Out with the Warden

Date of Scene: Apr. 27, 2011

Characters in Scene (in Order of Appearance):

- Phobia / Angela Hawkins III

- Supergirl

- Starman / Jack Knight

-----==[ MetroTower - Metropolis ]==------------------------------------------

Massive in size, this lobby is decorated in a modern approach; The black marble floor and mirrored walls make the already gigantic two level lobby look even larger. The walking area is quite large and open allowing room for the masses of people who pass through here every couple of minutes with a sitting area for those on a break or waiting for a meeting or other business to move freely. Large statues of heroes (fallen and current) are placed on the left and right emphasising the location of doors and hallways with floor maps on the left side of them reducing confusion for those who are new to the building.

There is a hallway that leads to the eastern side of the building that leeds to garage area, stairway, and restrooms. On the west side there is a doorway which has written on a plaque "Security Offices". On the south end surrounded by large glass windows opening up to the common area are four large automated glass doors. And finally on the North wall are the elevators which lead to the rest of the building, including conference rooms, engineering labs, and other high-tech amenities. It is clear that this room probably handles the majority of this buildings traffic and is highly secure.

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It's been a few days since Supergirl and Phobia clashed, and the process of trying to help Phobia turn towards the light is still ongoing. As the one responisble for Phobia, Supergirl has decided that it might be time to bring Phobia out of the holding cell and let her stretch her legs on Earth for a bit. So, in a column of shimmering light, the Girl of Steel appears inside MetroTower, with Phobia (who's wearing a lovely psi-dampening bracelt) alongside her.

Phobia is in full villian get-up, complete with the unhappy frown at the restrain on her wrist. She's pushing at it with the opposite hand in a resigned sort of fashion. Of course, the dampener is not moving, but it doesn't stop Phobia from fidgeting with it.

%R "I'm tellin' you, Jack, just give it some thought. I wasn't too keen on joining up with Bats asked me but in hindsight joining the League was the right move. " Ollie Queen's distinctive voice can be heard coming up the corridor. "The Society is a great bunch of guys but you can do more good in the League." His companion Jack Knight raises up one hand to hold off and says, "Okay, Ollie, I'll think it over but that's all I'm going to commit to doing right now. Thanks for having me up and all that but I'll have to think it over."

Ollie agrees to this and shows Jack the way towards the teleporter hub and heads back into the building proper after saying his goodbyes and Jack enters the main lobby.

Supergirl looks at Phobia and frowns a bit. "I know. I'm sorry that you have to wear it, but it's the rules for now. Next time....maybe I can convince the powers that be that it's not neccessary." She smiles a bit and puts a hand on Phobia's shoulder. "I know it's hard. But I'm proud of you for making the efforts, Angela." After Green Arrow leaves Starman alone, Supergirl notices the unfamiliar face and waves to the man. "Hi there! Are you a freind of Green Arrows?"

Phobia turns her face toward Supergirl as she speaks, eyes tracking to the friendly hand on her shoulder. Phobia's eyes narrow somewhat, lips still set into an unpleasant frown. There's a brief moment, where Phobia seems not to react, before she finally nods, and air of mental and emotional fatigue about her. With Supergirl pleasantly waving to Jack, Phobia follows the motion, eyes alighting on Jack. A faint bit of color rises to her cheeks as she recognizes her coffee buddy. Surely, he's going to recognize her, given that she's not a mask-wearing villian.

Jack Knight grins in Supergirl's direction and says, "Friend is a strong word. Acquaintance of his and Batman's and I think he invited me up here just to pitch a membership to me. I'm Jack Knight. " he then corrects himself remembering that he's among super hero types and adds, "Starman." he then looks to Phobia and says, "Hey, it's my coffee amigo."

Supergirl gives Starman a freindly wave and starts to speak. Then Starman's response to Phobia causes her to frown. "Oh....you two know each other? Ummmmm...." Yeah. Awkward.

"We've had coffee," is Phobia's reply, her British accent terse and unsettled. She steps from Supergirl one measured half-step, bring her just a bit closer to Jack. "More correctly, the term would be amiga," she quips, tone trying to take on that friendly note from their first coffee date, but failing miserably. "I trust you've been well," she continues, hand once again fidgeting with the bracelet that sits at odds against the black of her super-suit.

Jack Knight says, “Yes we bumped into each other in Metropolis once. There was coffee, there were corporate yutzes mocked, a lovely time was had by all. So what brings you up here?”

Supergirl smiles. She can recover this, make it right for Angela. "We're just coming down from the Watchtower to stretch our legs." She smiles and puts her hand back on Phobia's shoulder. "She's been cooped up a bit because her powers got messed with, boosted to where control was harder, and she asked the League for help." Supergirl? Lying? Maybe it's not Truth, but it is Justice to not reveal that Phobia is a bad guy when she's tryign to change. Kara looks back at Angela and smiles. "Isn't that right?" There's just a hint of a wink.

Phobia turns to regard Supergirl, with a quirked brow. Green eyes study the blonde's smiling face and hinted wink. She runs her tongue over her front teeth before replying in a deadpan, "Whatever you say." She turns back to Jack, lips twitching at the hint of something other than a frown. About to say something, Phobia glances at Supergirl again, snorts faintly through her nose, and pointly looks away.

Jack Knight arches an eyebrow and leans on his re-build cosmic staff. "If I can offer an observation, Sueprgirl. I'm thinking that poker might not be your game. Still, if you ladies wouldn't mind me tagging along I'm headed down planetside anyway."

Supergirl sags a bit in disapointment. "Sorry. I think I'll just keep my mouth shut and let her speak for herself now." Kara bites her lip a bit, realizing that she's probably making things worse here."

Phobia glances at Supergirl briefly, smirks, and turns back to Jack. The smirk grows faintly, into a near grin, and the black-clad one nods. "I, for one, would truely appreciate your company," she replies, the poshness smoothing out from its prior aggitation. Then the frown touches her lips again, and she once more fidgets with the bracelet. Turning to Supergirl, she quips darkly, "Are we really going to wander about dressed like this?"

Jack Knight looks between the two as things appear awkward. "You can always borrow my jacket if you like." he says to Phobia understanding all too well that there are some people who just won't be caught dead in super hero threads if they can avoid it

Supergirl shakes her head. "Of course not. ONe of the places we were going to go was your place so you could get some regular clothes. I've got my own change of clothes all set to go." SHe smiles. "I'm sure that Starman wouldn't mind waiting outside while we change."

Phobia seems somewhat relieved, and so nods to Supergirl, before smilng wanely at Jack. "Thank you. A gentleman, as always," she says smoothly, holding out the braceleted hand, palm down, toward him.

Jack Knight takes the offered hand and says, "I could even ditch my staff and jacket and the lot of us could go inconito"

Supergirl smiles and starts to float off the ground. "Okay, Phobia, we don't know the way to your apartment, so you'll have to guide us while Starman gives you a lift. And would an orange tabby do instead of a terrier?"

"So long as no one makes a Scarecrow reference again," Phobia mutters before heaving a bit of a sigh toward Jack. "So, how do we do this, lift, thing," she asks.

Jack Knight steps onto the pad and once they've reappeared in the atmosphere he holds up his staff which lights up and makes a light humming noise as he slips an arm around Phobia's waist and the two fo them effortlessly float off of the ground. "From here on I'm going to need directions"

Supergirl floats alongside Starman and Phobia. "I know Metropolis from the air like the back of my hand, so if you give me an adress, I can find it."

Phobia shudders a bit at Jack's touch. Holding his hand was one thing, but having him wrap his arm about her waist is entirely another. She frowns, stiffens her back, and tries to take a step away, but them her feet are no longer on the ground. With a faint squeak, she suddnely flings her arms about his neck and clings for dear life. Her heart races at that sudden spike of fear and adrenaline, only for her to moan in a bit of pain and drop her temple to Jack's shoulder as a migraine starts to sudden in. She rubs the bracelet again his arm, as if that would dislodge it. "I'm staying at the Wyatt," Phobia replies, face in shoulder. "12th floor. My balcony has the petunias."

Jack Knight makes his way in that general direction and says, "On the way, Miss Daisy." and as the two of you sail in that general direction he says, "Yes, the arm wrap was for aerodynamic safety and not in fact just my being fresh."

Supergirl laughs as she flies alongside. "I don't think that she thought you were beign fresh, Starman. You're probably as incapable of somethign like that as my cousin." Once she has the adress, it's an easy matter for Supergirl to lead the way, shortly, the group finds themselves on the balcony of Phobia's residence.

Phobia just clings there like a wet cat; generally shaking and very unhappy. All the while, she keeps rubbing that bracelet on Jack's arm. So intent in hiding and trying to rub the bloody thing free that she fails to notice their arrival.

Jack Knight can't help but laugh at Supergirl's statement. "Wow, you really don't know me at all do you?" As the two of them light on the balcony, Jack's staff humms down as he releases Phobia though he's a gentleman and leaves the arm handy should she need to steady herself

Supergirl smiles and shrugs. "Just giving you the benefit of the doubt. Although if you're more like Green Arrow than Superman...." She waits for Phobia to open the door and invite them inside.

Oh! We're here? We're here! Phobia moves too quickly to get out of Jack's arms once her feet settle fully, that she stumbles.

Jack Knight sets his staff against the wall and turns to Supergirl. "I honestly don't know Arrow well enough to say. For whatever reason Bats thought he'd be the one to convince me to join the league."

Supergirl smiles. "Probably becasue Green Arrow was such a hard sell to begin with. Okay, we'll be right back." She smiles at Phobia. "So, let's get changed and grab some of your clothes."

Phobia recovers herself and nods to Supergirl. Letting herself into her hotel room, she leads the way to her bedroom, and rummages through her closet. It takes her some time to change, but when she does, Angela emerges in her carefully coordinated two piece suit. Today, it's a soft teal, with a rich peacock-blue flower on the lapel. White lace gloves cover her hands without protecting them.

It doesn't take Supergirl all that long to change. Just a quick spin at superspeed and her blue costume and red skirt are replaced by a white spaghetti strap top and bluejeans. She walks over to Phobia once her charge is finished dressing and looks at the other woman for a while. "Here...let me see your wrist."

Jack Knight leans against the wall having changed out of his jacket and goggles which along with the staff constitute this incarnation of Starman's costume. He shrugs at Supergirl's comment and says, "Hey, I hung up the whole Starman thing five years ago and now here I am back so maybe I won't be such a hard sell afterall"

Phobia was looking through her jewelry box, looking at herself in a mirror while holding up various earrings to wear, seeing which would look best with her attire. As Supergirl approaches and asks for her wrist, Phobia pauses, regards Supergirl a moment, then extends her wrist.

Jack Knight stands in his bowling shirt (a true gem of a find from the mid 1950s if you're even remotely into that sort of thing) and waits on the ladies to emerge. When they do so he asks, "What is that bracelet thing anyway?"

There's just a bit of hesitation as Supergirl takes Phobia's hand. She presses her thumb against a pad on the psi-damper bracelet and the mechanism unlocks. Kara takes the bracelet away and looks at Phobia, smiling gently. "Trust has to begin somewhere. If you need it back to fight off the hunger, let me know." When Starman asks his question, Supergirl looks back at Phobia and nods to her. "Up to you what you want to tell him. Your fate is your own here."

Phobia eyes Supergirl with a mixture of confussion and awe. Bringing her wrist up, she rubs at it where the bracelet lay. Her gaze next turns to Jack, a little frown forming. "It keeps my powers in check," she all she replies before she turns back to her jewelry box for the pearl earrings and the silver wrist watch.

Jack Knight nods as he eyes the bracelet and the explaination. Oh yes, he's definately back into the super hero game again and he's almost ready to admit to himself just how much he missed it. "How did you get the power boost in the first place if you don't mind my asking."

Supergirl looks over to Phobia and gives her a 'it's up to you' look. She walks off to the side, looking at the decor in the main room.

The room is your typical high-end hotel room that caters to the more permanent guest. "She lied," is Angela's terse reply. She moves to her purse and settles to the foot of the bed to redo her makeup. "I'm a telepath, and she didn't want me in the minds of those in the Watchtower, apparently," Phobia begins, tone darkening. Already her mind is ferreting out for the darker emotions, for fear and anxiety.

Jack Knight nods "I gathered that she was lying but I thought it was abuot them trying to help you." He looks to the Kryptonian that he knows can hear him. "It was a complement, Blue. Not being a good liar is generally considered to be a good thing."

Supergirl smiles a bit at Jack. "I know. I'm sorry, but when it came out that you two knew each other, I wanted to try and give her an excuse to to her story to you on her terms." She looks over to Angela, no fear or anxiety. "I hope that you can accept that I was trying to help."

"Mmmmmmm," is all Angela replies, the sound rumbling in her throat, as she paints her lips with practiced ease. Quick 5 minutes face: foundation, powder, eyeliner, eye-lights, mascara, lipstick, dab of blush. She click everything shut, putting it away, and reaches for her shoes.

--Scene Paused--

Waking up in the Watchtower

Characters in Scene (in Order of Appearance):

- Phobia

- Supergirl

Location: A holding cell in the Watchtower of the Justice League.

How long was Phobia unconscious? She has no way of knowing. The psychic only knows that when she did wake, she was in a holding cell and that no minds were near enough for her to touch and meddle with. With the backlash from kara's mind still fresh, and no one's fears to drain her own mounting ones in, Phobia slid off the bunk and into a corner. Curling up, Phobia pressed her back into the corner, pulled her knees to her chin, and wrapped her black cloak up around herself. Shivering, eyes wide, there she stayed until her mind ran out of thngs to trap her with, and numb silence set in to her mind. Thus is how she can be found, curling into a ball, eyes wide and unseeing.

The door opens and in walks the reason why Phobia is in here to begin with. Supergirl isn't looking very happy about being here, but she has questions that need to be answered as well as a big decision to make. The psi-dampeners in the holding cell help mute Phobia's powers, but there's still a feeling of pity when Kara sees the state of the cell's occupant. "Phobia?" she asks in a gentle tone. "Angella? I need to talk to you. Please?"

It takes a long five seconds for Phobia's eyes to track up to Supergirl. The green depths are hollow, like a starved animal too long caged. Her upper lip curls away from her teeth, and her mind flounders amid the psi-dampers. The weight of them makes Phobia's throat growl, eyes water, and head turn away.

Supergirl sighs. This isn't going to be easy at all. "Angella, we need to talk. I want to understand. And I want to help you. I know something about your poweres and that you need to feed off negative emotions. That's a terrible burden and I want to try and help you with it. If you'll let me."

Phobia shuffles away, face buried into her hands. Her shoulders quiver with the lack of a decent.... meal. One hand pulls away from her face and moves out. Fingers splayed and palm up, its a motion that tries to say 'stop', but for all the trembling, the motion is weak at best.

Supergirl goes and brings a chair over so that she can sit. "Do you need to feed? If you do..." She closes her eyes, thinking. It's dangerous, but it's also something neccessary. "If you need to, we can turn down the dampers a bit and I can give you something. Something I'm in control of. Is that okay?"

Phobia's head lifts, at Supergirl's offer. As she lifts her head, it wobbles in a motion akin to a nod, though with as hard as she's trembling it may just be her overall unsteady state. The tip of her tongue flicks out and moistens dry lips. Her breathing is short and heavy.

Supergirl nods in response. "Okay." She gets up from the chair and goes to the control panel, turning the dampening field down, to about half strength. She returns to the chair and settles back into it. "Okay. I'm going to visualize something. I'm not going to try and overload you with it. Just please only look at that and nothing else in mymind, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Kara closes her eyes again and brings back the memory of the day Krypton's death hit Argo; the trememdous shockwavae ripping the planet from it's orbit and causing apocalyptic earthquakes and tidal waves.

Phobia's mind latches out, finds the first fear she comes to and claws into it. It's harder than she's used to, with the dampeners, giving Supergirl the mental control to guide what's seen and felt and shared. All Phobia does is cause the fear to spike and for the mind of her victim to see the fear as a real thing, as flesh and blood and smell and taste. All the while, Phobia takes the feeling of her victim's fear, savors it, and uses it to fill the hole in her own psyche where her own fears and phobias lurk.

Supergirl clenches her fists as the horrors of that day are relieved and the feelings of fear intensified. Her eyes are shut tight and a few tears stream down her cheek. "Just...just a bit more. I really don't like dwelling on this day...."

Phobia uncoils, like a snake, and rises to her feet. If she heard or if she cared is unknown as she continues to feed. "Something in common, have we," she whispered, voice mocking and cold, taking on the grating reverb of shattering rock. "Yess... just a bit more," she adds, tones taking on a sadistic quality as she twists her mental knife, savoring as much anguist as she can.

As soon as Phobia starts talking in that voice, Kara stops thinking about that day. She focuses on happier times: times spent with her friends in the League. "That's enough!" she snaps. Kara gets up and turns the psi-dampners back up.

Phobia gasps in a startled strandled sort of way, stumbling backwards into the bunk and falling down onto her backside. She shakes her head, trying to clear it, trying to scoop up the lingering sensations that still dance about her thoughts; she presses the fingertips of one hand to a temple. Looking up at Kara, eyes more clear than before, Phobia asks with a hiss, "Why are you holding me?"

It takes Kara a moment to steady herself and regain her composure. She manages not to crumple the control panel as she grips it to keep her balance. "There's several reasons why we're holding you. I'm not going to lie to you and say that some of what you saw in my thought isn't the biggest reason. But I am telling you the truth: I do want to help you. I think you really do want to be someone better. You want to stop being the villain, that's why you left the Brotherood. That's why you were regretting what you were doing to that man last night." She looks back up and focuses her gaze, and her enhanced hearing, on Phobia. "Am I right?"

Phobia's eyes narrow, and her lips press into a pale thin line. Her heart beat catches a moment in fright as her mind races with wild thoughts of just how this one knows these things about her. Was that farm girl from the park a spy? Why did she have to open up and say a word to anyone? If she ever finds that farm-brat again, Phobia plans to make sure there's little left of her mind to recognize. Pushing herself to her feet, Phobia keeps as much distance between herself and Supergirl as she can, feeling trapped and uncertain how to answer. She wants to yell no and turn Supergirl's mind to goo, but with the dampeners on, and her mind not having focused well enough to find the controls, that's a no-go. And then there's the part of her that wants to change, the part that Raven forced her to see, that frightened little girl, that is shouting from the back corner of her mind: Yes! Yes! Let me out of here!

Hearing Phobia's heat pounding in fear, Supergirl softens her stance and walks back to the chair. "I know you're scared. I don't need telepathy to tell. Your heart rate, your body posture...I can read it all. Angella, I really want to help you. Your power is a burden that no-one should ever have to bear. But that doesn't mean that you're a bad person. You've been dealt a bad hand, but it's not too late to change."

Hand by hand, Phobia creeps along the wall until she's as far from Supergirl as the holding cell allows. Defenseless and now trapped in her own mind, Phobia's mind struggles to comprehend what its being given. "You've done your homework," she hisses, snake-like. Even to Phobia's ears the tone lacks luster and strength. "But what of it? You'll change me? You'll save me, Hero? Somehow, I doubt that."

Supergirl 's voice is quiet but it does carry. Especially in the cramped confines of the holding cell. "One of the things you saw was how I was betrayed by Cadmus. How when I was beaten and near death, they healed me, but they also took some genetic material from me. They created a clone, one that would do their bidding. They took everything I am, everything I was, everything I stood for, and they perverted it. They turned a version of me into a weapon and let it loose. And even after I beat her, she still kept coming after me. She tried to eliminate me and have my life. But I forgave her. I accepted her when she needed me. I accepted her as a sister, even. If I can forgive all those things, set aside my hatred for the people that betrayed and me and created a twisted copy, what makes you think I won't try to honestly help you?"

Phobia blinks, slowly. Yes. She saw, and at Kara's mention, she recalls that was part of what she had dreamt before she woke. It was part of what had dulled her mind savage while she waited. Phobia frowns, narrows her eyes, and retorts, "We don't know each other, and we have no ties other than your fears." The way she leans on the word 'fears', the way it makes her heart race again, makes it clear that this word means much to her.

Supergirl leans in a bit. "We're connected much deeper than just that." Despite the words and he mvement, Kara is not trying to be menacing. "You said it yourself when you fed off me just now. We've got something in common. We both know what it's like to loose everyone and everything we loved and be alone."

Phobia half turns toward the wall, peering at her faint shadow, all the while worrying her lower lip with her teeth. At her side, her hands ball into clentched fists. A moment later, and the fists come to her temples. A moment after that, her knees bend and buckle, and Phobia slides to the floor, shaking her head violently. "Leave me alone," she rasps.

"You don't have to be alone, Angella." Kara tries to put as much warmth and conviction into her voice as she can. "The League can help you. I can help you. You don't have to live a life of feeding off the homeless and desperate. We can help you find a good purpose in life. You can be stronger than what you think your power makes you. You just have to want us to help you."

"The League. The Brotherhood. What difference is there," Phobia hisses and snaps in reply, uncoiling to glare at Supergirl. Tears already striking her face, she seems not to notice them. "I do fine on my own. I disturb as few as possible." Again her mind tries to lash out, and again Phobia grimaces, ahdn coming to her temple as the dampeners weigh her down. "So, she was your spy, then? An informant; that farm-girl? Best you keep her from me! Or let me take my leave from you now, and I shall refrain from crushing her should I see her again!" Ah, the path of the villian. Making threats.

Supergirl looks puzzled. "I have no idea who you're talking about." She really hopes that her act is convincing..."And you're doing alright? Feeding from bums on the street? You're living like a scavenger. You're a person. And you deserve teh chance to live like one. I'm not going to say that I know what it's like to have your power, but I do know that it doesn have to be a curse unless you let it. One of the Leaguers that I admire is Captain Atom. He has no phsyical body now, he's just sentient energy. But he still refuses to let his condition define him. It would be all too easy for him to just withdraw and give up, but he keeps fighting and lives as a hero. You can do the same once we figure out a way for you to use your power to help others."

Phobia snorts lightly at Supergirl's first comment, as if to say 'I've heard that one before'. But as the kryptonian continues, Phobia frowns, considering. She moves back toward the bunk, settling down upon it. Her parentage does her well, and she sits with her back straight, her knees touching, and her ankles crossed. Marveling, seeing as no one's ever offered to help her before, Phobia's slow to trust, and she finally looks over. "Plan on keeping me in here the whole time, then?"

Supergirl shakes her head. "No. That wouldn't be right. But we can't let you out immediately, either. It's going to be a slow process, getting you to trust others and getting others to trust you. But it *will* be worth it. Did the Brotherhood ever trust each other? Not gaining trust hasn't exactly worked out for you, has it? Just be honest with yourself, please. Ask yourself if you really want to go on living like this, like a scavanger that has to hide in the night jsut to survive. I'm offing you a chance at a better way, a better life."

Phobia sneers at that, almost recoiling. Her heart speeds up again, bloodpressure rising into her ears. But once again battling herself, Phobia turns away from Supergirl, once again biting at her lower lip. After a moment, her eyes narrow, and she slides her gaze toward Kara. "And if I said yes?"

Supergirl stands up and walks over to the holding cell. She places her hand on the transparent wall that looks in on Phobia's cell. "Then we'll help you learn to focus your power. We'll help you master it instead of letting it master you. I promise."

Phobia looks up fully. Her eyes widen, only just now realizing that there was a WALL between them. Anger thuds her heartbeat as a dark frown graces her features. Regally, Phobia rises to her feet, moves to the middle of the cell, and glares at Supergirl. "And if you fall in your promise," she growls in a tone that borders into more fear. Her heart rate once again gives her away; this has happened to her before.

Supergirl smiles gently and points to the 'S' shield on her chest. "You think they let just anyone wear this symbol? And don't even start on the 'he's your cousin' bit. Superman doesn't believe in nepotism." She takes a deep breath, centering herself agian. "I need to go now. Can I send you down some food? We've got a great cafeteria here."

Phobia hadn't really considered Supergirl being Superman's cousin. It never really occurred to her, but now that it's mentioned it makes part of what she attacked Supergirl with in the alley make a little more sense. The farmers must have been close to Superman, and therefore close to Supergirl, hence her fear and guilt at their death. Phobia's heartbeat relaxes as she considers this new information while she nods in reply. "Yes, please," she adds verbally.

Supergirl smiles win a friendly way, not feeling as upset as she had been. "What would you like? I can recommend the roast turkey with dressing and mashed potatoes. Or what ever you prefer, we have gourmet chefs here on the Watchtower."

A loud gurgle speaks up that just about anything would be DELICIOUS! A gurgle loud enough that it could be heard clearly even without the help of super-hearing. Phobia's cheeks darken with a faint touch of pink at the sound, which had cut her off as she openned her mouth to speak.

Supergirl giggles and smiles. "I'll just have them send down a 'Flash special': a little bit of everything on the menu. SOund good?"

Off-put by the giggle, Phobia merely nods. Delicate brows pull together and form a light crease between them as the corners of her mouth pull downward again.

Now, Kara smiles sympatheticly. "It'll be okay, Angella. We'll work it all out and things will be better. Tomorrow...we can try siphoning some negative emotions agian. Okay?"

Phobia's eyes narrow again, lips once again forming an unhappy thin line on her face. Her reply is to fold her arms over her chest, not quite hugging herself.

Nodding quietly, Supergirl walks out. It's going to be a long road, but it has to work out, if not just for the fact that Phobia has too much information she could put together.

Frowning, Phobia paces the cell until the food arrives. When it does, the once-villian eats quickly, before pacing again until her body's tired enough to curl up and fall into a more natural sleep. How long it will last, however, with only a light 'feeding', is anyone's guess.

Fighting Fears

Characters in Scene (in Order of Appearance):

- Phobia

- Supergirl

-----==[ Suicide Slum - Metropolis ]==----------------------------------------

Although the name of this district is officially Hobb's Bay, it has earned the unshakeable nickname of "Suicide Slum". This part of the South Side has always been known as a neighborhood for immigrants and the working class, and while the mixture of inhabitants changes over the decades, it is always ethnically diverse. Its older buildings -- some derelict -- hold much of the real character known in the history of Hobb's Bay as an ethnic and artistic mecca. These days, it is primarily known for having filthy streets and decaying, empty high-rises.

Despite this, there has been some resurgence in civic pride in the past few years, in the interests of making the Slum a more pleasant -- or at least less horrible -- place to live. Although limited in its impact, the gentrification may be encouraging to those who find themselves in this place, that there are some struggling to bring the area out of its seemingly interminable decline.

The dark of night is when the boogeyman is out. Tonight, that boogeyman is the green abd black clad Phobia. She's been on the prowl for an hour at least, finding Metropolis a much more difficult hunting ground than Gotham. She'd been fighting the urge for a day now, and finally, unable to sleep, here she is, standing over a poor homeless man. Caught sleeping in his cardboard box in an alley, he cries out in his sleep as Phobia's nightmares over take him.

The work of a Supergirl is never done, or something like that. Being a hero, especially Superman's cousin, means that she has to do things like occasionally patrol Metropolis at night. And Suicide Slum is always her least favorite part about keeping Metropolis safe. The general air of desperation is at odds with her normally happy outlook, and a reminder of the past tragedies in her life. While most people in the Slum would ignore the cry of the homeless man trapped in Phobia's nightmare projection, Kara's superhearing picks it up and she looks down to investigate. Her enhanced vision lets her see the scene, as well as the villianess causing the comotion. Supergirl did a bit of reading up on Phobia after their encounter in Centenial Park yesterday, so the costume is recognized. Swallowing hard, Kara swoops down to rooftop level and calls out. "Okay, that's enough there. Whatever you're doing to that man, stop it right now."

Phobia lifts her gaze at the voice, eyes glittering as she keeps her mind wrapped in her victim's. Frowning, Phobia snarls lightly as yet another costumed hero interupts. "Another one," she grumbles, accent turning dark. She turns from the man, who lays shivering in his nightmare, to face Supergirl. "Off with you, Hero. There is no crime in watching a man sleep," she hisses as her mind readies for use against her possible foe.

"It's a crime if you're causing him pain." Supergirl is standing,or rather, floating, firm. Her arms are crossed in a gesture of confidence and strength. Internally, she's trying to keep ehr mind calm so that she's not projecting any strong emotion or fear. "This poor man is homeless, he literally has nothing. Don't you think he's suffering enough already without taking away whatever comfort he gets from sleeping?"

"I cause no more pain than he could cause himself," Phobia hisses in reply. She steps to put herself between Supergirl and the homeless man, as if she is protecting him from the floating hero. "What he suffers is none of your concern," she retorts unhappily. "So I would leave, if I were you, unless you wish to learn of his suffering for yourself." Her mind brushes across Supergirl's, reading the surface fears and anxieties, noting how she works to keep calm.

[OOC] Supergirl says, "Of course, her two greatest fears right now are the Kents dying becasue her secret ID gets exposed, and Earth being destroyed becsue she failed to protect it."

Supergirl floats slowly downward. "Anyone suffering is of my concern. Especially in Metropolis. I know who you are, Phobia. And I know what you can do. You haven't been active as a villain and you don't exactly sound happy to be doing this. So maybe you've had a change of heart? Maybe you don't want to hurt people anymore?"

Phobia's eyes narrow sharply and she steps back, away from the man and the approaching Super. Fear spikes within her, darkening Phobia's expression further. "Quite so," Phobia retorts, mind starting to craft the fears she found on her first read of Supergirl's mind. "This man's suffering is the least of your concerns. Certainly, there are others, more important to you, that would suffer worse fates should you continue to interrupt." There's little physical change Phobia needs to make to herself at the moment that would assist the waking nightmare she's creating for Supergirl. What visuals Phobia could create are, ultimately, controlled by her victim.

And in Kara's mind, she sees the Kents lying dead. Their farm, the entire town of Smallville, burning as Luthor leads a horde of villains upon the unsuspecting populace. Superman screams in pure rage as he kneels over his dead adoptive parents. And Kara knows it's all her fault. Supergirl falls to the cenment. on her hands and knees with tears streaming down her face. "Kal...I'm sorry...I couldn't...." Her voice is a cracked whisper.

Phobia seems startled at the reaction. She barely touched Supergirl's fears. She gave barely a spark and the fears exploded like a powderkeg. Phobia listens to the emotions rolling off her defeated foe, catching only catching bits and pieces. A farm family, dead. A man leading an army of metahumans into a city. The notable Superman turn over the death of the farmers. And the feeling of terrified guilt crippling Supergirl. Stunned, Phobia watches and feels what she has done without feeding more into it. After a moment, Phobia kicks the homeless man, and growls into his mind to run. He squeaks and scrambles away, leaving the two ladies alone in the darkness.

Supergirl struggles under the weight of the guilt she feels from the vision. Part of her realizes that this is Phobia's power, it's what she does. Kara clenches her fists, powering the cement from the sidewalk caught between her fingers. "You...you're nothing more....than a parasite." The words come slowly and with effort. She's fighting back with every mental defense technique that J'onn taught her. Gritting her teeth, she collects her focus. "You feed off of the suffering and guilt of others? Here! Have a five-star meal!" And all of a sudden, Kara pushes all her negative memories to the front. The agony of watching Argo die a slow death. The betrayal of a mind-controlled Superman. The violation of having her genetic material used to create a living weapon. And the heartbreak of finding true love in the future, only to have to return to the present. It all comes rushing through her mind like a torrent.

Phobia gasps, one hand coming to her face. As if that would block the images. Phobia stumbles backward, quivering at the guilt, at the loss, at the fear. The emotions echo her own dark childhood, merging with them and making them impossible to drowning out as she's used to doing. It's too much too fast. "St-st-stop...?...!... ."

"What's wrong?" Kara says as she slowly gets up to her feet. "I thought this is what you wanted." She keeps up the mental imagery in her mind, focusing in on the days of Argo where she and her family were the sole survivors on a dead world. "Why would you want me to stop?" She's almost shouting right now, and her eyes are glowing dangerously red.

This is not how Phobia likes it. Being force-fed is not the way to keep her own fears in check. Phobia struggles to fight back, mind lashing out and stabbing at a random fear. The feeling of loneliness, sole survivor, strikes a chord in Angela, and pulls strained words from her throat. "You should have left well enough alone! I was bothering no one of importance."

And it's that feelign of lonlieness that hits Supergirl, or rather her own feeling as Phobia hits that nerve. "You were forcing yourself on them. Forcing them to relive painful experiences. And that's wrong." Fueled by her own anger, Kara moves swiftly, body-checking Phobia towards one of the walls in the alleyway; not nearly her full speed, but hopefully enough to end this without serious injury to Phobia.

Phobia is a push-over when it comes to the physical things. Supergirl body-checks Phobia. Phobia thuds against the wall, then slides down it to land in an unconscious heap at Supergirl's feet. The exact moment Phobia lost consciousness, when the wall made contact with the back of her skull, is clearly felt for in that instant all the mental feedback Phobia was creating stops completely.

Panting, Supergirl walks over to Phobia's prone form, her head still reeling from the psionic assault. She picks up Phobia and taps the comlink in her ear. "Supergirl to Watchtower, two to beam up to a holding cell. Prepare for incoming psionic criminal. Also alert Martian Manhunter and Superman." In a flash of light, both women are caught in the teleportation beam and transported into the orbiting Watchtower. Supergirl sighs as she deposits Phobia in the holding cell: she's going to need a super-sized asprin to help her with the headache and to figure out what to do with Phobia and the potential knowledge she may have.

Tonight, on Dr. Kara....

Characters in Scene (in Order of Appearance):

- Angela Hawkins (Phobia)

- Kara (Supergirl)

-----==[ Centennial Park - Metropolis ]==-------------------------------------

Centennial Park is one of the most beautiful parts of Metropolis. It's a noted tourist attraction, and its tall trees and man-made lakes are an iconic facet of the city. Forested acres give way to more manicured areas of the park with benches and bike/hiking paths, as well as trails for horseback riding. There is a stable where visitors can rent mounts for a few hours to ride under the trees. There are ornamental ponds with carp that attract waterfowl, and people often relax and feed the ducks when they tire of walking. One area has a carefully laid-out golf course, with a scrim of trees to help contain stray shots. The entrance to the Metropolis Zoo is here, as well.

Music from the Swan Carousel, restored from its original carving in the 19th century, can be heard through the trees. Elegant statuary and fountains decorate clearings with benches, ideal for relaxing or as picnic spots. The most notable statue is at the center of the park, depicting Superman; originally intended as a memorial when the Man of Steel was thought to be dead, it remains there as a tribute to Metropolis' most famous protector. Near the statue stands the Jurgens Museum of Metropolis Art and History.

It's a picturesque day. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. Little white puffy clouds dot the sky. People are out jogging, walking, horseback riding, playing frisbee or flying kites with their families. In a coordinating tweed suit, remeniscent of what the british aristocracy wears, Angela Hawkins walks with an even measured gait through the park.

It's not that often that Kara gets to take a break. When she's not busy with school, chances are she's busy as Supergirl. But even a Girl of Steel needs to relax and unwind, so Kara's killing two birds with one stone, dressed up as Kara Kent with her brown wig done up in a ponytail and wearing a Metropolis U t-shirt & jeans. She's sitting on a park bench, one of the few with available spaces on this busy spring day, and reading a textbook for her psychology class. Sure, she could read it at super-speed and be done in a few seconds, but sometimes it's nice to take things slow and just pertend to be normal for a while.

The posh Brit clicks and clacks her way on her Louis Vatton heels toward the only available sitting spot. Next to the college student. Pleased that the bench is shaded, Angela moves over and settles regally onto the wooden and metal bench with a faint, "My apologies if I disturb you." She definitely has that upper class British accent.

Kara smiles and pushes her (fake) glasses up on her nose a bit more, nodding to the woman. "Oh don't worry. You're no where near as disturbing as studying in the commons would be. I'm really just going over material from today, so nothing needing serious concentration."

Phobia nods to that, her eyes peering at the book. "I had thought to study that, once," she comments haughtily as she settles a patterned bag onto her lap. It's about the size of bag as what one would carry a small dog in. With a metal click, she unfastens the magnetic closure.

"Well, I'm only studying it becase I'm a pre-med student, so it's a requirement." Kara closes up the book and sets it to the side. "Why didn't you study psychology, if you had an interest in it?"

"...Other things got in the way," Angela replies after a long moment's pause. Her manicured fingers dip into her bag to retrieve a pair of silver knitting needles and fine silk thread. She readjusts a few loops and sets to work, eyes only half watching waht she's doing as she glances at Kara again. "Have you plans to be a doctor, then," she asks with overt politeness.

Kara nods. "Yeah, I'm almost done with my pre-med studies. One more year to go. But yes, the goal is to become a doctor. General practitioner, most likely." She smiles and hold out a hand. "I'm Kara, by the way."

There's a moment that Angela peers at the extended hand as if it were an odd thing. But the moment passes, and she lets her knitting go long enough to reach out with her own hand. Her grip is dainty, delicate, and rotated slightly off the normal US version of a hand shake so that her knuckles are a little more 'on top'. "Angela Hawkins the third," she entones nobly. "A great pleasure, Ms. Kara."

"oooh. A third, even." Kara smiles in a freindly way, not mocking the suffix at all. "British aristocracy, then? You accent hints at that."

Huntress pages: I was able to get her to accept it as a generic easily. I just had her mention her other medicines, and pointed out how her Fosamax is now a generic. Please don't. Dad takes that shit out on ME when you piss him off.

Angela nods formaly. "Yes, quite so. And yourself," she asks, mildly curious. Afterall, this was but a colony. There weren't any true nobles here.

Kara smiles and shrugs. "Just a Kansas farm girl in the big city, I'm afraid." Of course, she can't tell Angela the *real* truth. "Are you gonig to be watching the Royal Wedding then? Kind of a big to-do over there right now."

Angela hmphs softly at that. "Most likely not. I expect that my family has already received their invitations," she comments coldly, accepting the farm girl story. Of course, everyone in America is a farmer. ;)

Well, that certainly calls for a change of subject. Kara rollse her shoulders to get more comfortable. "So, what brings you t America, if I might ask?"

"Estranged relations from across the pond," Angela replies, glancing down to her fingers as she turns her work around to start a new row. "Which led to estranged relations on the far coast. I find myself here, giving distance to it in an effort to... refind a focus." She hmphs lightly, almost grinning. "Odd, the things one says to a stranger studying to be a doctor, no?"

Kara smiles. "I take it as a sign that I'm going to be a good doctor. I tend to get people to open up to me." She shrugs a bit, looking at the other woman carefully. "I can understand about the focus thing. It took me a while to figure out what I want to do with my life." Well, what to do with her civilian life...

Angela lifts a brow, almost grinning again. With her work turned, she leaves off looking at it, in favor of keeping her eyes on the person she is speaking with. "You seem so young, if I may say so, to have found your focus already."

"Well, I guess I was focused on other things for a while," Kara admits. "Kind of a fun life, like any young person would be. But when it came down to it, I decided to go with pre-med becasue my mother was a doctor. So, a bit of family tradition."

"Ah, tradition. They keep that around here, do they," Angela asks, tone somewhat patronizing.

Kara arches an eyebrow. "Yes, we do. My cousin's family have traditions that go back a ways. Sure, they're mostly for holidays or recipies, but they're still meanignful to us. They give us a connection to our past, and that's what's important in tradition."

Angela nods. A bemused, slightly surprised expression on her features. "Quite so," she murmurs soflty, before falling into a moment of silence. "You and your family are.. close, then," she asks.

Kara nods. "We are, yes. I'm an orphan and my aunt and unclce kind of took me in. Then and my cousin and me, we're all the family we have now. So we kind of hang on and cherish the family stuff."

Angela's hand pause briefly. "My condolences," she offers with no real emotion attached to the words. She turns her gaze down to her knitting.

"It was a while ago, "Kara says with a shrug. "And I was older when they died. It still hurts, but I've moved forward." She looks at the woman's knitting. "Sounds like you have the opposite situation that I have."

Angela looks back up at Kara. "Does it now," she prompts questioningly, fingers never slowing.

"Sorry. None of my business, I suppose." Kara has an appologetic look on her face. "So, how long have you been Stateside?"

Angela grins thinly as she replies, "Several years now, though at times it seems like far less."

Kara nods thoghtfully. "This isn't exactly where you want to be though, is it? It's pertty clear that you're over here not totally by your own choice. Maybe that's why you're having difficulty finding your focus here."

Angela's hands pause, and a sigh rattles through her thin nose. "It's best this way. I've found a place that gives me what I need, and another that is quite the opposite. Hopefully, I'll find a happy medium in which to move forward from what my live once was." She considers this a moment, then shurgs and resumes knitting. "In so far as I will be allowed, that is. Reputations have a way of following one around, I'm afraid."

"Yeah. Unfortunately, they do." Kara nods sympatheticly. "I know a lot about moving forward and starting over from scratch. I know how hard it is. And the biggest thing that you need is someone to listen to your problems and help you through them."

This makes Angela stop knitting entirely. She turns her green eyes on Kara. He whole face is one of confusion mixed with relief. "Yes. I do suppose you are right," comments the Brit.

Kara smiles, warm and inviting. "So, care to lay your troubles on a complete stranger who's non-judgemental? This is kind of what I do, help people out with their problems."

Long moments pass as Angela considers. her hands pausing every now and again. Finally, hands resuming their work, she begins softly. "I was once a member of the Brotherhood, in San Francisco. I helped them by subduing various members of the Titans. One of their number, however, has made me...." She pauses, fingers turning her work around to begin a new row. "...reconsider. And yet, I find myself still needing the feel of what my powers do to people." She pauses and looks over at Kara. "What so many costumed super heros and villians in this world, I'm certain you know what I speak of. I am Phobia."

Well, Kara certainly wasn't expecting that. Good thing she's had some lessons from J'onn in controlling her thoughts and expressions in front of a telepath. "I see..." Kara draws out her response, knowing that she really shouldn't be around this person at all right now. But her desire to help is strong. "You're serious about what you just said? That you're a vill...a metahuman named Phobia?"

Angela's hand pause. She closes her eyes and pulls back on her mind's need to seek out fear when the hint of a person's anxiety teases at her the edge of her perception. "Yes," is the reply as green eyes open and turn to regard kara again. "I was a villian, as marked such in that I opposed those commonly seen as heroes. Though, as can be seen by the differing opinions of our countries' mutual history, the role of hero or villian is often a matter of which side one stands upon." And then she smiles softly, brows pulled a light tense in her efforts to keep her mind ot herself. "And if you are at all skilled in controlling your own thoughts and emotions, waylay your fears and anxieties. They serve only to fuel a thing that I would rather be elsewhere to do."

Kara nods, not really needing to act to convey a sense of anxiety. She takes a few deep breaths and forces herself to calm down. "Okay. I said I was non-judgemental and I meant it. So, semantics of good and evil aside, it sounds like you want to change your life. Maybe give it some meaning? And to do that, you're now moving towards wanting to help people, but you still have these cravings. Is that pretty much what's going on?"

Angela takes a deep breath, hands completely still on her knitting. She waits, willing her mind not to seek out those anxeities, waiting for the perfume of them to pass. Once Kara begins speaking, and the weight of the emotions is lessened, Angela nods lightly. "For the most part, yes."

Kara nods, slowly and carefully. "Then it sounds to me like you already knowwhat you should be doing. If you do good things, then the people who are good will notice and in time, will come to acept you. I mean, the Justice Leage let Hawkgirl back in after the Thangarian invasion, right? If you show your commitment, people like Superman will start to try and help you." And her cousin would, the big lug...

Angela can't help but snerk at that. "I rather think not. I have tried. Minding my own business, and doing what I must to keep my own mind and all manner of caped wonders come out of the wood work. "

"Because you need to feed on fear," Kara says with a nod. Rather than fear or anxiety, she's now looing at Angela as a problem to be solved. "Have you tried explaining that you need to feed on fear? Or is it more soemthing that you do that you could survive without?"

A light frown plays on Angela's face. "That I am speaking of it to you is quite the accomplishment, Kara." With Kara no longer feeling fear, the need to feel it is lessening, but much like a smoker trying to quit that's gotten a whiff of second hand smoke, the itch for fear begins a new. "I have done my best to find a location and a group of malcontent upon which to prey, but to no avail. As for surviving without it, from the moment I discovered this gift, I can not name a time when I did not survive without it."

Kara thinks for a bit before responding. "Well...and I'm not syaing that it's right to cause fear in someone jsut becasue they're bad, but if you're going with that mindset, Gotham would probably be the better city for you. Lots of whacked out criminals there."

A thin line of cold laughter drifts from Angela, the smile almost warm. "Yes. I've discovered this already. I've found Metropolis to be my bright and sunny resting spot between the times that I must... how did you put it? Feed?" She shakes her head, no longer laughing, but still smiling at it.

"Well, it's not going to be easy," Kara says. "You've set yourself a hard task. But if there's one thing my cousin always says, you have to do what's right, not what's easiest. In time, things will get better for you. You just need to hang in there until it all turns around." She gathers up her book, still smiling freindly, "I need to get going now. But it was really good to meet you and talk to you."

Angela nods, expression softing. "Yes. Likewise," she begins, faltering slightly before she regains herself. "i can't recall the last time I had so pleasant a conversation about so sensative a topic. Thank you. I..." She stops and presses her lips together.

For a bit, kara freezes. That pause from Angela sets her mind at unease. She goes back to calming her mind and putting on a better front. "You're welcome. And was there somethign else?"

For a moment, Angela opens her mouth, but seems to think better of it. "No. It would be far too improper. Thank you, Kara. I will not be forgetting our meeting easily." She smiles again, the strain of fighting her own habit evident in the tightness of her eyes.

Kara nods. "Okay. And I do hope things work out for you. Maybe I'll see you around the park sometime." She picks up her book and bows her head for a bit. "Good luck, Angela." She holds out her hand to shake it.

Angela reaches out her hand again, returning Kara's hand shakes. "Yes. Likewise. I ... I shall look forward to any future meetings we may have."

Valari Intro

Characters in Scene (in Order of Appearance):

- Valari

- Huntress

- Phobia

Late evening. The sun has long since set, and the sity is finally starting to settle down for the night. Well, except for those areas where the night clubs and bars are clustered together. Moving quickly through the quieter streets of the Gotham business district is a lone motorcycle rider, the black of the bike and near-black of the rider's garb not all that unusual. However, the cape trailing behind the rider IS noteworthy, as is the normally-concealed quiver of crossbow bolts attached to the back of the rider's belt.

It isn't far away that a beat up old VW van, it's rear windows blackened and aweful yellow and green paintjob rusting, sits a few dozen meters tucked into a dark alleyway between a nightclub and a bank. The lower rear panel is open and a man in a hoody is kneeling there seemingly working on a motor. He has an oilcloth on the ground behind him and spread across it a set of very expensive looking tools.. sort of at odds with the junkheap he seems to be working on.

Huntress turns a corner and accelerates down another street, likely going WAY faster than the posted speed limit. The snarl of her Ducati washes through the alleyway housing the beat up old VW and its mechanic like a slow-moving jet and is gone again within seconds... though in reality, she slows at the next intersection and pulls into a similar alleyway.

Valari frowns and looks up as the ducati passes and the headlights for a moment illuminate the strange face which is hidden in the shadows of the black hoody. A face that is like hemotite, dark silver, with brighter silver eyes that have gold almost glowing pupils. real gold and silver. And then she has passed and his face is still in shadow but the gold pupils still seem to retain light. The figure shrugs and goes back to doing what he is doing... unaware that three shadows have peeled themeslves from a doorway at the back of the club and are walking towards him as he works.

Enter another black clad figure. My. Aren't they numerous in Gotham? Cape fluttering faintly behind her, Phobia walks slowly, eyes moving here and there, windows of apartments, the front of dance clubs, the darkness of alley-ways; looking. The roar of the motorbike draws her gaze. The reflective gold pupils retaining the light keep her attention. Her head tilts her head and makes her was toward the shadows near him, curious.

Huntress parks and conceals her motorcycle with the care and skill of much practice, then takes to the rooftop of the shorter of the two buildings she's currently standing between. She's as of yet unaware of the presence of the other black-clad figure or that there are odd shadows near that old rustbucket of a VW.

The Trio of shadows, three young and rather looking gangers, waltze up behind the hoody man and one of them chuckles. "Wow, what a peice of junk." he states, his friends shaking their heads and joining their leader for a laugh. Hoodyguy doesn't even seem to notice them, or maybe doesn't care, just continuing to work on the engine... Which seems to make the guy a bit angry. "Didn't ya hear me me, dude? Your ride is a peice of crap!" He then kicks at some of the tools, spreading them across the alley. This DOES get hoody's attention, the lithe shape slowly rising.. "Oh ho, did we make you angry?" one of the other gangers taunts and the third, beffiest places a hand on hoody's shoulder. "Maybe we should make him pay a toll, Johnny." he suggests to the leader. "I mean, he IS working on our turf.."

As the trio make themselves known, Phobia slows her steps and settles herself against a wall to watch. She flicks her tongue across her lips as tempers start to flair. Her mind opens to those near by, listening, sensing, for that sweet spike of fear that she can latch onto. Gotham is definitely sitting well with her.

Huntress crosses the rooftop she's on, and with a nifty trick of zipline and gravity ends up on the one adjacent the Alleyway of Busy-ness. She pauses as she hears something, then steps toward the edge to look down at the beat up old VW, its owner, and the three hooligans. Oh HELL no. She silently pulls her crossbow from its holster and in a move somewhat like the Mariachi in the movie Desperado loads a pack of wooden bolts into the weapon, wincing at the faint click as they lock into place. Then the crossbow is aimed down at the three young thugs, ready to ventilate their shoulders if they try anything untoward. If she's thinking 'Do you feel lucky, punk?' she manages to keep it to herself.

Valari doesn't seem to be bothered by the trio, or at least his body language doesn't reveal anything. In fact, other then the fact that he moved, which had an eerie almost mechanical grace, he doesn't seem to have any body langauge. His head turns slightly, as if he is looking at the hand on his shoulder. "I will leave." he says.. or at least maybe it's a he. The voice is.. off.. Almost syntheic in nature.. like it is going through a voxbox with some staticy reverb. "I don't want any trouble." The leader raises a brow, arms crossed, as he regards the back of hoodyguy. "Really? Well you are on Rumbler turf, buddy.. I think that will get ya trouble enough." He seems to not even be looking for a reason to cause trouble, just escalating it for troubles sake. Johnny reaches behind his back and withdraws a gun, solidly pointing it at the back of Hoody's head. "I wouldn't move." click "Stewey, hold him. Vanner, check this jerks pockets.. those tools are nice even if the bus ain't. Bet he has /some/ cash if he can afford em." Stewey, the beefiest, squeezes Hoodyguy's shoulder harder, as if trying tof orce him to his knees as Vanner reaches for the pockets.. But Stewy doesn't seem to be able to force hoody down.. straining. "What the hell? He's resisting, Johnny." he tells his leader.. Who shrugs. "Easier to get money if he's dead, I guess.." and starts pulling the trigger.

Phobia makes a mental count of the psyches she can feel. Out of the lot, the three thugs are the easiest, and so it's Stewey's mind she sinks her claws into. A quick read of his fears and a smirk later, and Phobia lifts her hands from her sides. A mad puppeteer in control of her string-puppet, Stewey suddenly screams in terror and moves to scramble away from Valari, arms flailing.

Valari pages: Valari doesn't register

You paged Valari with ‘thanks. :)’

Oh HELL no. The moment Huntress sees that pistol levelled at the VW owner's head her course is set. She pops off three bolts in quick succession, one aimed at the forearm of Johnny's gun-hand, a second at the bicep of Stewey as he tries to push the hoodie-wearing man, and ... the F*? As Stewey starts flailing she manages to stop the last bolt from firing, readjusting her aim and then letting it loose at Vanner, planning on only winging the punk to get him away from their intended victim.

One would expect so much commotion and the fact one was about to get ventilated to actually startle someone.. But Stewey's ravings and the scream of both Vanner and Johny seem to have little to no effect... Except that the final nerve impulses in Johnnies arm causes him to squeeze the trigger. The gun isn't execptonatly powerful but it does catch hoody right in the back of the.. hoody. There is a spark as the caliber passes through the hooded head and strike the back of the VW.. breaking out the darkened rear window. The figure staggers foreward.. leaning heavily against the VW but not slumping.. HUnched for a moment, as if lifeless, he begins to Move.. Turning and pulling his hood back. His head is smooth, hairless and reflective like polished, darkened, silver. Both liquid silver eyes are aglow, the gold pupils burning.. In the center of his head is a large hole, showing nothing but a straing neon green on black circuit board pattern beneath the darksilver skin.. skin that is closing. The man lashes out at the screaming Johny.. Arm extending, stretching like some long piston, the 'flesh' breaking up from its silver to that glowing green lines on black circuit board pattern.. The hand reforming like a large 'U' and catching Johny in the throat and pushing him hard into the dumpster.

It's like the nightmares write themselves in Gotham. Phobia may never leave this town. The sight of Valari widen her eyes in morbid wonder and facination. She blankets her mind over the three thugs, assuming the fourth mind she feels belongs to Valari rather than Huntress. To the thug's minds, Valari's visage grows more demonic. And, just to add that soundtrack, Phobia begins to laugh. Dark, cold, psychotic, and to the minds of the thugs, coming from Valari's fang-lined maw.

Huntress simply can't help herself. "Holy SHIT it's a Terminator." She watches for a moment in amazement, and then she hears the cackling. It's NOT the T-1000 down there, so where is it co...oh. There. She sees the black-costumed woman and frowns, squinting a bit as she tries to get a better look at Phobia.

Valari walks towards Johnny, his piston-like arm shortening as he closes in so he can keep the ganger hanging there, strugging and graspingas as he is choked by the mechanical collar pressing him to the dumpster. He stops a few feet short, looking at his target.. looking at the arrow sticking from his targets arm.. The gold pupils turning as if he resolves focus. Then his head turns to the roofs, scanning.. catching the sound of someone's voice and then someone elses laughter... Eyes tracking to those points... He looks right at Huntress... Then Phobia.. then back at the terrified pair of gangers behind him before looking back to Johnny. "I... /WE/ did not want trouble." he tells him in that synthetic voice. "We just wanted to be left alone. We wanted to fix our transportation. You shot us. We should /delete/ you."

The gangsters behind Valari scramble away, hoping to make a break for it since their minds are telling them that Demon-Valari has a small army of face-eating monsters. Phobia steps out of her hidey spot. To the gangsters, she's a more lithe version of Valari. The sucubus to his infernal. She shifts her gaze to the trapped Johnny, syphoning the fear from their minds, savoring it, and stroking more hellish, nightmarish visions for their eyes and their eyes alone. "Command me, Lord. How shall we delete this creature," she questions. Her posh british accent is pitched a little lower than her normal speaking voice, but not so low that Huntress, who has heard Angela Hawkins speak before, won't be able to identify her if she has the mind for those sorts of things. To Johnny and Company, however, Phobia's voice is a near perfect match for a female version of Valari's digital reverb.

Huntress sees the costumed woman step into better view and then hears ... holy crap it's that British chick. "Sonofabitch." Suddenly several clues fall into place to paint a picture.. and she now knows what that odd silvery pin-like thing she picked up the other day is. Seeing that the thugs are all pretty well under control and crazyBritchick down there is now the greater unknown quantity, her aim focuses on Phobia.

Valari watches as Phobia peels off from the shadows, though he only sees her as she really is, not how the others see her. "We are not a Lord. We do not need help deleting this inferior example of humanity." he says, his synthetic voice getting colder as he turns to look at the gasping leader who finally passes out. Now that johny is out cold, the arm retracts, back to it's 'normal' size and color and he turns away from the guy as if he doesn't exist. "It is a waste of energy to delete him." he finally decides, though not sounding as if it is any sign of mercy. "Who are you. And why is the female on the roof above us aiming a crossbow at you?" he asks. He didn't even LOOK up again, did he?

With the other two gangsters making a semi-clean get away, and Johnny passing out, Phobia has little now to feed on. Her elation let down when Valari didn't play along, her crazed grin fades. And then he mentions someone on the roof. She looks up, mind reaching out for another mind, but finding only the 4th mind she had had a lock on and had dismissed. "Who's there," she asks, voice back to normal. A thin line of anxiety quivering her voice. Why can't she feel that other mind?

Huntress figures that once Johnny is down for the count it's safe enough to head for the ground floor. Judicious use of a zip line sees her setting foot on the alley pavement after just a moment or two, right next to one of the expensive looking tools that got scattered at the beginning of this altercation. Smoothly scooping the tool up in her free hand she offers it to T-1000. "I believe this is yours."

Valari looks between the two women, each very different from the other yet somehow to him the same. HIs eyes are intense, as if slicing each woman up layer by layer and reconstructing them in his head.. studying every nuance. When Huntress offers the took he nods and takes it in his semi-reflectibe hand. "We thank you." he states, simply, then looks at Phobia. "We thank you as well." He turns and bends over, starting to gather his tools as if nothing had happened.

Phobia looks between the two, lips parting in confusion. Still only one mind. Frowning, Phobia backs away, and pokes at the mind she can sense. Her green eyes peer between the two of them, wondering which is going to react to tell her which mind she's sensing. Aloud, she murmurs, "You're welcome."

Huntress nods at the Terminator for a moment, taking the time to school her features and NOT react to that really unnerving sensation that's like someone walking on her grave. She pulls something needle-like out of a compartment on her belt and turns to offer it to Phobia. "And I think this is yours."

Valari packs up his gear and closes the engine panel.. but if one looks before he does and know enigines they will see it isn't a VW engine.. but a porche one. HE stops as he is about the get into the vehicle, staring again at the two women as they interact, but then shifts his focus and closes the door. The egine starts, loud and smooth and powerful and within moments he is out of the alley and merging with traffic.. wherever he may roam.

Phobia reaches out to take her knitting needle. It's only when Valari leaves that it becomes clear whose mind she's been feeling. Turning to look at Huntress, Phobia blinks a few times, holding her mind in check. "Yes," she finally says. "It is. Thank you."

Huntress lets Phobia have her knitting needle back. "Well, be careful out here. There are all sorts on these streets." Does her voice twig something in Phobia's memory? Maybe. It's not like she's trying to make her voice sound different. She turns to leave, as she had other reasons for being in this area already, and she has to take a moment to get a police officer to stop by and pick up Johnnyboy over there.

Phobia frowns lightly as the voice tugs at a memory Phobia just can't quite grasp. Hmphing softly with that Brit-Posh sort of way, Phobia steps over the prone body and makes her way back out to the street. Time to head back to her hotel room. She's gotten her fill of fears tonight. "Yes. Mindless robots, deliciously spookable gang members, and you," she states crisp and clear and haughty. "Fare well," she adds as she turns to make her way down the street.

Huntress says, “Yeah. Whatever." She watches Spook Spice walk away then steps over to deal with Johnny, half hoping that the chick doesn't run afoul of the Bat... and half hoping she does. She takes the time to dress the bolt-would on the kid's arm and binds his wrists with a zip-tie while she waits for the police to arrive. "Fun fun. Yay.”

Feeding on Joe

Characters in Scene (in Order of Appearance):

- Joe (Joseph O'Meara)

- Phobia

- Huntress

- Paco (Vibe)

-----==[ Little Odessa - Gotham City ]==--------------------------------------

Although there is no end to the gargoyle-ridden, gothic skyscrapers and dark towers in this area of Gotham, Little Odessa is one of the more insular and quiet communities in the city. For decades comprised largely of immigrant populations from Eastern Europe, the Russian Mafiya has its hooks in almost everything here. Located within Little Odessa is Grant Park, much smaller than Robinson Park to the north, but far more serene. It is generally considered to be under mob protection.

==============================================================================

It's a cool spring evening, not wet or rainy, precisely, but foggy. Jo's hurrying him from a meeting in a squalid little apartment, collar turned against the cold and damp. He's in a plain black overcoat, dark head bent, expression tired and set. He took the subway, and thus he'll go home that way, but it's a stretch to the next stop.

Amid the cool and damp of the Gotham fog, Phobia stands. In her black attire, cloak pulled close overherself like a shawl against the chill, her green eyes flick from scanning the apartment buildings to Jo, rushing from one. A brow quirks as his steps bring him in her direction. Her only movement is to flick a tongue across her thin lips.

A cop should have better instincts for danger. But even the best slip up, sometimes, and Joseph is very tired. He's striding along the cracked sidewalk, heading for the nearest subway stop, which is some little distance, hands stuffed into the pockets of his overcoat. No hat, though, and pearls of condensation gleam in the dark hair

A fatigued mind is often the most susceptible, or so Phobia has learned from experience. She moves, taking one step from her shadowy perch, toward the cop. As she does, her psychic mind reaches for his, subtly listening for whatever undercurrents of fear or anxiety might creep into play. A grin begins to form, like a prediator long overdue for a meal. Her eyes are fixated on her prey, sizing up if he'll sustain her addiction better than the last child's nightmare.

Mostly low grade anxiety. Will the mob catch on to his informant - a single mother in her early twenties, a mobster's girlfriend? Will the modifications Milo made to him years ago flare up again; Joe's been uneasy about his nervous system since being a supervillain's lab rat, once upon a time. Nothing in the forefront of his brain, not these days. He's not running for the subway, just using that ground-covering pace.

Phobia licks her lips one last time as anxiety drifts towards her, and she stops her slow forward advance on the edge of the shadow that lies between Joseph and the refuge of the subway entrance some fifty feet behind her. Her mind is already finding images to craft for the unwitting detective, images designed to crack his forcce of will and leave him a panicked mess. As the darkness of night creeps forward, deepening the shadows, Phobia's mind latched on to one of the tiny memories: a supervillian. Her mind seeks to stroke the thought, hoping to coax it into the fore, where Joseph's mind might give her more details about that moment of fear. Details she could pull over herself in a mental illusion that would alter her appearance enough to further aggrivate the situation.

Achilles Milo's a relatively minor villain in the Bat's rogues gallery. But he's had a profound influence on one unfortunate Gotham cop. O'Meara, while still a young cop walking the beat, was grabbed by his henchmen, and experimented on. His nervous system was altered, in an attempt to see if he could manufacture superheroes. Or more accurately, supervillains of his own. It only partially took, but it didn't kill Joe, either. But he still has nightmares about being helpless on an operating table, the blurry periods of pain. He shakes his head to himself, and picks up the pace, as if the bright glare of the subway station's lights will be enough to drive away unwelcome memories.

Nightmares. The thought sends shivers down Phobia's spine. She steps from the shadows fully, blocking the light from the subway. The click of her heeled boots on the cement purposefully audible. She lets her cape flutter open, the edges in front taking on a lab coat sort of feel to Joseph's mind. She brings up a hand, holding up a slender silver needle, some eight inches long, and highly reflective.

Huntress is actually not on duty at the moment -- she's passenging in a sleek black muscle car, 60's vintage. Paco is driving, though he isn't getting to control the music. Hey, it was HIS idea to try that new restaurant over on South Loop, and now she's late getting home for her 'night job'. She leans over to turn the volume up on the Metallica coming out of the car's speakers. "Chachi, remind me to never listen to your food recommendations again."

"Mang it was fine!" Paco calls back to Huntress, sighing at the choice of music. But oh well. He did agree to let her choose the tunes. He'll be listening to more dance-oriented fare on the way home. "I don't know what chu were talkin' about."

He's got inhuman reflexes, courtesy of Milo. But they don't do you any damn good at all if you're frozen in place, and that is precisely what O'Meara is. Like this is the world's most horrible game of Simon Says. His lips have parted, and he's gone an awful shade of gray, entirely bloodless. Somehow the gleam of the needle is more frightening than the muzzle of a pistol.

Phobia smiles. "It's so good to see you again," she whispers, mind brushing it in waves out toward Joseph. Phobia revels in the feel of his terror, syphoning it away, drinking it into her own mind.

[OOC] Phobia is actually holding up a laceweight knitting needle.

[OOC] Huntress grins evilly. A 000 steel dpn may as well be a hypodermic. ;)

[OOC] Phobia says, "LOL!!! Totally!"

Huntress catches a glint of light off of something out of the corner of her eye and turns to look at the pedestrians on the sidewalk as they pass by. Normal, generic, everyday ... wait. That police officer is staying WAY too still for her taste. Beat cops typically don't stop walking without good reason, and seeing this guy standing so still is raising all kinds of alarms in her head. "Chachi, pull over and let me out."

"Huh? What chu..." Paco's eyes trace where Huntress is looking, and he quickly gets an idea. "Okay chica, but I'm comin' back for chu! Just as soon as I find a good parking space for my bebi." He carefully pulls over and waits for Huntress to unload herself, then he begins the challenge of finding a good and secure-looking parking spot in Gotham City at this time of evening.

And terror is the operative word. All his training has deserted him, leaving Joseph fixated entirely on that needle, the images his mind is offering up of Milo ignoring his pleas. Despite the chill of the evening, his brow is gleaming with sweat. He takes a stumbling, almost drunken step backwards, and lifts up a hand oh so slowly, as if to ward off this vision.

Huntress nods shortly at Paco and gets out the moment he stops, stepping up onto the sidewalk and starting to walk away from the car as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Her unhurried pace is taking her toward the subway entrance and Joseph, but her eyes are scanning EVERYTHING along the way in an attempt to locate the source of the beat cop's increasingly obvious distress.

Phobia ignores Joseph's pleas, and counters his movement. As the detective steps back, Phobia steps forward that one step to maintain the distance between them. Her mind is fully locked into his, a tick bured neck deep, that the approaching car is not registered. To Joseph's mind, Phobia's appear continues to solidfy as his terror. And that one step brings Phobia fully into view of just about everyone. "Don't run," she whispers to Joseph softly, still holding that oh so terrifyingly innocent knitting needle in her hand.

Vibe keeps puttering along in his awesome muscle car. Dammit, why is Gotham so hard to navigate?! Alla these one-way streets and do-not-turns and -- there! There it is! A lot that isn't too far away, and so he pulls up and immediately bursts into Spanish profanity. "Closed?! Closed?! What the..." There are many expressions about goats in here, and he continues on his way. There's got to be *something* nearby. Maybe he'll use his Justice League status to throw his weight around. He's sure it had some kind of function to knock off parking meters.

And Jo doesn't dare. He's no longer a beat cop, not in uniform - hasn't been for years. But the memories are there, and they have him in thrall, completely. He looks sick, and he's begun to shiver, as memory takes over the present.

Phobia holds onto Joseph's mind, almost gingerly, just letting him play out those nightmares. She helps guide them, hoping to keep them from overwhelming too quickly, yet keeping him firmly rooted in them.

Huntress spots Phobia the instant she steps fully into the open with a ... hat pin? in one hand but is careful to not react beyond the glance. I mean, this IS Gotham. Costumed sorts are almost commonplace around here. As she move to walk past the man still standing stock still in the middle of the sidewalk, she glances at her wrist as if to check the time, pauses, mutters faintly to herself as if just realizing that she's not wearing a wristwatch. She looks around briefly, then steps over toward Joseph but making sure to keep tall dark and spandex in her peripheral vision. "Um, excuse me. Do you know what time it is?"

Okay, that's it! Paco pulls the car into an empty place in front of some storefronts. They look like reputable enough shops. He doesn't have any change, though. But it's after hours, and there aren't many other cars around, so maybe...well, if anything happens, he can always say he was on official business, which may be true, depending on what Huntress has seen or is presently doing. He hopes to himself that she didn't just see a special on doughnuts or something. Carefully he hops out of the car and locks it behind him, then starts to run down the street back in the direction of his former passenger.

It's a big fit of cognitive dissonance. Joe's pulled out of his flashback a little, though - he jerks back, as if he'd literally gotten his foot unmired from quicksand, and stares at Huntress as if she had two heads and a tail.

Phobia hisses as Joe takes that awkward step back. Her gentle hold of his mind unbalances. Eyes filled with terror and a fear-lust not quite sated, the psychis screams. "Get away from him," are the words. The terror syphoned from Joe's mind rips the sound from Phobia's throat with all the raw blood curdling of a woman screaming at a murderer whose a heartbeat away from slicing open a loved one's throat. Her hands ball into fists and drop to her sides, almost like a child throwing a temper tantrum. The innocent knitting needle lowered to her side with the motion. With the sound shattering the fast approaching night, so too does Phobia's carefully crafted illusions within Joe's mind begin to shatter, to be easily shaken off as one would shake off a waking nightmare. And Phobias mind latches onto Huntress, clawing for a fear, a terror, a nightmare, anything that she can use to cripple this distraction, leave it helpless, so that she can return to her mental feeding.

Huntress puts up one hand to placate Joseph when he snaps out of...HOLY HANNAH what was that?? She startles at Phobia's scream of indignance and turns to look at her like SHE'S grown that third eyebrow. Of course, she's probably just set herself up to get mentally attacked by Crazy McJealouspants over there, and she's got LOTS of fodder for the psychic to work with. She IS one of those dark Gotham hero-types after all. They ALL have tortured pasts.

Na-na-nanana-na-na-na-nananah! Well no, not Wonder Woman, but Vibe is running up the sidewalk. It's a good thing he keeps fit! If he weren't such a great dancer, he probably wouldn't be able to run this distance at such a high speed without really tiring out. But he did just eat a big meal, and that kind of factors in. He winces inwardly.

What the- Jo shakes himself, like a retriever coming out of the water. And then there's a supervillainess RIGHT IN HIS FACE. "Holy hell," he says, breathlessly. "Who are you, and what in God's name do you think you're doing?"

Only able to focus on one mind at a time in high stress situations, Phobia grabs one of the many tortures in Huntress's past. Any one will do. Oh, look. That one looks nice. And with a vicious yank, the psychic tries to force it to the fore. Unlike the delicate coaxing and alluring whispering she had done with Joe's mind, her assault upon Huntress is filled with malice and fear. All while Phobia snarls, features contorted, voice inhumanly frightened. "Leave him alone."

Huntress gasps and stumbles back a step at the sudden onslaught of terror-filled images flitting in front of her eyes. Unlike Joseph, however, she's long since trained herself to be able to function despite feeling like Mandragora is THIS close to opening the door of the closet she's hiding in and find her. "NO. This can't be real..." She fumbles clumsily for something in one of the pockets of her jacket.

"HEY MANG WHAT'S UP!!" Vibe calls from just across the street. He's finally within a short enough distance! Now, when the whole thing has advanced to a stage far beyond what it was only a few minutes ago. Well, if his voice isn't enough to jar Huntress out of Phobia's assault, his bright ensemble might just be the thing she needs.

He should handle this better. Keep control of himself, call for backup, try to force Phobia to behave. But all that rational behavior is out the window, and now Joe is just shoving at her, literally trying to bring her off balance.

Phobia's attention snaps to Vibe as he calls out. Out numbered. Cornered. Fear spikes in Phobia, and not because anyone around her is afraid. Joe's hand connect, and Phobia cries out, mind losing hold of Huntress. The illusions shred away from her mind, much as fingernails shred skin when two people holding hands are torn away from each other. Unbalanced, Phobia topples bacward, hands instinctively dropping what they were holding in favor of grabbing at the closest big thing at hand. Phobia reaches for Joe, body hoping to use him to keep from falling backwards onto the sidewalk. Her pale skin grows more pallid.

Huntress flinches at Paco's voice, but it isn't enough to snap her out of Phobia's grasp. Joseph's shoving at the villainess is, though, and she finally manages to pull the object out of her jacket that she'd been fumbling after -- a small but wickedly sharp knife. "What the hell is your deal, lady?" Now that the fear's been stripped away, anger is all that's left, and she's not nearly as good about keeping that under control.

Glancing around himself, Paco looks from Huntress -- he knows her -- to Joe, to Phobia, and then back to Huntress again. "Mang what chu got goin' on here?" He puts his hands on his hips, then somewhat awkwardly shifts them to fold his arms over his chest. After a slight pause, he clears his throat. "Um. I mean what's up? Chu all look like chu seen a ghost or somethin'!"

Joe's off-balance, literally and figuratively. So, down he goes as well, unsteady and foolish, utterly unlike himself. His reflex is to help a woman, even though he knows already she's his foe. So it's an ungainly tangle of limbs.

Phobia physically curls up, curling around Joe, as the two tumble to the sidewalk. She's shaking, eyes wide, hands clutching onto whatever part of Joe they happen to be near; shoulder, elbow, chest, wrist, what have you. Spotting the knife gleaming in Huntress's hand, Phobia tries to shrink behind her meat-shield... I mean her hero... Joe. "She's gonna kill me," tumbles out the frightened phrase.

Huntress watches Joseph and the Crazy woman both tumble to the sidewalk and mutters darkly to herself. The knife disappears again far more efficiently than it appeared, and she steps over to untangle the two. "Chachi, gimmie that bandana of yours."

"Wh-what? Chica, this is a *special* bandana!" Paco's hand goes to the garment in question, much like a sensationalized wealthy older woman might clutch her pearls in shock at some piece of surprising news.

And....she might very well be. Much as his instincts urge him to flee, Joe's interposing himself between Phobia and Huntress. "Ma'am," he says, as cop's training reassertsitself, "I'm going to have to ask you to put that away. There's no need to take it to that level." Ironic, considering he's got fear sweat drying on his body.

Phobia clings to Joe, a crack addict and her pipe. She moves with Joe, shifting to make sure as much of him is between her and Huntress as possible. Arms wrapped around him, nose by an ear, her entire frame shaking like a leaf or a chihuahua. She eyes Huntress and Vibe fearfully.

Huntress has already put the knife away. "Chachi, don't make me kick your ass. Now gimmie that damned bandana." Joe may note that she didn't answer him, and is still standing over the two of them as if expecting one or the other to bolt and run.

Paco frowns and presses his lips together into a very narrow line. "Chica I'm not even gonna get into this with chu! I don't hit chicas, you know that." He undoes the tie and pulls the bandana off, holding it out. "And I *better* get this back, chu know! Chu can't get those anymore! Designer limited edition!" He leans closer to Huntress. "*Boutique*!!" All about the image, mang.

"And who are you? Both of you?" Joe's stressed enough to forget the usual civilities. Nowhere near hhis usual self, anyway. "I won't let her kill you," he assures Phobia, even as he tries to get to his feet.

Phobia shifts with Joe, getting to her feet behind him. Her own fears subsiding, she reaches out to Joe's mind again, using his stress to calm her own fears. Still shaking, however, she eyes Huntress and Vibe from behind her knight in flak-jacket armor. "Please, please," she begs of Joe, while her mind tastes his emotions to see if he needs any encouragement to be her protector. This nightmare might just be salvaged!

Huntress snatches the bandana from Paco's hands with a brief glare, then steps over to try and use it to blindfold Phobia. She has no idea if it'll keep the woman from messing with people's heads, but it's better than nothing. "Concerned citizens," she finally says to Joe. "Who really prefer to NOT have our brains messed with by little miss Scarecrow here." The fact that she can name one of the Bat's major adversaries means she's not just ANY average schmoe citizen.

Now he is in his element. Paco puffs out his chest and stands at his full height, which is still comfortably below six feet and thus shorter than virtually every hero and most of the heroines in the Justice League. "Chu talkin' to Paco Ramone, also known as Vibe, world-famous champion of the Justice League, man! And this is my lady friend, uh, Tita!" Paco Ramone, eternal shield of secret identity.

He doesn't want to protect her. He's already off-balance enough. "Then I'll bring her in. What is it you think she can do?" Joe's remembering himself, little by little - he glances uncertainly at Phobia, shakes his head at the costume. He's already reaching for his cellphone - no radio on him.

Phobia gasps as Huntress comes at her with a blindfold and Joe's mind reads clearly a lack of wanting to protect her. "No. No, no, no," she stammers, backpetalling and falling away again. "I'm not what you think! I haven't helped them in ages. I promised Raven I'd stay out of these things. I wasn't doing anything wrong. No one was getting hurt. Stay away!" She's panicking, trying to focus, trying to find a mind to frighten into saving her.

Tita? Seriously? Huntress tosses another glare at Paco which could easily be taken as either "Why the HELL did you tell them my name?" or the more accurate "What the HELL kind of stupid name is Tita?" But then Phobia is starting to panic. "Damnit, hold still or I'll MAKE you."

"Mang, Tita!" Paco tries to keep up appearances. She'll thank him for this later. Or maybe not. "Tita, chu always gettin' chu pants in a bunch. Let's just super chill and we can tell this nice dude about the woman chu just blindfolded with my bandana."

[OOC] Joseph O'Meara sheeps, and must fade, I fear. It is laaaate for me.

[OOC] Joseph O'Meara says, "i'm not sure how I should best excuse myself Icly, as i were."

[OOC] Vibe says, "Thanks for playing...we could just agree on something and fade here?"

[OOC] Phobia says, "Sure. What's Huntress's plan for Phobia? I'm not sure that she'd be able to get away if the three of you work together to contain her."

[OOC] Huntress says, "How about Joe says he'll take Phobia under arrest, leads her away, and as soon as they're out of eyeshot Pho sucker punches him or something and gets away."

[OOC] Phobia nods. "Works for me."

[OOC] Phobia says, "If it works for everyone else?"

[OOC] Joseph O'Meara nodsnods.

[OOC] Vibe says, "Absolutely! As long as I get my bandana mang"

[OOC] Huntress says, "And Joe can nix the blindfold so Paco can get his *boutique* bandana back. ;) Oh, and Phobia? I'm keeping the 000 steel dpn. ;)"

[OOC] Phobia says, "Drats! There goes a good quality knitting needle! You owe me! ;)"

[OOC] Vibe laughs!!

[OOC] Huntress says, "You can come try to get it back. ;) Was it just the one dpn, or was it a circular with a project attached?"

[OOC] Phobia says, "Evidence?"

[OOC] Huntress says, "Too bad it's too small to hold a fingerprint."

[OOC] Phobia says, "Just the one. She was out feeding, not looking for a new pattern to craft. and Phobia wears gloves."

[OOC] Huntress says, "Darn. ;)"

[OOC] Phobia says, "Yeah. Though, it's possible she touched it without gloves at some point. And I haven't found anythign to say if she has a secret ID or not and I haven't decided for myself yet. I'm sorta thinking she does..."

[OOC] Phobia says, "but not, cuz of hte scene with lili. yeah, confused."

[OOC] Huntress says, "Hee, okay. :)"

[OOC] Vibe says, "Well, Lilith isn't vindictive or anything. She's groovin'~"

[OOC] Phobia noddles. "I know. Lili just got her talking about it in public, so I'm not sure that if Phobia HAS a secret ID she works hard to keep it.

[OOC] Vibe nods!

Joseph O'Meara has disconnected.

Huntress sighs as the guy (plain clothes cop based on his mannerisms) walks Phobia away. Sighing, she offers Paco his bandana back then looks down and notices something shiny on the sidewalk. Crouching down, she picks it up and looks at it. "Hunh. Weird."

You guess it, Huntress. It's one of Abuelita's steel knitting needles, perfect for making dollies for dollies.

Vibe takes back his bandana with great relish and care, letting out a sigh of relief as he ties it back around his neck. Ahh. That's better. Designer fashion bandana that was *hand-dyed* and unique in the world! When a man has an image to maintain, there can be no limitations on the lengths to which he would go.

A block or two away, Phobia clocks Joe and runs for it.