#lightninghaste

“Covert” operations had never been Roman’s signature. To the contrary, he had never been shy about exposing his face for fear of backlash. Besides, there was something to be said for the small stroke of ego that was abounded in the face of your own image gazing back at you from news reels and wanted posters. Perhaps it was fair to say that Roman took too much pride in his knack for notoriety; or else, that he had amassed an excessive indifference towards the blank slate his extended absence had earned for him.

So armed and mask-less had he infiltrated a quiet corner jewelry shop, mentally ticking down the seconds until which backup would arrive in response to the silent alarm triggered by the shattering of a shop window. It wasn’t the first time Roman had been here-- nor the last. After all, it was simply the shopkeeper’s sour luck to have rented an empty space perfectly poised at the farthest reaches of either Sector oo2 or oo3′s police stations.

A sparkling Rolex affixed to his wrist, Roman took his time scrutinizing the merchandise free for the taking before him. After all, he had the time to spare (a fact reinforced by the audible tick of a glistening gold second hand)-- or so he had thought.

A residual rush of wind to grace his back forced a hand to clasp his hat before it was unseated by the unexpected gust. So to follow did the criminal turn on his heel to confront the source of the disturbance.

“Juuust great.” These words arrived in an exasperated hiss beneath Roman’s breath as light eyes came to rest upon the outline of the scarlet speedster. And, while considerably longer and lankier than the Red to whom he was accustomed, the mere idea of contesting a foe who harbored similar gifts inflamed his ire.

“Care for a watch? Looks as though gold really is your color.” Roman remarked, his casual tone meant to maintain an air of ease in spite of this unforeseen complication.

          FINGERS KEEP HOLD of the plastic encased toolbox, tapping gently upon her thigh with each step forward. Even the gentle rattle of the light-weight contents were enough to cause awkward glances toward her, the sight of a full grown woman toting around a child’s toy a vision indeed. Now if only they would be so kind to direct her where she could pick up a more of the genuine deal had she not taken the task into her own, capable hands. Reaching forward, she gives a tap or two on the shoulder of a stranger nearby in order to gain his attention. ❝ Hey there! Pardon the tappin’, ❞ her apology simple enough, accompanied with an amiable smile.

     𝓢he’d never really been alone before. She couldn’t remember much beyond Xavier’s school, having been too young and her mind too much of a childlike mess. Even when Jean had isolated herself, away from all the stares and whispers of her schoolmates, she at least had Charles and Hank. Here, though, it seemed that she was by herself.

     Still, there was no point in moping about it, though. No fear, Charles had told her. That had to extend to being taken into a strange city by strange scientists who had the ability to dampen her powers ---- right?

      And while food was really the least of her worries, she was still a young, growing girl, barely into adulthood. She was a telepath, a creature of the mind; but that didn’t mean that she didn’t have body to sustain too. So she chose the closest grocery-type-looking store she could find, almost bumping into someone as she stepped in. Almost being the most important part, as without her powers, she wouldn’t have been able to stop what he had been carrying from falling.