760/Hashtag: Selfie

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Hashtag: Selfie
Date of Scene: 25 March 2020
Location: The Dungeon - Hellfire Club
Synopsis: Fear and terror abound in the Dungeon Nightclub at the Hellfire as Dr. Crane tests out his newest ingestible fear toxin. And the big hero of the night... is HARLEY QUINN?
Cast of Characters: Emma Frost, Alex Summers, Harley Quinn, Tony Stark, Clea, Jean Grey, Natasha Romanoff, Sebastian Shaw, Hal Jordan, Carol Ferris, Karen Starr

Emma Frost has posed:
Free drinks night at the Dungeon is always busier than usual... of course. The club is already playing music loudly enough the pounding bassline can be clearly heard outside the thick wooden door entry. But being a board member has perks-- like not having to wait in the line to get in. Emma Frost, dressed head-to-toe in white as is her preference, is dressed to slay for the night: thin white tube top with a meshy fishnet shirt over it, belly button bared with a clear gemstone tucked in it, micro-miniskirt, and knee-high, platform combat boots that would be exactly zero use in actual combat. She isn't alone, having dragged Alex Summers with her through the VIP line.

The club's bar is fully staffed with bartenders already shaking mixed drinks for those who have already arrived; barbacks hustling to cut fruit, fetch ice, and grab more bottles from the storage in the back. It may be free drink night, but that doesn't mean weak drinks: heavy handed pours are the standard in the club anyway, and tonight is no exception.

The holo-projection over the dance floor "rains hellfire" down on those already grooving and grinding, many holding drinking in their hands as some angry, loud song (Emma thinks it's "Master of Magnets") by the mutant punk band Mutant X screams from the speakers.

Emma half drags Alex to the bar straight away, one of the bartenders perking up as he sees her. "Ms. Frost! Glad you came down tonight. The usual?"

"Two!" she replies over the volume pumping from the speakers. The bartender nods and slides two tall mixed drinks, an almost radioactive green, across to her. She nudges one towards Alex. "Midori Madness. It's good!" she says, taking a long sip. Then she glances across the club, pleased with the turnout. Everyone looks like they are having a good time.

Alex Summers has posed:
    "This place is crazy...." Alex says loudly so Emma can hear over the noise. He's dressed pretty down for the scene, a nice button-up shirt with short sleeves, jeans, and boots, the top button undone of the shirt so he can cool down a bit from the heat that's going to come from so many people dancing in a closed space. He takes the offered drink, sipping it curiously, then nods in approval.

    "This is a huge party!" he comments. "How much smoozing do you need to do and how much dancing do we get to do?"

Harley Quinn has posed:
The Clown Princess arrival is marked with some unusual looks, if not for her mode of dress, then certainly for her identity.. The rectus grin she's wearing as she saunters through the line, waiting with the plebs because she don't give a hoot about velvet rope treatment, is almost as sparklin' as her clothes are nonexistant...

Dolled up in something traditionally Harley.. Her usual pig-tails are worn far higher on her head than usual and appear dipped in blood with a running crimson dye that ombres down from her white-blonde curls... Left eye lined in shimmering stones along her dark brow, her makeup is thick enough to coat the side of a barn. All black eye-shadows over pale white skin, the small heart tattooed beneath her right eye is painted a vibrant crimson to match the red in her hair and the bloody kiss of her dangerously spread lips.

Everything is packed into an underbust corset checker pattern in reds and blacks, ending just above her belly button. The lines of one of her very many tattoos running towards the black eyed crimson skull ring dangling from her navel towards the low hip hugging skool-gurl skirt of matching design to her corset.

Thigh high black stocking socks with the visible garter tuck into platform style black leather lace front boots... Over all of this she's wearing her usual black leather jacket. Three spikes across her left shoulder, a dangling chain running beneath the left arm.. and a bright pink smiley on the back. Laboured with love... tailored with hatred..

Popping her gum as she finally passes into the loud base lead music, she walks with her hips towards the dance floor without ever stopping as if the singular purpose of her being her is to shake her barely covered ass.

Tony Stark has posed:
As they walk into the thudding wall of sound that is the Dungeon, Tony is focused on the StarkPhone in his hand. The screen reflects up onto the sunglasses he wears, and he frantically moves his thumb and forefinger. The app he's using is like nothing one would find on the Starkle App Market - looking something more like an array of numbers and line-forms cascading across the screen. He's dressed up for the occasion, a three-piece dark red suit with a tartan design, and a tailored white dress shirt.

"Hey," he leans over to 'Natalie Rushman-Stark' at his side, speaking up so he can be heard over the music, "Check this out. Ever seen a bald man have kittens?"

That said, he makes a flamboyant gesture from the phone's screen towards the holographic visual entertainment system. The gothic landscapes disappear, replaced instead by a waving flag and three-dimensional holographic representations of Iron Man soaring through the clear blue sky. Even the music is hijacked, cutting abruptly from metal to a heavier sounding rendition of 'Hail to the Chief' which itself transitions into 'Highway to Hell' by AC/DC. The words 'STARK 2020' hang in the air.

It looks like nothing could delight Tony more than this little stunt and he turns to Nat, grinning broadly. So extremely proud of his showing off.

Clea has posed:
The Hellfire Club: sort of place where a girl can completely end up swallowed by the crowd begins with a snaking line, the inevitable need for identification and being worthy of the security's approval. Not everyone has a famed nickname. On point of technicality, Clea is a girl and one of the plebs, as far as they know. Never mind the whole issue of, well, being sort of hellfire herself. She holds herself a little part, poured into an ultraviolet ensemble that crashes in fascinating ways, cut away to make for a hell of an impression. It could be the ancient Cypriot spiral necklace swept in a choker from throat to convergence at the waistline with an angled girdle of sorts that distracts to allow her admission. Maybe it's the fact that much gold in troy ounces probably commands a pretty penny. Somewhere. Couture to suit the clientele, then, and with it she glides right inside.

A phone discloses its presence with a mild chirp, messages tarted up in a scroll of information across the screen briefly checked after departing from the cool night. Minidresses do not lend themselves particularly well to staying toasty when in clammy March weather. She must palm the device up her sleeve or perform an act of total prestidigitation to force the Stark-branded smartphone to vanish out of sight, the fanfare of AC/DC and salutations to Iron Man most definitely not lost on her. She tracks the holographs spinning around as she navigates around Tony and Natasha, a stifled smile becoming something truer to the little display. "Nobody's gonna mess me around. Hey, Satan, paying my dues, playin' in a rock band," she sings as she veers through the buoyant melange of people. Feet to the floor. Must remember not to float.

Jean Grey has posed:
Jean Grey is known, at least by her students, for dressing modestly and not exactly standing out too much in a crowd.

But, well, this isn't exactly the setting for //that//, now is it?

So, Jean wears a crimson corset that definitely enhances her not-inconsiderable charms, a matching choker around her neck. Her hair is worn loose and wild, as she also wears a short black skirt and fishnets, and black heels. She meanders easily over towards Emma, and grins at her, "Nice party you have here... and what is //that// you're drinking?" One eyebrow arches a bit, her smile growing as she glances over towards Alex.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha honestly wonders if she's being tested. It's a security nightmare in here! But! If he's going to go - and if she can't physically threaten him into reconsidering, then damn it if she's not going to do her job, handicapped or not!
    So Natalie Stark, Tony's hitherto unknown vibrant-red-haired beauty of a wife accompanies Tony, affecting good cheer and impressed wonder at her surroundings. She's dressed in a pair of sexy knee high black boots held on with straps and belt buckles, with modestly high heels; a short black skirt, and a tight fitting black top, cut so that her shoulders are bare despite the presence of sleeves, and there is a generous - though not scandalous - display of cleavage at work.
    No, she will not tell you why she has this outfit.
    "Tonyyyyyy..." Natalie leans on his shoulder, expression amused - visibly holding in a laugh - but her voice is gently chastising. "You get ten more seconds, then you gotta give them their club back, okay? You can trade back and forth." She is very un-Natasha; it's possibly a little spooky, but there is a certain sparkle in her eyes now that one who actually knows her wouldn't normally get to see.
    "But yes, it is *very* neat~"

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
12 floors up, Sebastian Shaw is seated in his private office, tapping away at a laptop computer, and going over some balance sheets and other business-related material. After a few moments, his ever-faithful assistant Tessa enters and notes matter-of-factly:

"You may wish to know, Sir, Dr. Harleen Quinzel is presently in the Dungeon."

Shaw looks up from his computer, wheels turning inside his head, before he asks, "Is she causing any disturbance?"

"Not at present." Tessa answers.

"Then have security keep an eye on her and unless she causes a problem let her enjoy herself." Shaw starts tapping at his computer again, as Tessa starts to turn away. She pauses, however, a hand going to the small earpiece she's wearing, and she turns around again.

"It appears Mr. Tony Stark has arrived, and has hacked the Visual Entertainment System in the Dungeon to display a campaign advertisement."

Shaw looks up again, something FAR more fiery flashing in his eyes at that. This is HIS domain. His face twists into an angry scowl and he starts to rise to his feet, then pauses, settling back down and thinking better of it. After all, publicly he hasn't taken sides. Though thankfully Stark may have just given him the perfect alibi. "Send Pepper Potts a message that Stark owes us a million per thirty seconds. And have a statement prepared apologizing to our clients for the incident. We'll let Lex condemn Stark's cavalier attitude towards cyber-crimes."

"I'll see to it immediately, Sir."

Shaw drums his fingers on the desk, then shakes his head, "Nevermind, I'll see to it myself. He deserves that much." He rises from his desk, not bothering to put his coat back on, pausing only to step into the next room and send a series of forceful punches into an adamantium plate hanging on the wall. Never hurts to have a little insurance. "Keep monitoring. I'll likely be back shortly."

Hal Jordan has posed:
Hal got a big bonus for his charity work. He isn't quite sure how the flier for the Hellfire club ended up on his desk, but the bonus he got more than covers it. And he's never been in this place before. The flier just HAPPENED to be open to the dungeon section...so that's where Mr. Jordan wandered in. And he wanders in just in time to see...Tony Stark overtake the party, because of course he did.

So, instead of being lured into an ostensibly sexy environment for whatever reason, Hal now wonders if he was somehow tricked into a political rally of some kind. "I was not expecting that."

For this sort of excursion, Hal's just in a short sleeve button up shirt, jeans, his usual boots. And the ring, of course. Gotta have the bling. Even if it's not the usual bling found in a club like this.

Carol Ferris has posed:
There are rules, many, many rules. One is that plebs happen, it's part of things. Does it spoil the night for some? Maybe! Not Carol though. Something about tonight has tipped over from good to great, and there doesn't appear to be much evidence of what that tipping point was.

First, she arrives alone. She doesn't even really make a splash when she arrives. Not in this kind of crowd, at least. She's dressed for the environment, however. Long dark hair has been twisted into curls that are pinned up to allow the silver and amethyst drop earrings to catch the light. A matching wide jeweled collar of silver and amethyst is worn with a larger heart-shaped stone that rests against her breast bone with a satin and sheer long-line black bra and black miniskirt. Heels? Tall boots? Not tonight. Instead she's got a pair of black sandals with ribbon ties that wind all the way up to above her knee.

All in all very low-key herself. As soon as she arrives she's starting to head for the bar, eyes scanning the crowds for any familiar faces.

Emma Frost has posed:
The crowd makes a concentrated murmur of confusion as the music changes, but a appreciative roar goes up as the Stark 2020 advertisement plays across the holographic entertainment system.

Emma takes a looooong drink at that. She sighs, looking to Alex. "Well, not much schmoozing. I'm mostly yours for the night." And she gives him a very blatant once over and a wink. As Jean approaches, she gives the redhead a grin. "Jean!! I'm glad you could make it. They didn't give you any problems out front? This is a Midori Madness... midori, vodka, gin, lemon juice, lime juice, and a cherry. You should get one. Oscar--" she looks back to the bartender. "Another for Jean here, please." The bartender nods and slides another over quickly.

Emma glances at the political advertisment. "Well... Sebastian never comes down here, but he may be making an exception soon." He takes poorly to... mischief of this sort. She knows he's quite protective of his club. "Still." She slides one arm around Alex, the other hand holding her drink. She leans up and kisses his cheek. "We'll have plenty of time to dance, I'm sure."

Clea has posed:
/Violet/ gem? That is bound to catch Clea's eye before the other assortment of intrigues out there, other faces noted where the platinum-blonde goes. Hair so fair it should rightly be called white she curls around her fingers, anchoring one twist after another, then casting it off her plum-braced shoulder. Her gaze follows over the drop earrings and collar Carol wears, an approving nod becoming a warm, scintillating smile. "So elegant!" she says in a voice mildly accented, almost eastern instead of anything New York. "That makes an exquisite statement." Her own attire is in the darkest range of purple, trending to wine, so it makes for an easy comparison.

A quick swivel places her into the realm of the bar, though she has time yet to consider the top shelf and then meandering lower to see the offerings. If anything stands out, at least, rather than the bartender. Much more interesting to listen in, eavesdropping rather discreetly, on what drinks ought to be tried. A brief, fleeting smile for Alex, Jean, and Emma conveys blithe interest. "Would you forgive me for asking how sweet the Midori Madness is?" As if forgiveness is a boundless commodity rather than devilishly rare in the vicinity.

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex looks over and doubletakes slightly at Jean's outfit. //Whoa. Man, I feel underdressed. Or overdressed now.// he thinks, sipping from his drink as he makes a little face at Tony's addition to the video and audio, tilting his head. Well, it's kinda what he does, Alex figures. Nothing wrong with that. "Hmm, is Luthor here tonight? Not his scene, I'd guess, but that'd be....messy." he says loudly over the noise, then nods to Jean. "Hey Jean...here by yourself tonight?" he says curiously.

Jean Grey has posed:
Jean smiles and tosses Alex a wink, as she notices the double take, then glances over towards Clea, giving the new arrival a wider smile, "Certainly. It's midori, vodka, gin, lemon and lime juice, and a cherry." She hmms, and takes a pretty solid drink, then her eyes go a bit wide. "... I'm not sure if sweet is quite the word for it, it's //something// for certain, miss."

She then glances over towards Alex, and sighs a bit, "Oh yes, by myself for the moment, it's... a long story." Between broken hearts and avoiding timelost children, she decided to just come by herself it seems. Though her eyes roll a bit when Tony Stark makes his entrance.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Cause a scene? Harley? Never...

She was just beginning to move, in a very suggestive manner I might add, when Tony hyjacks the whole teleprompt to remind everbody he's runnin' for presidential stuff... Her head cants slightly, awkwardly, and unblinking blue eyes turn side ways to look up at the image, pumping her fist with the woof woof woof drum intro, bouncing around in circles with her pig-tails bobbing about her head like pendulums! "HIGH WAY TUH HEEEEEELL!" Making gun report jerking motions at someone, who catches on with her big grin and joins in, shaking his shoulders towards the Clownettes spike shoulder wiggles in his direction. WHOA! Where's the Joker?!

It was a mistake on the guys part mentioning the clown.

Her expression goes temporarily volcanic, but the smile shifts right back into place on her blood red lips... shaking towards him until she's nearly within smell my breath distance.. her hand slam forward into his chest with the flat of her palms, then jerk into backward windmills like a Hardcore show... Back blasting into a group of other dancers with her fists slamming behind her. Giving 0.000000 fucks who or how big they are.

Want a scene?

Protocol: Harley Hardcore Pit is initiated.

Karen Starr has posed:
    How exactly does one come to a party and be dressed completely inappropriately every time? Power Girl should teach lessons. Fresh out of a relatively boring days' work of being Karen Starr, this particular blonde is looking to cut loose... Except there's a depressing shortage on people to punch.

    She has, however, heard of a strange, underground benefit for the population now bereft of what was to become their new homeland.

    These things aren't Power Girl's thing. Kal was always so much better at being a public face. People -invited- him to things. There were -races-... And here she is busting up parties just because she feels like He'd want her to let the world know it's safe.

    Tony gets a ping. "McGee is on her way, sir." the familiar voice of his family's long time """Employee""" alerting him of a specific radar profile approaching this portion of New York at Mach Why.

    Descending from the heavens at the gate, clad in ivory, Power Girl approaches the bouncer. Her cape flows in the wind, and her resting Power Girl face is as intense as it always is. Does he have the courage to stop her? Does he even have the courage to ask her to stand in line?

    The answer is that he's damn good at his job, but he's not stupid. He asks for the cover charge, and what Power Girl gives him- cash, despite the modern day being what it is- enough to cover her own presence and that of several others. Where she gets it is anyone's guess, but it comes from inside a compartment in her left gauntlet.

    That doesn't mean he neglects his duty, though. He phones in the presence of the cape, and that's going to make its way up the chain to whomever it does. Karen overhears it, but expects it.

    This is her in an okay mood. Waiting in line wasn't going to end well anyway. It's not as if she wouldn't be recognized.

    The thunderous music isn't enough to shake her, but for the moment she's Earthbound, making her way across the floor- towering above most. Once she's in, and she's shaken off the problems of -getting- there, she's all smiles. She's here to make people feel safe. She didn't bully her way in- but waiting in that line would have taken so long that she wouldn't have been able to make an appearance at all.

    She sticks out like a sore thumb- and she stands alone amongst the crowd, doing her best to calmly, and without incident, make her way to the bar.

Tony Stark has posed:
"This is one of those 'yes, dear' moments you hear about, isn't it?" Tony asks Nat, holding out his phone and continuing the display for another ten seconds. As he does, a text message pops up accompanied with a photo of Pepper's face and the words 'STOP PLAYING MUSIC! ACCOUNTANTS HAVING HEART ATTACK!'. Tony begrudgingly deactivates his little light show, allowing the club to have their atmosphere back. The phone pings something about 'McGee' where Nat can see, and he quickly tucks it away in his pocket.

Power Girl's arrival doesn't go unnoted, and he turns to regard the blonde making her way through the club. Then he turns slowly back to Natasha, eyebrows raised as he jerks a thumb over his shoulder.

"We haven't talked to her about this yet, have we?"

Carol Ferris has posed:
When Clea offers her compliment at first Carol doesn't register that she's talking to /her/. Then it clicks, and she glances over, eyes flicking over her darker wine clothes, "Not so bad yourself. Adore the choice of color."

The description of the drink gets a thoughtful look, then she twists around to flag down the bartender, "I'll have one of those!" One. Two. Hard to tell since she says one, but holds up two fingers.

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma smiles at Clea. "It's a little tart, a little sweet." And very strong, but that's without saying. She relinquishes her hold on Alex for a moment to offer her hand. "Emma Frost." She quickly scans the crowd as the music returns to the DJs control, a goth-tinged EDM song blasting from the speakers as the holo-projector starts spinning dancing skeletons in a necropolis on the dance floor. She glances to Carol and gives her a grin. "Ms. Ferris."

Oscar the bartender gives Carol two.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natalie grins brilliantly and says "You catch on fast~" She says merrily, patting Tony twice on the shoulder and then linking her fingers over his shoulder to lean onto him teasingly. She glances at the screen now and then, and one can readily get the impression she is literally sounding the seconds before Pepper's message makes her laugh softly. "Orders are orders." She says, and smooches Tony softly on the cheek when the lights go back to normal. She squints slightly at the screen, then, and asks, "Do we know a McGee?"
    Then Power Girl is towering above the crowd, and 'Natalie' vanishes for a split second to expose Natasha squeezing her eyes shut very hard, looking very vexed. "Weeee suuuuure haven't...!" Natasha says slowly, needing a second to reacuire her chipper Natalie Rushman cadence.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Hal happens to head towards Emma, Clea, and Jean. For some reason, Carol doesn't catch his eye right away, mostly because his brain refused to process the idea of his boss being in a place like this...but somehow, he got the impression it was basically Emma's club, so thought he'd greet what seems to be the person in charge. Except...yowza, they do dress to impress around here, and not in the business sense.

"Heya. I'm kinda new around here...was that supposed to happen?" The Stark2020 thing. He got the impression this was a 21+ nightclub, not a political thing.

He jussssst missed Emma saying Carol's last name out loud. Probably lost it in the noise.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Ya know who else sees Power Girl enter?

"PEEJ!!!" Incoming not-so-jugglette! Running across the dance floor, uncaring of anyone in her path, shovy pushing her way through with relative ease even.. Does she even lift, bro? Yes she do... Yes, she, do.

Cartwheel, backflip, spinning round off, arms and legs aimmed to wrap RIGHT AROUND the towering super heroine (fine print: Unless she's blocked or Power Girl moves!)

"Heya!" SMOOCH! Big ol crimson lips on her cheek.

"Dance wit me? There's dancin'!" Incase she wasn't aware.

"Ya gotta dance wit' me! Promise, pinky sweah!" Pink up, out, waiting! Can't leave a crazy girl waitin', babe.

Clea has posed:
"Thank you for the recommendation." This for Emma comes from Clea, on the other side of Carol. She takes the extended hand in kind, her own touch light and warm. Perhaps a touch warmer than spring ought to give, but nothing feverishly concerning. "Enchanted, Ms. Frost. Clea," she replies in kind. "An eventful evening thus far." Then the music calls with its scored beat cutting deep into the marrow, teasing the mind to wander down dark avenues.

"Another for me, please," Clea adds on behalf of Oscar, the bartender given an additional nod in case there might be any doubts about her intentions. "Why not have something appropriately citrusy? A cherry on top." The light timbre of the foreign lilt weaves a teasing impression around the dulcet tones of her voice, a pretty enchantment to the ear. Back to the bar, she claims no stool as her own, content to reside against the ground. A good amount of activity thrumming around Power Girl's dramatic entrance fails to ruffle her feathers, a sidelong look of interest checking the voluminous cape with interest. Fashionista, this one. "The amethysts are a lovely touch. Here's to everything worth enjoying." Gold flickers in spirals and arcane arrangements last imagined on a Mediterranean isle roughly three thousand years ago or so, Cycladic whorls meeting with antique tawny finishes for a chained dazzle running stem to nearly stern. She raises her hand in a greeting to Hal. "Likely not, sir, but if it has? Make the most of it, right?"

Carol Ferris has posed:
"Ms. Frost." Carol offers right back to Emma at the greeting, a smile added for good measure before the arrival of Hal snags her attention. There is a quick once over, noting the jeans and very low-key clothing choices. No comment, though. Instead she snags one of the drinks brought to her by Oscar and then she's reaching over to push the drink into Hal's hand.

Maybe that's just how this place works, right?

"Thank you...I have to say probably one of my favorite colors." Carol offers to Clea, probably still talking about the purple stones that she's wearing. "First time here?"

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Sebastian Shaw strides through the entrance to the Dungeon like he owns the place. Because he does. Like a few others he doesn't exactly look dressed for the occasion, really just in some black dress pants and a matching dress shirt, with it's sleeves rolled up partway on the forearms and the collar unfastened. He makes a beeline for Tony...or he would, but most of the clubgoers don't know who he is and are busy getting back to dancing away, so he has to maneuver around them to get to Tony, but eventually he finds himself before Mr. Stark and his "date" (as far as he's aware.

It's not a furious scowl on his face by then, though there is certainly an undercurrent of "not cool" behind the smile he directs towards Tony, his voice loud enough to carry over the music, at least so Tony and Natasha can hear him:

"We're supposed to be neutral ground, Tony. I would appreciate it if you would respect that." He looks to Natasha and inclines his head, "Please forgive my interruption. Sebastian Shaw, Chairman of the Hellfire Club. I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Miss...?"

Karen Starr has posed:
    Striding across the floor as best she can, Karen spots the tail end of the political demonstration from Tony, and all she can say about it is a quiet "Huh." before she progresses further.

    She'd taken a few more steps before she noticed Tony- and "Natalie"- but decided that that probably wasn't the best place for her to be, at least not right at -that- moment, right here, right now. She gives him a thumbs up, as he removes the ad.

    Then, there's a shrill projectile being fired at her and, once again, all she can manage is a quiet "Well," before Harley clatters into her like she's a six-three balance beam. Such is Harley's impressive weight that... Power Girl doesn't budge. What could one expect?

    She does shift in such a way that it's more of a catch than just slamming into her side at high speed like some sort of nearly-criminally-insane set of Bolas. Deft enough is she do to that, but the playful smooch on her cheek is difficult to avoid. She sighs, rolling her eyes for a moment and giving Harley this faux-disapproving smirk. "Okay. Maybe. I'm not a dancer, I hit things, it's not like dancing."

    For a moment, Power Girl is in that standoff against Harley regarding a dance, before she comes to the understanding- it doesn't take long- that Harley won't let her go until she agrees. There is a sigh. She reaches up with the arm that Harley hasn't entangled, and does the deed, shaking the other woman's hand with her outstretched, smallest digit. "Fine. One dance. At some point before the party's over."

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma looks to Hal, tilting her head. "I'm sorry, sir-- it seems one of our VIPs got a little exhuberant. Everything is back to normal now." She snuggles back against Alex's side. And she totally doesn't move a hand down to lightly tweak his butt, nope, not her. Emma Frost is a well-behaved, good girl.

She downs another swallow of her drink, looking to Jean. "We'll have to hit the dance floor in a bit. There's little in the world that can't be fixed, at least temporarily, with some music and dancing."

She seems to consider it for the moment. She really isn't here to work tonight, after all, and she did tell Alex... "In fact... let's go now." She grins at Alex, downing the rest of her drink, gesturing towards the dance floor.

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex idly watches Tony and Natasha make their way across the floor, and their meeting with Shaw. "Huh. Never would have expected he'd settle down with just one woman." he mutters, checking Natasha out curiously. Well, no faulting his taste, he supposes, though now he's wondering what she brought to the table. Is she someone who works with Stark? Another technologist? CEO? Something like that? Huh. Inquiring minds are curious!

    He slides an arm around Emma as she leans against him, giving her a little affectionate squeeze as he hmmms, feeling increasingly outnumbered as beautiful women join them at the bar. Safe! Hal will balance....sorta. "Enjoy the party!" he says with the others as he's tugged off by Emma towards the dance floor with a grin.

Jean Grey has posed:
Jean grins over at Emma, "Now //that// sounds like a good plan." She looks at Emma and Alex as they wander off, then seems to shrug a bit, leaning back against the bar, taking another drink from the glass. Not quite finishing it yet, as she watches everyone interact, seeming more curious than anything else...

Until she sees Power Girl show up, which causes her to cough a little bit as... well, that wasn't a person she expected to see //here//.

Harley Quinn has posed:
There is no bargaining with Harley, it's true. She's grinning practically ear to ear and weathering the stern stand-off-ishness that is Power Girls usually domineering eye rolling glare as if she neither knows it's directed at her OR would have cared if she had... Nope.

She hangs there, ankles hooked behind Peej's back, one arm around her left arm, holding up her own left with the pink extended until the heroine relents! "Yay!" Smooch! With her promise signed in pinky-promises, which are forever like kisses, the clownette loosens her not so strong grip (by comparison) and slides bodily down Peej in a way that was definitely kind of, probably accidentally, salacious.

Heavy leaning. Staring up with her head bent way back because she's chin to chest with the much taller woman. "Is tha' Tony Stahk?" Turning her head to rest it against a nice set of pillows, just because they're there and she can, "HEY TONY STAHK! I'M HA'LEE QUINN!" Pointing at herself with both hands, "Heah, right ovah heah, Me, yeah ya see me.. HEY! I'm gonna go say hello. Come'on, le's go say hello tah Tony Stahk an' his redhead... ya evah notice how many redheads there are? I can name five wit'out even tryin'." Tsk tsk, "Bunch of soulless people in'es world, I tells ya."

Hal Jordan has posed:
Well...his brain can no longer ignore it. That is Carol Ferris, in a mini dress, with plenty of amethysts, and dressed to kill poor innocent test pilots. Well. For some definitions of 'kill.' Definitely some possible slaying going on.

"...Didn't expect to see you here." And, well, his eyes are being treated to a sight they never thought they'd see. Sure, Jean's there too, and Clea, but...Carol has captured most of his attention for the moment.

Clea has posed:
Low-key clothing goes a long way. It stands out even in the midst of the galactic spiral of countless luminaries and smaller stars. Something Clea considers, squeezing in sideways to leave the vacant space beside her free to Hal should he wish to mosey up to the bar alongside the other people-watchers. The glass received from Oscar, when he returns, she holds up to examine with rapt interest. Perhaps images flowing behind it, the dancers with their inexcusable elegance or the thrashing violence invoked by Harley, is just too fascinating to ignore without framing it somehow. Midori and lime: chaos in shades of green. "Hit the dancefloor is rarely taken so literally."

Her fingertip slides around the rim of the glass and she hefts it slightly higher, not quite bringing it to her lips. "The first, yes. I wasn't sure what to expect. Certainly as lively as any sort of club I had come to expect here." The sentence almost trips along while she smiles at Carol. Something reminds her to bite the words back, just at the end. "Mr. Stark, perhaps. Though the dance floor, not entirely sure."

Tony Stark has posed:
"Neutral ground, huh? Well, hey, I can appreciate that. I'm a reasonable guy, right Nat?" Tony smiles confidently, wrapping an arm around Natalie and drawing her in close, "Incredibly reasonable."

Tony makes a gesture with his free hand over his head and in a wide circle: "We can call all of that a technical glitch, and I'll forget the millions of dollars of neutrality you boys are pumping into Luthor's campaign, huh?"

If he's spotted the ire in Shaw's face, it doesn't give him pause. If anything, it just spurs him on. Even outside the hi-tech suit of armor, Tony Stark feels thoroughly invincible.

"Pepper mentioned the bill," Tony pats his breast pocket where he's deposited his phone on the inside of his jacket, "Seems a little low. You sure I can't go a few more minutes?"

The phone is in his hand again, and he holds it in the directions of the holograms like a remote control. His focus momentarily shifts to Harley yelling his name, before he returns his focus solely to Sebastian. He lifts a finger, as though about to push the button while looking pointedly at Sebastian: "Ah!" Closer to the button, "Ah!" He draws it away a bit, "Ahhhh?" Then back closer.

Carol Ferris has posed:
"Have fun." Carol calls after the pair that are departing for the dancefloor, then she shrugs her shoulders very faintly at Clea, "You'd be right, for the most part. Many things here are just like every other club in the world." Or galaxy. "You've music, alcohol, flashing lights, dancing." She twists around to grab the other drink, that mysterious second one she ordered. Maybe she just had some clue that Hal would turn up and need a drink? Or it's just really all dumb luck in the end and she'd have had two drinks instead of one to herself.

"The dancing is the best part about clubs, though. Don't you agree, Hal?" Nope, no more ignoring it, and she's not going to give away anything about him seeing her here of all places.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natasha makes a bit of a show out of being impressed by Sebastian's height as he approaches - zeroing in on his unhappiness before he speaks - and then acts startled out of her train of thought when Sebastian chastises Tony. She affects an embarrassed smile, and glances from Shaw, to Tony, and back, reaching out and giving Tony a quick squeeze on the arm as if to say 'Honey, he has a point'. When Tony puts his arm around her she smiles and replies. "So reasonable." Then she pokes him in the ribs. "With the right motivation."
    When Shaw asks her name she says "Oh I'm Natalie. Nice to meet you, hello." She says and offers and awkward little wave. "I'll try and help him behave, so..." she lifts her shoulders as if to say 'it's a work in progress'.
    Tony's teasing with the phone... does't help, and Natasha lowers her head, shaking it slightly, "Tony." A squeeze of the arm, "Tony, please." She looks to Sebastian. "He's very competitive, I'm sorry."

Emma Frost has posed:
As Emma and Alex push through the crowd to the dance floor, Emma bumps into a tall, lanky, geeky-looking man sitting at the bar, sipping a glass of water. "Excuse me!" she chirps to the guest, rushing past him with Alex in tow.

The man watches the two mutants pass him, idly sipping his water. He continues to observe the clubgoers clinically, only occasionally glancing at what looks to be a watch on his wrist.

The music shifts as Emma and Alex get to the floor, under what's now spinning chains and flails, and whips cracking unheld by human hands. Among the sea of bodies writhing on the floor, Emma joins in, dancing with Alex (and giving minor telepathic 'nudges' to anyone trying to cut in).

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
"I've maxed out my personal donations to both of you, same as I do for virtually every campaign, and can't speak as to the other Board members. We're here to run a Club, not a campaign, and I would hate to have to revoke your VIP membership over something like this." Shaw's tone is measured, even, and his smile grows at least more gracious as "Natalie" introduces herself, "A pleasure. It likely takes a remarkable woman to try to keep Tony on the straight and narrow." His expression grows wry, "I wish you the best of luck. But a competitive spirit drives many of us in the business world, I'm afraid."

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex waves to Jean as he's pulled out to dance and falls into the rhythm. He's not exactly the most skilled dancer ever, but he's not horrible either! Athleticism helps! Though he's not going to be at, say, Harley's level. Unless it comes to a mosh pit maybe.

    Either way, he dances close with Emma from time to time, resting hands on her hip sfrom behind and spinning her around when the right moment comes, shaking his hips to the sounds.

    Which is why when he sees concentric rings start to appear around his right hand, he freezes, his eyes widening slightly. Of course, no one else can see them but him. But he's seeing them...which is impossible. He vented excess plasma before he came...they told him it wouldn't do that unless he was too full!

Hal Jordan has posed:
Hal is about to ask Carol to dance. That's when he realizes...he feels a little funny. And he starts to see things...

First...he sees yellow. That's odd. This doesn't appear to be a bright sunshiney club...

Then, he sees in the field of yellow Sinestro's symbol. The symbol of all fear in the universe, just has a circle with a line above and below is the symbol of all willpower. Is Sinestro here, then? Who else would know about Sinestro's symbol?

But beyond that, a monstrous entity, literally MADE of fear, the physical embodiment of all fear in the universe...glares monstrously at the Green Lantern...Hal Jordan is staring, he wants to use the Ring, but...

Karen Starr has posed:
    Karen rocks her head back. She bemoans, momentarily, when she was her own guide through a party like this. When she could make it to the bar without being aggreeably tugged in one way other the other. Not that she's fighting Harley- she's trying to help the girl get her life back to something resembling on track.

    The way Harley dismounts is ignored, for the best, because picking one's battles is best, and she doesn't feel like trying to navigate that particular conversational maze.

    As Harley aims to take her attention over to Tony, Karen pauses for a moment, noticing Jean and looking mildly perplexed for half a moment before Harley is inevitably rushing off, and Karen can't necessarily abide Harley just running around the club doing as she pleases- this is a chaotic environment and it's likely going to result in the other blonde backsliding a little.

    "I think that's gingers," she comments, before the two of them arrive at Tony, Natasha, and Sebastian. "Good evening." she remarks, brow raised. "Not the kind of place I'd imagined I'd see you, Tony. But, I'll admit, it's starting out pretty nice, so far."

Clea has posed:
"Dancing and music." Clea sets her fingers to the stem of the glass, its wet polish slinking in a fascinating sensation against her palm and her wrist. She finger-dabbles patterns that link condensation into the sinuous motion, all while the heady beat of music accompanies Hal and Carol's interplay. Being overlooked doesn't exactly bother the white-haired, tall woman as she allows the slowing course of the evening to permeate her veins. A heaving morass of humanity crashes against untouched shores, not quite reaching pockets where Shaw discusses matters of import (TM) with Tony and Nat, nor the edges of the bar where she lingers. The tip of her wrist commands a sharper angle, sending the Midori Madness in waves and solemn currents, all of it nearly hypnotic.

What hells are spawned for those not born of Earth, nor any terrestrial realm of the same star-dappled universe, but creation's dark shadow? Her crystal-bright eyes cant away. The wrinkle of her nose responds not to a light but an obstacle that must cast it, and that means /probably/ the biggest thing in the room. Person. And from that she goes zigzagging immediately away from the bar, losing herself in the opiate of the masses, the dance-floor, among the thickest plunge of people writhing and twisting to the hammer-crack beat drowning out thought, deed, intent. Not enough.

At not one point do her feet touch the ground.

Tony Stark has posed:
"I'll bet," Tony tells Shaw with all the faux sincerity he can muster, though the little aside from Nat prompts him to drop the phone back into his pocket, "Neutral ground. Right."

There's quite clearly a not more he has to say - or wants to say - but he ultimately keeps it to himself. He makes a casual glance around the club, noting the dancers with a furrowed brown. After a moment he raises his eyebrows and offers Sebastian a finger-wave, turning his shoulder about to lean in close and murmur to Nat.

"Is it just me," he murmurs, making it look like he's kissing her neck instead of whispering to her like he is, "Or does it seem like everyone here is out of their minds?"

Power Girl's arrival prompts him to stand up straight to face her, smiling amiably: "Hey, Power Girl. Good to see you." His eyes shift to Harley, subtly reaching into his pocket to engage a little feature on his phone that prevents nearby electronic devices from capturing his image photographically for the moment: "Insane Clown Posse. How's the Faygo?"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma dances with Alex, occasionally grinding up on him and generally pretending that nothing else exists in the world but them and the music. She isn't focusing on 'listening' to what's going on around her, really.

But she can hear the whispers, judging her. Mocking her. She grits her teeth, a small voice inside her begging her to blast the people around her into a vegetative state. How dare they? Didn't they see who she is?! But the larger voice in her head joined these voices, telling her how right they were...

Even Alex's face became mocking and judging. Emma falters, stepping back, stumbling a bit.

The normal buzz of the club changes in tenor and tone. Several of the clubgoers are obviously becoming agitated. Some are beginning to cry, and swat at the air around them. Others are moving to cower behind other clubgoers, barstools or tables. A sudden spark, as apparently one of the clubgoers is a metahuman with a power to shoot minor amounts of electricity.

After a few moments, someone screams. Another scream.

Carol Ferris has posed:
"Hal?" Carol is fairly certain that he heard her, what she isn't so certain about is if he got the subtle nudge. He doesn't appear to have, although a direct question should be answered. Either way.

There is a frown that flickers across Carol's face before she lifts her glass up for an overly healthy swallow, the glass obscuring her expression do no one is having to deal with the frown. After the thoughts tumble around through her head does she start to turn back towards Clea, just in time for the white-haired woman to head away from the bar. That didn't go like expected, and she lets her gaze shift back towards Hal, the drink abandoned on the bar as she starts to look around. It's a subtle thing. Nothing visual for her. Instead there is the rising tide of irritation and anxiety.

Or maybe it is visual, because she starts to give those milling around her and Hal a look, seeing them looking. Not at her, but at Hal. "God...just one night."

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley is a chaotic whirlwind, it's true. The Dancefloor is feeling the effects, the little mosh-pit steadily growing even without her presence, so it's on to the next bit of random act of turbulance: The interaction between Sabastian Shaw and Tony Stark! With the special guest star, Nalalie Rushman-Stark! "Hey!" Waving around with the kind of bemusement only children or the truly touched can pull off without forcing it.

A temporary reprieve to Karen, "Whats tha difference?" Gingers and Redheads... She shrugs, all shoulders and gripping the super heroines wrist until they're right up there with the billionaire. Thusfars unaware that Hal's losin' the noodles in his ramen.

"Oh I get it, cus of tha Jokah, yer a funny guy foah a fifty year old... Might woahk on yer material though.. Kinna early two thousandish, but I give ya top mahks fer tryin', huh?" Laughing, hearty laughing, belly rumbling, hand on her tum-tum laughter. There's a knee slap, "Hey, Mr. Tony Stahk, I'm Ha'lee Quinn." Offering her hand out, side eyeing Natalie, side eyeing Sabastian. "Man, ya coul't cut the tension ovah heah wit a knife..." Hand up to stage whisper to Peej beside her, she's plenty loud enough.

"It's like thah one movie with thah guy in it. Tha's you two." Motioning from Tony to Sabastian.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    Natalie grins a bit bashfully to Sebastian and says "Well I- I try my best. Ongoing project, you know." And gives an oddly cute little shrug, giving the impression that she's a bit out of her depth, before Tony turns her around and leans in.
    "Oh!" She gasps softly and giggles, keeping a million dollar smile on her face even as she softly, flatly answers, "It's not just you, this place is a nightmare." Immediately followed by a cheerful surprised "*Hiiiiiii* omigosh you're- you're Power Girl!" She grins and very softly and quickly speaks without moving her lips "DonotsaymynameI'llexplainlater" before saying "My name's Natalie, hello, Tony's told me about you!" She looks to Harley and says, "You..." she briefly looks perplexed, asthough suddenly realizes she does NOT recognize Harley and says, "Ah- hello! Are you Power Girl's friend? You're very creatively dressed." She compliments her.
    And thent he first scream breaks out and her head turns very sharply look towards the news. "What was that? Did anybody hear that?"

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Sebastian Shaw is a perceptive man, albeit not to the point that he can overhear Tony's whisper to Natasha. Still, he seems aware of a shift in the atmosphere. He's about to say something else to Tony, but he glances past him to some of the disturbed dancers, then around again to take in more of the crowd.

"Something's wrong."

Shaw's blue eyes turn past Tony and "Natalie" and Karen and fall on...Harley. He doesn't look afraid, he looks...rather furious. "I am going to be -very- generous and assume this is not your work, Dr. Quinzel?"

Not that she likely gets a chance to answer, because that's when the screaming starts.

"Oh for..." Shaw growls, "Someone keep ahold of Dr. Quinzel." He barks, whether at Tony or Natalie or Karen or whoever isn't quite clear, because he's turning away and fishing a phone out of his pocket, starting to bark orders, but a flailing, panicked dancer jostles him and sends the phone clattering to the ground where it promptly gets crushed under someone else's foot.

"Damn it all!" And now Shaw's trying to move through the crowd, towards some of the security staff, trying to yell over the crowd, "Kill the entertainment system and get all the exits open! And for God's sake someone call 911."

Alex Summers has posed:
    Alex stumbles back from Emma, but for different reasons. He's losing control. He can't be near her, he has to find someplace...the concentric circles seem to spread around him as the air around him seems to heat, as the circles radiate out...tablecloth catching fire...then dancers nearby as the power seems to pulse around him. "N-no, gotta get out...can't...I can't hold it..."

    And to people around him...there is a reaction as the concentric circles start to appear around the blonde mutant as the temperature starts to rise in the room as he staggers, his abilities responding to his panic, or at least his belief that he's lost control.

    Which he's increasingly in danger of doing in his current mental state.

Karen Starr has posed:
    Power Girl's face suddenly shifts. She has a foot in every conversation. Often, just a toe. She can't hear people's thoughts, but for a woman who moves a million miles a moment, she can see the turning tide of the mood of the club. Kara Zor-L knows this chaos. She's seen it before on a scale unlike anything this Earth, this Universe, has ever seen.

    "Harley. Tony. Anyone else."

    She's suddenly a good bit more grim than she was a moment before. "Suit up or get out." Despite that she's normally quite friendly, Power Girl breaks off from the crowd she's with and starts floating, and off she is, homing in on the screams in the crowd- and then something takes her attention.

    Alex is turning red.

    She doesn't know the man- but very soon she's right -there-, standing in front of him. "Hold on. Everything's going to be okay. Hold on."

    There's some level of cooperation required- as Power Girl aims to take him by the shoulders. She has to get him out of here- and maybe he'll recognize that she can, and with any luck, that might even him out. She hasn't worked out what's going on yet.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Hal Jordan stares down the entity of fear itself. Parallax...

But then, there's a voice in his head. <<Hal Jordan of Earth...>>

Parallax roars an ugly roar, sending the levels of fear ever higher.

<<You have the power to overcome great fear>>

And then...Parallax is receeding? Sure, there's a toxin in Hal's body, but it's a FEAR toxin. And overcoming great fear is what Green Lanterns do for a living. Hal finds himself shaking his head, slowly gaining control of it. Not because he's fighting the toxin, but because he's beating the fear.

The Ring was told to protect Hal Jordan's identity, so it points out the nearest restroom. A place where he can deal with the fear in a more...direct way.

Hal runs off to the rest room. Parallax is still in front of him, snarling terror.

But once inside a stall, he shut the door behind him...

<<Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps.>> And there in the stall, Hal changes to Green Lantern...

And now the Ring notices. <<Toxin detected. Initiating purge.>>

But Parallax is still glaring, even if Hal is now glowing green in a bathroom stall. He can still SEE the entity of Fear. But now he's staring it down...Fear is NOT going to beat Hal Jordan. "...You will not win this!"

If any frightened people happen to be in the men's room, well, all they'll see is a glowing green stall and a guy shouting at nothing. If anyone who hasn't been affected is in there...well, somebody's got a really big green flashlight on their phone and is yelling at nothing in a bathroom stall.

Clea has posed:
People scream. They cry. The chaos on the dance floor is a bit better than murder, though Sophie Ellis-Bextor would disagree. Shrieking girls clawing at nothing really do kill the groove and the mood. Clea rests in the middle of it all, a polarity pulling her to the rapidly dissolving clumps of people frightened off by fire, by bogeymen, by the sudden appearance of their violent ex with the restraining order showing up on the doorstep.

Music builds in a whirlwind while terror seethes in the mind, carving channels through composure. It's a good time to cower or run, but she stays stock still and invisible -- unlike Tony being invincible. Look past me, that social invisibility says, until it's stripped back layer by layer in an onion-skin and her blank, downcast expression begins to crack. Curls of starlight and plasma dance between her fingertips. It coils on her hair, a dull suffuse glow like the lustre of a pearl. Really quite easy to overlook. Mostly. The holographic imagery should make that easy, but the light follows her where she goes, a ghostly nimbus.

Fire in her veins, fire at the core, eats away ruthlessly at the toxin. Until stripped of that last line of protection, in which case the smart move is taking the nearest door to... well, where /does/ that door lead? Probably somewhere bouncers wouldn't exactly appreciate? The roof? Sebastian's hidden closet of $5,000 shoes?

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony's eyes cannot help but roll when the orders are barked, raising a hand in a sort of mock salute. But the din around them makes it abundantly clear something is amiss, and when Natasha confirms it, he sobers up a little. Figuratively. He hadn't even had a chance to hit the bar yet.

"Right," Tony says curtly, regarding the crowd around them before focusing on Nat, "I don't have a suit, and I'm thinking we ought to leave this to the nuclear option with the windowfront costume, huh?"

Whatever it is, he doesn't want to be caught in it without the suit.

Carol Ferris has posed:
Imagined fears meet real fears when Hal literally runs off, there are people screaming, and all hell breaks loose. Alone. It's a few seconds as Carol tries to choke it all back, swallow it down. But it doesn't work, and one more person starts to cry.

Still, she tries to be quiet about it, her head ducking as she starts to push away from the bar, pushing through the crowd as she tries to find a door, a way out and away from the crowds themselves and the safety of actual aloneness instead of the crushing fear of dying alone, old and unloved.

Alex Summers has posed:
    The madness just...grows. The plasma around him bursting out, swirling over dancers as they catch flame like like matches, burning into flame, howling screams of agony assaulting his ears as he staggers...and flows straight into Emma as she goes up like a torch across from him, shrieking as her and dress become ash, a flaming skeleton toppling backwards into the floor. 'EMMMA!" Alex roars out, as the skeletons advance on him, staggering, crumbling, hands reaching out as the building explodes outwards, showing a shattered cityscape for miles...all burning as he staggers, trying desperately to hold in the powers.

    The burning dead part as a older teen steps out, flames wreathing a skinless skull, a knife in its right hand. In the other, it holds Emma's dead body by the back of the neck...but somehow, it still twitches and struggles. "Alexssss..." she whimpers. "What's the matter, Alex? I'm just finishing what I started...it's not even killing you, anymore, right?" The skull lets out a cackling giggle, horns sprouting from its temples. "After all..you're just a replacement for him, and I ALREADY KILLED HIM ONCE!

    And then the skeletons are grabbing hold of him, one grabbing him by the shoulders as he jerks. "NO, NO, GET AWAY FROM ME!" The teen with a knife glows from within, bones flaming with plasma energy as they leave a cloak of fire and heat around it as it advances on Alex, raising its smoking knife, demon-like wings spreading behind

    For everyone...there's no fire. No explosion. Only panic overtaking most of the crowd.

    Except the moment Karen grabs him, Alex reacts by lashing out blindly, his arm swinging around as glowing circles shoot out along his arm...followed by a *KAWOOOMPH* as a blazing lance of golden plasma blasts out from his hand, tearing through the floor in a shower of burning rubble as the floor shatters under the heat transfer, the pillar of destruction arcing across Karen as he tries to jerk away...then straight towards where Tony, Natalia, and Sebastian are standing.

    Already the circles are building around Alex, all over now as the horror and fear overwhelm him, destroying what control he has as the power builds around him, seeking outlet...

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Huh?" It is now Harley's turn to look completely perplexed, glancing back at the sound of the screaming, flailing dancers catching her attention, sure, but there was a moshpit... "You guys was fightin' befoah I go-t... heah...." She's already professin', which is classic Harley when she has, in fact, done something wrong.

The screams in the room only intensify and the reality of this not bein' status quo down heah the dungeon is becomin' abundently cleah... but it's not until Sabastian asks if this was //her doing// that she realizes that the tension she felt extend far beyond the conversation between Shaw and Stark... Turning around to stare at the dance floor, just as Power Girl is rushing off to help, she blinks a few times and shakes her head. "I didn't do this..." Hands up, shoulders rolling back. "Hold on, wait, I can help!"

She's seen Crane's fear Toxin before, the response looks a lot like that... so she's ready in the wings to rush and start trying to... what? Calm people down? Sure, maybe, tha's a good idea... Puttin' herself right out infront of Alex's bolt of death without even realizin' it.. "Oh tha's gonna smart..." She stops a serving tray and brings it up, hoping to all of the Gods, every known one, that it keeps the blast from singin' her hair off..

"Pretty corpse, pretty corpse"

Emma Frost has posed:
Emma can't handle it. She hears them all telling her she isn't good enough. Her father stands just off the dance floor, looking at her with disapproval. They are all looking at her with disapproval.

And then the roof comes off the club, and the glowing eyes of a Sentinel scan the crowd. "Scan: Mutant. Target: Acquired." Emma stands there, terrified. Nothing she can do to stop it, to avoid it... she can't even fight back the only way she can. It's a robot. Robots don't have minds to alter.

She lets out a shrill scream of terror, backing away from a monster no one else can see.

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
    'Natalie' nods curtly, and says "Agreed. If anybody asks I'm having a panic- *JESUS*" Natasha cries as she sees the blast coming and throws herself into Tony to knock him down and away from the blast, landing on top of him, having reacted too quickly to see Harley'd ludicrous act of heroism.
    Natasha sits up sharply, gives a frantic look around, and then stands, offering her hand to Tony. "Exit. Now."

Emma Frost has posed:
The tall, skinny man at the bar gets up as the chaos reigns, beginning to make his way towards the exit, cheerfully dodging screaming clubgoers with one hand in his pocket, fingering the mask he has tucked there. He seems amused by the chaos, intrigued... rather than the other folks scurrying for the exits who seem to be shoving out the doors in fear for their lives.

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Sebastian Shaw has barely made it three steps away from Tony and Natasha, giving no more care to their conversation or whereabouts, and then well...there's a great deal of shit all happening at once. But he must be relatively convinced of Harley's protestations of innocence, because at her valiant, comedic, and somewhat pathetic attempt to deflect the oncoming Plasma train, he moves...considerably faster than normal people usually move, and grabs her, turning her about and putting his back to the blast as it reaches them.

Harley can hear something that's somewhere between a hiss and a growl, but in either case sounds like someone experiencing a fair bit of pain, and can smell the shirt cooking right off Sebastian's back. Searing heat flares around them but...when it passes, they're both still breathing.

In hindsight Sebastian may very well wonder why he bothered later on, but at the very least she WAS a paying customer. That's service for you!

"If it wasn't you, then find out who it was. I'll make it worth your while." Shaw practically growls in Harley's ear before he releases her, standing to tear off the remains of his smoldering shirt and....damn, for an older guy he's hella ripped.

Carol Ferris has posed:
As hell breaks loose and people start to shove for the doors one of them catches Carol, and she gets shoved into a table before her knees hit the ground. Dignity be damned now, she starts to crawl beneath the table to try and get out of the way of others.

Added bonus, maybe no one'll notice that she's crying under a table in a club?

Harley Quinn has posed:
Harley saw him, that skinny guy ovah by the bar... Ducked behind a freakin' serving tray, which was silly and she knows it, "What is dos!" She'd recognize tha' cantanerous ol' loon anywhere!

Thankfully, for her anyways, Sebastian is there to take the heat blast and she's slithering out of his arms almost as soon as he's got his back to it.. "Don'cha worry Mr. Burns~" Cus he's on fiah, "~I know who done this.."

The tray she was going to use as a shield is held in her hand as she skips, arms swinging at her sides a few feet, "Move, excus't me.." Pushing screaming people from her path... until she's got a clear view of his back... The circular flat surface is spun in her palm, reversed grip, and hurled like a diskus right at the back of Jonnathan Cranes' Melon. "Hey, Dick Bird! Get yer bitch ass back tah Gotham... There's only enough room foah ONE Psychopath in' New Yoak, an' //yer lookin' at'er// bustah brown.."

Some one jostles her, bumping against her shoulder.. she turns sharply, grabs a beer bottle and smashes it over said persons head, then runs after Crane, parkour pro-level, gymnastics badassery full of Ivy juice strength'n a promise of worth yer while from tha ownah of the joint. "Imma get'cha Crane... Imma get'cha!"

Hal Jordan has posed:
<<Toxin Purge Complete>>

The door to the stall bursts open, and the Green Lantern flies out into the crowd...and over the crowd. There's a problem though. The Ring can't purge other people of toxins. Just the wearer. Hovering over the crowed, forcefield and all...he decides to put a giant green symbol on the roof of the club. It's a construct, of course, and not a permanent alteration. But now on the roof is a giant green construct of the Lantern Symbol of Willpower. Maybe he can inspire people to fight their fear the way he has?

Then...he actually flies over to Power Girl, who seems to be fine. Naturally. Toxins tend to bounce off Kryptonians. "Power Girl, it's a toxin. It causes fear, lots of it. Not Sinestro though. He isn't here."

Tony Stark has posed:
"Every time someone tries to try and kill me, you end up sitting on top of me," Tony points out as he takes Nat's offered hand, "Are you sure you're not the mastermind behind all these attacks? I mean, you just have to ask. Points for theatrics, though."

Despite the chaos and destruction - including the incredible lance of energy that almost incinerated him - Tony maintains that flippant air of cool. It wouldn't do to be any other way, of course. As they move to the door, he glances in Sebastian's to loudly point out the fact that he's now shirtless.


Never mind that strange display of ... what is it? Absorbing ability? Strange. Definitely something to look up later when they're not in a club full of crazed people with powers.

"Going now," he insists at Natasha, making a quick rush for the exit on her arm.

Emma Frost has posed:
Dr. Crane just happens to be jostled by a fleeing clubgoer, which saves him from being beaned in his skinny melon by a serving tray. He turns, hearing Harley's yell, and pulls out his mask, slapping it on his face. "Dr. Quinzel, I thought you might offer me the professional courtesy--" he begins, pulling a fist sized device from his other pocket...

Karen Starr has posed:
    Power Girl gets it now. By the time she took the mantle back home, it was in the midst of Batman's last great wrangle of his own rogues' gallery. She didn't get to see the fear toxin in action too often, but the timeline of this universe, and the reactions these people are having, they fit. Ignorance of reality in favor of what seem to be hallucinations.

    As she's nearing the person she'd thought to help moments before, his hand sweeps across her. Bracing herself, Power Girl holds up one hand to keep the light of the plasma out of her eyes- it flows across her like water, and seems to, at this stage, do just about as much harm.

    However, others aren't so lucky- and if it weren't for Shaw, they might be out one Harley, who in that moment convinced Power Girl of two things. First, that she really, truly, honestly, is -trying-. Second, that she's -really- very, *very* bad at it. Can't focus on that now.

    Instead, she lurches forward, snap-closing the distance between herself and Havok in the space of a moment. One of her hands is around his wrist. The other, his opposite bicep.

    "Figureditoutit'soneofBatman'sberightbackSorryShaw" And then, up. She's flying -up-, and doing so quite quickly. It's plausible she might dislocate the shoulder of the arm she's only got the wrist of when she makes the first turn, and gets perhaps a litle more likely when she makes the second- because she goes from 0 to 60 very quickly. The lurching turns are navigation- up above the crowd, backwards over it and out the door, and then up again finally to start booking it skyward.

    "Hold on! For just a little longer hold on!" She can take it. The buildings, the people, they can't. She just hopes she can get enough altitude.

Harley Quinn has posed:
"Ya jus' screw't up my chance ta dance wit Peej, ya big skinny fear mongerin' ASSHOLE.." Quinn is livid, truly so, but now she knows who the target is and while he's got a //device// she's got.. no fear. And she's immune to his toxins, which certainly helps her decision making process!

"Ya know how long I been waitin' fer tha'? HUH!?" Here she comes, sliding over the top of a table until her weight on one side lifts it on the other for her hands to grab hold of, bending as she lands to hurl the whole furnishing right at him. "I been pullin' out ALL mah flirt game... an' ya come in heah, spookie fingerin' everybody..." She's not done yet folks. Hold ontah yah knickers.

Out of her crouch throw, she jumps forward into a spring flip, knees planting right into a big party-goers back, SHOVING OFF with her feet to push him at Crane too... He may have weapons, an' explosives, an' all kinds of cool toys that she can't fit in her pocketless, mini skirt, but she's got people...

And anger.

And | | much vengence. "Now I gotta wait fer the //next// pahtey? ARE YOU FUCKIN' KIDDIN' ME?!" A beer bottle, a shot glass, someones discarded high heel... All of it is being thrown at Crane with the kind of ya shouldn't have done that, now ya done fuck't up force that only Pamela Isley's medicinial injections of super serum can muster in a woman of her size.

"Imma throttle ya, Imma beat ya... An' then Imma drag ya to the toilets an' give ya a swirly..."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Sebastian Shaw, grossly shirtless, carefully restrains himself as he moves through the panicking crowd, though not so much that he hesitates to shove a few people out of his way if he must...nothing that will cause any real damage, but he's a a busy man with many important things to do. Like trying to manage a riot. Thankfully no one in the control booth has been drinking, as the holographic system shifts to a big green (hey, it matches Hal's symbol!) sign that basically reads "REMAIN CALM AND MOVE IN AN ORDERLY FASHION TOWARDS THE EXITS" with arrows directing people towards said exits...which is actually marginally useful for those that haven't been drinking. Which isn't many, but still. Also the lights come on and...wew, you know how they say never turn the lights all the way on in a club? The janitorial team here must make a mint, because it was clean at the start of the night, but it sure ain't now, and that's not even counting the mess from spilled drink, probably a little blood, broken glasses, etc...etc...

However, as Sebastian himself is moving across the floor he spots a familiar figure in white, head jerking around to focus on her.


He drops down in a crouch next to her, "Emma, it's not real. I need you to focus. Whatever this is, you are stronger...better than it is. Listen to me...Calm. Be calm." He places one hand on her shoulder, trying to steady her. If she touches his mind he...actually IS calm. Furious, but calm. They're insured, after all.

Alex Summers has posed:
    From Alex's perspective, the burning monster with the knife lunges at him, narrowing missing, then grabs hold of him with its claws, before shooting past the ruined walls, carrying him up into the air. Where he can see it all...the crater where the club was, the crumbling walls. The flames around the blast radius. All the people he must have killed....

    Through it all, the burning skull that somehow retains a few scraps of blonde hair floats above the monster's shoulder "Should have died instead of him....just a replacement...worthless...I just pitied you..." Emma's voice hisses at him from its cracked and blackened jawbone as he struggles helplessly. "No! I didn't want to! I didn't want to!"

    Karen's voice is audible though...enough that he twitches. "I can't...it's..it's too much..." crackling golden fissures start to run down his arms, over his chest, like he's burning out from inside, as the thing that holds him pulls him close. "This is what you are...murderer.." the distorted face in in the flames hisses at the man, his eyes wide as it raises the knife. "N-no...I won't...I didn't want to..." he breathes out. "I won't...not...again..."

    He struggles, trying to fight it as Power Girl goes up...and up....

    And then the monstrous demon drives the knife through his heart as he jerks, letting out a shout of agony, before a small golden star blooms overhead as he explodes with plasma energy in all directions, the sudden heat transfer filling the air with a *WHUMPH* of ignition as the displaced air rattles the windows below.

    Leaving Alex, his clothing is tatters, panting as he hangs in Karen's grip. "I didn't...want...sorry...' he manages, shuddering, before he passes out from the physical shock.

Hal Jordan has posed:
Green Lantern sees that, first, Power Girl took off with the really dangerous guy who was infected. That spares him the trouble of trying to deal with that. Then there's the whole thing where the manager of the place appears to be trying to get everyone to leave in an orderly fashion.

Green Lantern can help with that, creating walls where people have to follow green corridors with green arrows towards the exits. At least this prevents people from hurting eachother easily. Those constructs are very solid.

Emma Frost has posed:
Crane backs up, the swirling crowd around him that are affected by his toxin not reacting well to his mask... suddenly a monster has appeared in their midst. More screams now, though people are being directed by sudden appearances of green "walls".

One of those walls pops up between him and Harley. Crane smiles behind his mask, his thumb flipping the pin on the grenade of fear toxin in his hand. He casually rolls it down the makeshift corridor, then turns, merrily making his way down the green tinged hallway and out the large wooden doors of the club.

Karen Starr has posed:
    The difference between this plasma and sun plasma is that this plasma doesn't fuel Power Girl, which means that the reactive suit- the one that essentially piggybacks on her invincibility to be- more or less- indestructible is not currently so, despite its wearer being just as invulnerable as normal.

    Karen is still taking them higher when Alex explodes.r
    Power Girl is making sure that his limbs are at least pointed at her, and her close proximity means that she's taking the majority of the blast, especially as she twists to place herself between Alex exploding and the very sensitive building still partially behind them. The hear sears at her flesh, this is like a dam bursting- but, luckily, Alex had sheard off much of his potential bite.

    The concussion wave hits her in the stomach, ribs, chest- basically everywhere, and if Alex remembers any of this, it might be impressive that she not only held on, but that she didn't lose consciousness. Sure, there's pain, but as the heat of the plasma eruption rolls over her, melting and tearing away at the perfect ivory of her costume, pulling it apart and exposing an abdomen you could do your laundry on with so much of the energy pointed at her core, that she doesn't even look burnt is a signifer.

    Alex goes lifeless in her hands, unconscious, to sleep off the fear toxin. She exhales. "Fuck." Tucking the man under her arm, she goes zooming back towards the door she left out of, seeking to place the no longer -quite- as dangerous mutant next to the escape and then get back inside, to help with the evacuation.

Harley Quinn has posed:
Ugh... "Dammit! Who put up the snot wall?!" Harley shouts, round off kicking the grenade towards the bar to bounce it back behind it where the explosion wont do quite as much //human// damage, but... ya know.. collateral.. there weren't nothin' in their verbal contract about protectin' the club only gettin' the person who done this.

It's important that Sebastian remembahs that.

Harley slides beneath the barrier and rolls off into a charge after him, "Yer' bein' a real shit head, Crane.. I see why nobody invites ya ta bingo night at Arkham.. Yer like tha' weirdo kid whose always got a dead rabbit in their backpack for NO DAMN REASON!"

Quinn is pretty fast when she's not having to dodge terrified people, but she doesn't have a difficult path to follow.. what with all them scared souls afeared of that creeper mask Crane's runnin' around in. "This don't end well for ya... Imma definitely gonna..." Turning in a slow circle, "Where'd ya go ya floppy faced freak job..." Oh sweat jesus! "AH ha!" Bounding off in the direction of the terrified scream, rounding the corner with her arm out in Jonnathans path catching him right across the chest as he checks behind himself for her...

"Now..." She grabs hold to the scruff of his shirt, and drags him by said scruff, hopefully kickin' an' screamin', back towards the club... and the bathroom... "About tha' swirly... STOP STRUGGLIN! Ya brought this on yerself... ya coulda wait't til aftah mah dance, but ///nooooooo///..."

Kicking the door to the bathrooms open with a big platform boot, tugging open a stall with him in tow and bodily ducking his head into the toilet bowl, flushing it with her foot. "THEEEEEREE'S JOHNNY..."

Sebastian Shaw has posed:
Seeing that Emma is not responding to him in virtually any way, Sebastian promptly scoops her up in his arms, and carries her off towards a discreet exit in the back that is NOT marked by any of the big green holographic arrows, behind the bar. They both disappear from sight, headed to the small infirmary on the Eighth floor. There will be a great deal of fallout to deal with in the next hours and days, but well...at least Sebastian won't have to sleep tonight with the charge he's built up. Naturally, a freshly cleaned and pressed shirt is already waiting in the infirmary when he arrives, courtesy of the ever-efficient Tessa. But he's not leaving Emma's side until there's some indication of her recovery or lack thereof.

Emma Frost has posed:
Crane gurgles under the toilet water as his masked head is dunked and swirled. This is probably not going to be a great evening for him.

Ambulances and police arrive, pushing through the throng as first-responders start seeing to club goers who are obviously afflicted by the poison.

...at least the club is insured.