll go get it right away."

With that Roberto wandering off whistling.

Douglas Ramsey has posed:
obin Masters expounds loudly and arrogantly on his favorite subject -- himself -- till he's well out of the building, and he can stop the charade.
    Doug gives Sam a look, and then says, in a low voice, "Well, there goes my ID, that stuffed poet's shirt isn't gonna let me back in here tomorrow, not even if I showed up tap-dancing with six hundred thousand dollars." He shakes his head, and says, "Okay." He says to Sam, as he walks out onto the curb and takes the cigarette hanging between his lips and tosses it out nto the curb, "Egh."
    "Tomorrow," He hisses, sotto voce, "You should *trust your friends* and stay home and pace a divot into the floor. It looks like *I* am going to be reduced to jacking into the security system remotely... I might have underestimated how much of a stuffed shirt your new boo's father is."
    "Now if Roberto can continue to pull off acting *impressed* by this dime store Hellfire Club knockoff, he's a better actor than me." He rubs the back of his neck.
    "I'm not mad at you." He says. "Exasperated, but not mad."

Illyana Rasputina has posed:
Well, it /is/ the surest way to get out. She follows the exit signs, doing exactly what they tell her to do. Mr. Tuba presumably follows after her. Facing the severe woman, there is nothing in the brunette musician's bearing suggesting other than concern and importance pointed away. "I was told to go right outside," she says briskly. "For our safety?" She gestures. Is Mr. Tuba behind her, it won't matter at all either way. She intends to zip through the exit unless otherwise reoriented to go some other way, very easily turned around. Because she obviously is. "Who would interrupt so important as this? Honestly, those kinds of people."

As long as Frau Farbissina doesn't stop her, the path continues looping around to the sidewalk where she is so calling an Uber. The girl won't link up with Sam or Doug, jabbing her phone. "Where /are/ you? It should not take fifteen minutes for a lift from this part of town. Ever. Do I have to do everything myself? Is it any faster to go two blocks south?"

Nudge nudge, hint hint. Once she is out the door, she meanders her path onward, making it damn well clear for the men where she is.