954/An Ice Cold Knockout

An Ice Cold Knockout
Date of Scene:	03 April 2020
Location:	East Side
Synopsis:	Heather drives off some Russian thugs, with minor help from Nikolas. The two adjourn to get hot dogs and discuss what it means to have power and what that means for heroes.
Cast of Characters:	Nikolas Kamarov, Heather Danielson

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Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Nikolas is standing in New York.

    This is obvious, of course. Plenty of people stand in New York. Plenty of people visit it from all over the world. Plenty of people from his own motherland of Russia stand here, in fact.

    But the fact he's here is just...dark humor at its finest, Nikolas decides. Thirty years ago, when he was still a boy, he dreamed of standing here, of seeing the lights of New York, so far from the rural countryside of Siberia. When he represented his country as a gymnast in the Olympics, he still remembers when he decided he would see it one day...when he saw through the lies and hypocrisy of his country and his leaders.

    But that boy is gone. The Soviets are officially gone, though far too many remain, some of which still serve above him.

    And now he looks at it after decades of violence and war...and still finds it somewhat uplifting to be here, in a strange sense. Even though he's more a prisoner...or enslaved, perhaps...than he was as a boy.

    Hope is a cruel bitch, really, to keep rising up in his heart, after all this.

    He's managed to slip away from the Russian Embassy at least, on the grounds of needing to know the area for future operations. Dressed fairly nondescript, in fact...apair of slacks, a button-up white shirt, and a trenchcoat against the spring chill as he wanders down the street, his white hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a good day or so of scruff on his jaw.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Earbuds in, music speaking to her soul... Heather Danielson wanders the sidewalks of New York City. She has a tall cup of Mocha Latte in one hand that she is sipping from now and then. She just left Starbucks a few minutes ago after all. But she's not so much walking as dancing her way along the city sidewalks.
    Her eyes are half-lidded, open just enough to enable her to avoid bumping into folks up ahead of her. Her hips, legs, arms, and even her torso move in a way that is -not- analogous to normal walking motions. Of course, this puts many eyes on her. Some due to who she is. Some due to how she looks. And others because they think someone who looks and moves like she does... is begging to be taken advantage of. The fact that she is far more than she seems doesn't seem to register to them all.
    The fact that she came out in public with powers doesn't register to most either. I mean seriously. When you look at a teenaged blonde girl who has the sort of form that begs photographers to follow her around.. who thinks... oh, I wonder if that's the girl who can bench press a Buick? Most people just think. Blonde... ditz. Or... hot girl. Let me go make an ass of myself trying to talk to her.
    But either way, she has an idealistic outlook on the world, even in New York City. Her hotel is a few blocks away, and she prefers to walk than take a taxi. So there you have it... Midwest girl in the Big City, ripe for trouble.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Given that it's the East Side, with so many foreign embassies, media companies, and the U.N. itself right down the way, one would think it would be relatively safe for a pretty woman to make her way home unmolested.

    Then again, there's always the one asshole who is either so arrogant, so drunk, or so stupid they just /have/ to make trouble.

    Nikolas being male, not blind, and not highly distracted, of course, notices her, as do many others, an appreciative look in his eyes, though he doesn't take it beyond that. obviously a woman who manages to look beautiful without feeling she needs to be hanging out of her outfit to do it, and the easy confidence she exudes as she weaves through the evening crowds certainly shows.

    It's the quartet of tipty young men that come out of one of the higher end clubs (or rather, who are ushered out by a trio of bouncers) that are the issue. Apparently they decided the party would start early. Very early, and they're already in a mood, several choice insults in Russian being thrown back after the Bouncers and threats before they start stumbling down the road with the arrogant certainty of people who just assume everyone will get out of their way. As such, they're on a collision course for Heather, and, like the pack of predators they are, they promptly change course upon seeing a young woman out alone. "Hey, baby, you looking so fiiiine...maybe you come with us, we're heading to a better club, eh?" the apparently leader says, a definite Russian accent audible.

    He even has the gold chain showing at the top of his partially unbuttoned club shirt.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Of course, it is almost tailor made for Heather to upset them more than they ever expected. She has earbuds in and doesn't hear their comments at first.
    But it's difficult to ignore having four men placing themselves directly in her path. She reaches easy conversational distance and shows that she didn't hear a word they said when she reaches up and plucks one earbud from an ear while smiling and saying, "Excuse me. May I get by?" politely to 'Gold Chain'.
    I mean sure, her back is mostly bare, but the halter top covers her entirely up the front. So she's showing off but not...showing off as it were.
    But she is still smiling politely as she speaks. The fact that she shows no fear, or anything beyond just enjoying herself might irritate these toughs, or it might be like flashing sunlight on a fishing lure to draw them in like the scent of prey for a wolf.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
5R    It is, unfortunately, more the latter, and Heather is a particularly shiny lure for a bunch of young toughs who believe they're both entitled to what they see and drunk enough that the little voice that tells them it isn't a good idea isn't really that audible at the moment, that particular angel on their shoulder having been left passed out in the bar they just left.

    But she hasn't said no yet...though they crowd of young men immediately surrounds Heather to prevent her from moving on. "Hey, baby, I said, you're too beautfiul to be going to work, why don't you come with us, have some fun at the club, huh? You'll have a great time!"

    Nikolas tilts his head. The shouting in Russian already attracted his attention earlier...the sight of the group surrounding Heather confirms that this will be a thing. Meh.

    He scowls a bit to himself. He has not been told specifically to not /do/ anything. Only that he should avoid being too public for the moment, to keep his cover as simply a military attache attached to the Russian embassy.

    That said...he's already altering course, the broad-shouldered man starting to walk up from behind the boys, his walk quickened but not hurried quite yet, as blue eyes linger on Heather's face for a moment. Well. She's not afraid. Yet, anyway. From the look of it, not armed either though. He thought this was America, where every coed carries a rape whistle and pepper spray.

    Probably more bullshit from the propaganda mill, he suspects.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Well, since Heather's not in college. She never got that far. Having been recruited in high school to start modeling, and making it onto the pages of some of the biggest magazines. Some people would only recognize her if she was in a bikini though.
    The pleasant smile on her face changes just a bit. It's subtle, but it's become anticipatory... a trained solder might see the transition from curious and friendly to... yes, come closer.. in -her- blue eyes.
    "Really?!" she asks in a voice that is all fake enthusiasm, but not the sort of tone a drunk fucktard might recognize. "A good time?!" she asks. "Oh, I can't wait! But I should warn you... a good time for me might not exactly be fun for you!" she says as she reaches a hand up and runs her palm down the leader's chest as if admiring his physique.
    When the big guy approaches from behind the toughs, she isn't sure if he's with them or not. She peers over the leader's shoulder and her eyes go from amused to calculating... and she gets her hand down to Gold Chain's waist.. .where she grips the belt and fasteners to the front of his bluejeans and clenches her fist there... lifting the guy off the ground by the front of his pants. This likely makes things entirely too tight on his crotch... frontal wedgie much? But his feet come off the ground an inch or two and she stage-whispers into his ear, "Is this what you had in mind?"

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    He has hard eyes, that man. Icy blue and striking, but they are not casual eyes, or the eyes of a wide-eyed innocent. From his grim expression, it does seem he's unhappy with the boys in question.

    Chains has a definite grin or approval as Heather reaches down, right up to the point where instead of a stroke, her fingers curl to grab and lift. At that point, he lets out a high-pitched yelp as he's suddenly in the air, struggling as he grabs with both hands to Heather's driven by....well, a need to protect sensitive bits.

    It takes the other boys a moment to realize what's happening as their leader lets a strangled swear that's probably uncomplimentary about Heather herself as they freeze. The tables turned on them as they're not quite sure to do.

    Save for one of the more drunk ones, who reflexively reaches under his jacket and starts to draw a pistol...until a hard hand comes down ontop of the hand drawing, driving the gun firmly back down into the holster as a muscular arm slides companionably around his neck from behind.

    If it happens to be choking just a bit, well, all friends here!

    <<Your mothers would be ashamed of you.>> the big man rumbles, a quiet menace in his voice. <<Your bratok, on the other hand, will cut off your balls if you pull a gun here, eh?>> He gives the boy a smooth but firm smack to the back of his head, those eyes flicking over to Heather, a pale brow rising wordlessly as he realizes what Heather is doing. "I think this is more woman than you want to handle...or at least you are definitely man enough for her to handle. Or manhandle." he adds in a slightly accented voice.

    Then he waits. He's a bit curious what Heather will do next, and preventing firearms from being involved means the ball is back in her court.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    The irony is.. when firearms -do- get involved, Heather can be more intimidating. Nothing is quite as intimidating as being shot and ignoring it. But when Heather notices the gun getting forcibly put away, she shrugs her shoulders and just headbutts Chains unconscious before dropping him to the ground.
    She turns and faces the others, arms folding under her bustline as she asks, "Anyone else got a suggestion for what I might be good for?"

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    This..is definitely not how it's supposed to go! The cute blonde does not pick up your leader and headbutt them out like it's a casual thing! Even if it draws a suprised but appreciative snort from Nikolas. Very Russian way for a girl to say no, he can't help but feel.

    Of course, these boys aren't the brightest to begin with...and for the biggest of them, apparently he doesn't know how to handle a woman knocking a friend cold save by taking a swing at her, with a snarled insult on his lips as he does. He's on the opposite side of the boy that is already being held in place by Nik, so he's not in a position to step forward...though he tenses as the younger man lunges at her.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Okay, so it's not like Heather is an expert fighter. She just grew up in the Midwest and took self defense classes because her father insisted that she do so. But a drunk and terrified mobster is not difficult to anticipate.
    As the man begins his lunge, Heather sighs and reaches up a hand to catch the man's fist, and without much effort, she squeezes to bend the bones... she doesn't go so far as to crush the fist. She wants to but.. you know, image.
    Her baby blues traverse to the big guy who has spoken both English and Russian. "Can you translate for me?" she asks him. "Please inform him... in case he did not realize it, that he is a drunk idiot who has made poor life choices." That said.. she lifts a foot and stomps down on the guy's foot. This time she -does- hit hard enough to break bones. Oh, and she lets go of the fist as she does that.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    The boy's eyes practically bug out in disbelief as his fist is not just dodges, but caught. And held as he strains, blinking, as Nikolas dutifully translates. <<She says you are a fucking idiot who makes stupid life choices.>> He looks almost entertained now as the boy yowls in pain, stumbling back as his foot snaps, staggering and falling over as he loses his balance. Nikolas adds in English. "And now, you go home, da? Think about poor decisions in life." He gives the boy he's been holding a firm shove after the others as he stumbles forwards, the other boys all wideyed as they stare at Heather. One mutters. <<Mutant bitch...>> NIkolas promptly says. "Do you want me to translate that so she breaks your nose too?" Very conversationally. The boy jerks, then the ones remaining on their feet help up their fearless leader, two of them carrying him between them, the other helping their friend with the broken foot lean on him as they start hobbling away. Getting to a safe distance before one shouts something back.

    Nikolas doesn't bother to translate it, though the tone suggests it was not complimentary. "Good headbutt." he comments. "Apologies on behalf of Russia for idiots."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Just standing there staring them down and daring them to speak English, Heather shrugs her shoulders. She doesn't need a translation to know it was insulting. She might have corrected their assumption of her being a mutant if she knew that's what they said.
    But when they are gone, she goes back to her happy and truly amused smile. "Oh, trust me, Russia doesn't have a monopoly on stupid. You should've seen the boys where I grew up."
    She holds a hand out and said, "I'm Heather. And the headbutt just felt appropriate. It's not my usual style."

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    "Still, well executed." the man says with a professional air of approval, then takes the offers hand. Strong grip, not overpowering. "Nikolas. And true," he agrees, "Russia does not have a monopoly on young toughs wanting to make themselves look big. Still, I am sorry they interrupted your walk. Though obviously," he adds dryly. "You were not in real danger, as I first assumed." He pauses. "Mm, were you headed to work, or home?" he wonders.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Snorting, Heather grins and shrugs her shoulders, "Neither. Home is a few hundred miles away to be honest. I was in town for a charity function in two days. I was just returning to my suite at the Saint Regis Hotel downtown." she says with a gesture in that direction.
    "But no, I was not in any danger... though if I had to choose, I'd rather -I- get interrupted than someone who can't take it."

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    "Very self-sacrificing of you." Nikolas comments thoughfully, looking Heather over. It's definitely not a leer...more of a professional assessment now of how she stands and moves, the confidence in her current stance. "Would that be the pro-mutant gala?" he wonders curiously. "I know it is happening soon, but not much about it other than the basics. I expect it will draw the usual protestors and supporters."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Shaking her head, Heather chuckles, "No, it's a museum thing to raise money for breast cancer." But she shakes her head, "Ironically, us non-mutants don't generally get asked to attend pro mutant functions. You'd think the whole idea would be to show that it doesn't matter how you got your abilities, so long as you use them for the right reason. I should look into attending that gala too." she adds as an afterthought.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    "Ah. Pink ribbons, da?" Nikolas notes. He's not entirely up on the movement, but he's at least aware of the pink ribbons people wear with it. People have so many different causes and movements here. "Sorry for assuming. You are not born with powers, then?" he wonders. "I apologize if this is personal, I am, ah, curious." he admits after a moment "And I cannot help but agree...where your abilities come from should not matter....but mutants are hated and feared more than they should be, I think, because it comes as a suprise when their abilities manifest."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "And it doesn't come as a surprise when you get jabbed with an unknown cocktail of super soldier serums that apparently never worked, but -combined- in an unspecified amount make you... different?" asks Heather. She shakes her head, "Short sighted idiots." she adds.
    But she takes a breath, "Thank you for your intervention, the fact that I was in no danger did not make it less noble that you helped a perceived damsel in distress." she adds as her smile turns into an urchin grin.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Nikolas lets out a rumbling chuckle. "Forgive, I have forgotten my fedora to tip at home." he says amusedly. "Happy to have, ah...what is the word? De-escalated the situation." He looks curious at the mention of a super soldier serum, however. "Ah, well...I think there is fear. The young person growing up down the street, in your child's school, the fact they can one day suddenly grow scales, or super strength, or walk through walls, this is frightening because you cannot expect it. Not everyone is good at dealing with such change without becoming defensive."

    He shrugs broad shoulders again. "These are reasons I am out exploring. Things are different where I am from, how mutants and others are treated. It is strange to see people with such powers showing them. Or wearing fantastic costumes and saving the day here."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "Well, to answer your points in reverse order..." begins Heather as she removes her other earbud and tucks it away with the first in a pocket. "The costumes are more for the people. You see someone in a cape come to help you, you know they are there to help. Think of it as a uniform that the people recognize as that of a friendly. A bystander picking up a bus scares the average bystander, but a big S on the chest makes them feel safe."
    She shrugs and adds, "As for the mutant thing, I think people secretly wish -they- were mutants, and when it turns out someone else is and they are not.. they get jealous." A pause before she smirks, "Well, I bet -some- are like that at least."

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    "Jealousy drives hatred, da." Nikolas agrees in his resonant voice. "But these supervillains here wear the costumes as well, to intimidate those weaker than them and to make a name for themselves? Is this why some seem to hate costumed heroes as well?" He furrows his brow. "I have heard this man...J. Jonah Jamison? He is very angry at the Spider-Man." He hehs. "I would say obsessed, as often as he seems to blame everything and anything on him..."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Laughing softly, Heather shrugs. She doesn't know much about Jameson. She -does- know that the guy can't shut up about Spider-Man, but doesn't really have an issue with anyone else it seems.
    "It is human nature, to fear the unknown. If it is not something that is part of the way you expect life to go, then it is the enemy to be hated and feared. Human nature I suppose. As for the villains, yes... they do -also- dress up in colorful ways. Maybe because they are emulating the heroes. Or visa versa. I don't know anymore. I'm no expert. Just a kid who gets paid to show off."

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Nikolas ponders that curiously. "...this is a talk I would be interested in continuing, if you had the time, honestly. I am still getting used to things here." he admits. "But I would not want to presume if you are on your way elsewhere. If not..perhaps you wouldn't mind some conversation and a meal?" He raises a brow. "So many choices here, I'm not sure what is worthwhile for food and what is simply different from what I know."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "What a roundabout way of asking a girl out. I'll give you an A for the effort, absolutely." offers Heather, truly amused and entertained.
    "Besides, you know my weakness.. food, and lots of it. So yes, let's go grab a bite. Do you prefer something like a formal sit down, or would a hot dog cart be enough? I could do either, or even both." she suggests as she turns to start heading down the sidewalk, leading with confidence.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Nikolas says bemusedly. "That was not my intention, though I would not mind spending time with a woman who can knock a man out in a single headbutt." There's a faint twinkle in his eyes that comes with the dry comment. "Something informal is fine, if you know a good, ah, hot dog cart nearby? Or these food trucks you seem to have everywhere here." He falls into step besides Heather as they walk.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "If there's one thing I'm good at aside from wearing bathing suits, it's finding good food at a moment's notice. The one drawback to my strength and healing powers... I need to eat, -constantly-. I burn calories like it was my job." admits Heather, "That -does- help keep me fit and trim despite eating something like twenty thousand calories a day." she offers as she turns a corner and says, "Ah, there's Sid. He has the best hot dogs in town." she says with a gesture one block up to a cart.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    "I'm familiar with the problem." Nikolas says, nodding at the explanation. "I have met others who have physical abilities that requires a great deal of calories to work." He looks towards the cart in question thoughfully "Is there a New York style of hot dog that is different from elsewhere? I know you have, ah, bratwurst here, though of different quality."

    His lips twitch as he glances over to Heather. "Da, I would imagine makes it easier to do diets to fit in swimsuits when needed. Is it a danger, if you don't eat enough?"

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "Well, New York style is more what you put -on- the hot dog. I'm not a big fan of onions myself but others swear by'em." suggests Heather. "But if I'm hungry enough, I'd likely eat rocks."
    Heather says that as she turns around and walks backwards for a few paces before she grins and shrugs, turning back around, "I'd burn up myself, lose muscle mass, likely die after a couple weeks."

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Nikolas nods a bit, a faint bit of humor entering his eyes again. "Other women must hate you, able to eat whatever you want and looking as you do." He rummages in an inner pocket, taking out a wallet. "Is my treat, also. I do not mind onions, also." He pauses by the cart, letting Heather order as he observes. "With or without hot sauce?" he does ask. "Or is that tacos?"

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "For some folks, hot sauce is like cheese... they put that shit on everything." says Heather with a grin. "For me? I avoid it because it covers up the other less strong flavors." To Sid she turns to face him and offers a smile.
    "Ah. Ms. Danielson. The usual?" he asks, to which she nods and he lays out four buns, four hot dogs, and starting with mustard and some relish. "And for the gentleman?" he asks, turning your way.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Nikolas considers. "I will have one like hers, and one of these Chicago dogs." he decides after a moment, paying for the food, then waiting to acquire his own dogs which he takes over with Heather to the side. "I find hot sauce is what you put on things you don't want to taste, yes. Would rather have flavor. This is a thing, flavor country?" he wonders, before trying the New York style dog first, munching thoughfullly. "Mmm...is good stuff...." he agrees after a moment.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Scarfing down her first dog in just a few bites, Heather closes her eyes and relishes the feel (pun intended. Relish. hah!) of getting food in her tummy. A tummy that is semi-exposed. What? It's called style! At least she has a six pack that shows now and then.
    Either way, she nods her head as she starts on dog number two. "Flavor is the best, yah." she admits.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Nikolas grunts a bit. "Do not know if this flavor is the best, but....it's very good. It's strange, outside of America, hot dogs are looked on with a bit of horror for what goes into them, but this is very tasty." He hehs. "Probably because it's bad for you." He mmms "So, you are...ah, a model, then?"

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Nodding her head, Heather shrugs, "Yep. Hard to say no when they throw money at me. Plus, I happen to -like- dressing up. Or down as the case may be. Plus, Sports Illustrated called and I had to answer."
    She shakes her head, "Turns out, having powers makes me something of a spokeswoman for the industry, and if I can use that to help folks, then why not?"

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    "If you have power, it is your responsibility to use it." Nikolas murmurs, pausing to munch down the first hot dog with evident relish. Even though that's really on the Chicago dog. He raises a brow. "How does one end up injected with a super soldier forumla outside of a government run experiment?"

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "Well, that's what I was told. Apparently, there was a whole chase going on. Some Octopus agent... or no, Hydra I guess. Was transporting stolen failed experiments to use them as a basis for research in the future. Someone from SHIELD was chasin' the guy. I had no idea what was going on, so when a car wrecked outside the coffee shop I was at, I ran to try to help out. I dragged the driver out before the car caught fire. But when I finished dragging him out, I had like seven syringes stuck into my arm. And likely more that had already fallen out. I didn't feel it in all of the adrenaline. But some partially injected, some fully depressed. I have no idea which and how much of them I got but.." she shrugs, "Now I heal faster than I can be hurt, for the most part, and I can lift a bus."
    She pauses to gobble down on another dog.... speaking between bites, "And yes, every other woman I meet hates me for being able to gorge and still keeping my figure."

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Nikolas blinks a bit at that. "...well. Cannot expect Hydra to practice medical safety." he muses deadpan. "You are most lucky then, that there were no worse side effects than an increased appetite." He hehs. "Though I would not call it gorging whe it is how much you need to eat. Nothing wrong with a woman with appetite." He frowns a bit. "Though I think that may be because they are supposed to be excellent cooks in such cases, and I do not know if you are. Sampling. Eh." He shrugs slightly, smiling faintly. "Perhaps there was some greater purpose to it though, that a woman willing to go into an accident and pull someone out to save them should be the one who is blessed with such power."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Shaking her head, Heather snorts and -almost- has mustard come out. As it stands, she gets some in her sinuses. "Oh ow. You know.. healing doesn't help with this." she mutters as she grabs a napkin to .. well, blow her nose with.
    But then she shakes her head, "I can burn water my friend." she admits before shaking her head once more. "No, there's no such thing as a greater purpose. Things happen and we learn to adapt and move forward. We don't need to make up stories to explain them.. we can just say, "I have no idea."

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    Nikolas chuckles, watching ot make sure Heather is alright. "Better than hot sauce." He nods slightly at her comment, trying his second dog as he considers, before saying. "Da. Humans, we make our own purposes we give value to, eh? What we choose to say is good or bad, right or wrong. Mercy, justice, these things exist because we say they are so."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "And yet, it can't be wrong to help each other when we are in need. We don't need some divine power telling us what is right and wrong. Why can't something just -be- good or not?" asks Heather... her tone sounding like she's had this debate a LOT with people.
    In fact, she sighs and shakes her head, "Sorry. I'm just getting my side set up like I do with Mom." she admits.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
5R    Nikolas mmms, frowning as he finishes off his dog. "Da. This is why having power is important. If you have no power...you don't get to choose when to help. You have to be told when you can." he rumbles quietly, idly wiping his fingers off with a napkin, then hehs. "Do not apologize for having convictions. Too few people do."

Heather Danielson has posed:
    "That's where you're wrong. Having power isn't required to be a good person or to help. You know where I learned what being a hero means?" A brief pause and Heather says, "My daddy's a firefighter. No powers. Just guts. He helps people every day. He does it because he couldn't imagine a life where he does anything else. Tell me that having powers is required to be a hero and I'll laugh in your face." she states, drawing herself up to her full five nine. Which is tall for a female these days. But that said, she gobbles down her last dog... destroying her illusion of somberness.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    NIkolas watches, tilting his head. "...fair." he answers finally. "Heroes can be many people, powered or not. But power is often what lets you act, as opposed to having to watch. Or, to die trying futilely to stop someone who is stronger. This is why the police let the heroes in costumes fight the villains in costumes, I think. A firefighter can save a child from a burning building; but it is harder to save a building from someone who sets it on fire with a thought." He glances at the diver's watch on his wrist, a thick, heavy thing that looks like it could survive a tank shell, then grunts. "Thank you, for the company, and the talk. I would stay longer, but I am due back shortly."

    He pauses in thought, then rummages in his jacket, before pulling out a crumpled rectangle of a card, handing it to Heather. "Perhaps we meet to talk again...with less thugs involved, hmm?

    The card is very simple. A phone number and email, and a full name: Cpn. Nikolas Kamaraov, GRU. Military Attache, Russian Federation, New York. And of course the seal of the Federation itself.

    He crumples up the napkin and tosses it in a nearby trash can. "Have a good day, Miss Heather. You make an old man feel welcome." he jokes dryly, chuckling. Not that he looks particularly old...maybe a worn late thirties, but still...white hair, right?"

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Lifting her own bottle of water in salute, Heather takes the card and offers a smile. "You also Captain. I assume Cpn means Captain, unless there's a Russian equivalent that I don't know." She smiles and tucks the card away. "I'll reach out soon. I assume you won't need a card to look -me- up online." she adds, almost petulant.

Nikolas Kamarov has posed:
    There's that faint twinkle in those icy eyes. "Yes, will look up Heather who models swimsuits, I am sure there are not /too/ many of those. Last name? And yes, captain." he confirms.

Heather Danielson has posed:
    Gesturing to Sid, Heather grins, "As the man said, Danielson. Heather Danielson. Ignore any of the fakes. If it says nude, it's not -really- me. Trust me." she adds with a shrug before she adds, "Sports Illustrated is the best stuff."