#rebuildevent5

Plus it gave him a chance to look around, get a sense of how the city was feeling. It was harder and harder to trust his own instincts, even though time had proven that was the only thing worth trusting. The decorations were elaborate and the smell of food was everywhere, and for the most part, people seemed thrilled just to be invited to an event like this. Maybe it was just a chance to relax, to let loose and not think about the danger they were all in -- though the armed militia around the perimeter was a staunch reminder. They were meant to make people feel safe, keep the demons out, but for some reason, it made Steve feel almost trapped. Which was crazy, right?

Tonight, she’d traded in the bow for a clutch bag, and her costume for one of her favorite dresses, and she figured -- she’d earned one night off. Just one, and then she’d go back to being Super-Kate, Hawkeye extraordinaire. “Best way to celebrate the fourth, hands down. You dancing? I’m totally dancing. After I hit up that shrimp buffet, because futz,” she breathed.

eighteen years old now finally, the youngest wayne male knows he ought to look forward to something like this, he ought to bubble with brilliance, revel in the luminescence of social royalty and peasantry around him, but in truth, he finds this and everyone here exhausting; insipid conversations and awkward flirting, horrid dancing and he can hear a music being played from somewhere, frustratingly just a hair out of tune. his teeth click and lock together in an effort to keep himself from murdering someone just to relieve stress, so he ends up wandering away from all that, past tables and chairs and groupings of laughter and bedlam, the commotion coalescing into white noise rushing against his ears, and he finds himself trailing just past a carrier with drinks.

and he thinks, fuck it. the concept of getting drunk has never been overly appealing to someone like him, a war machine like him, a demon head boy like him, a robin like him, a weaponize half-clone, born in a bottle, bred for a worldwide kingdom he’ll never reach for now-- he’s never gleaned any interest in the concept of killing off brain-cells, each one burning with enough potential to conquer any enemy he stands against. but he’s getting dizzy already, and the headache is beginning to throb at the base of his skull, and he has 13,843 seconds still left on his time-clock, and maybe he’s seen his father pick up a glass of champagne one too many times not to try and emulate him ( because who wouldn’t want to be just like bruce wayne? )

he snatches the glass off the tray as the carrier moves past him, quick enough that she doesn’t even notice, and manages to bring it just a breath above his lips, before someone quick plucks it from his fingers, swiping it away from him before he can taste or react. perhaps his brain-cells are already dying, but his fury boils and he rounds on them in disgruntlement. “tt! hey!”

She did not understand how this party fit into Doom’s plans. What the point of it was. Truthfully, very few things the ‘present-dent’ did made sense to her. He had his armies, he had the entire city fooled, and yet he squandered his power on something like this -- without informing her as to any of it.

Perhaps he didn’t trust her. It was a wise decision. But he hadn’t chosen to kill her after she discovered his secrets -- what little there was to discover. He was a careful, fastidious man. Which meant nothing was done without a purpose, but she could fathom what purpose a party had.

Still, she came. She hovered around the edge, back against a wall, hiding in plain sight. The smell of food was tempting, but she kept herself very still, refusing to move. Her goal was to observe. Maybe if she watched long enough she would discover the meaning of something like this. 

Coming to the party with Jen had been one of the best decisions Matt had made in a long time, which considering how many bad decisions he had made, probably wasn’t giving her the true respect that she deserved. Of course, going anywhere with somewhere like Jen meant that there were times when he was left at the bar while everyone else was being thoroughly charmed by her, and Matt didn’t entirely mind that. It meant that he could spend some time listening to the people around him while sipping on a nice, cool Macallan that he would never buy for himself.

It also meant that he was a prime target for being approached by Daisy, who he had heard entering the party and kept a careful ear on for the majority of it. There were few who managed to sneak up on him, but in a party situation such as this it was made easier, something Daisy had taken full advantage of in the past. “A wild foster sister approaches,” Matt commented, unable to keep the smirk from growing on his face as he swirled the whiskey around his glass. “She moves through the crowd like reed grass, eyes set on her target. Will he flinch at her approach? Will he duck behind the bar? Will he divert her attention to the ice sculpture that the grand majority think was carved by a fifth grader? Stay tuned after the break to find out.” Accents were kind of his thing, but David Attenborough definitely needed a little work. Matt held out his glass for her to try, leaning back against the bar. “Thanks for not embarrassing me tonight,” he said. “It really helps my ego when you hold back, at least sometimes.”

His job then, was to be seen here. To have an alibi, and  hopefully draw the attention of those who might be suspicious. But he would be lying if he didn’t admit that there was another reason. He thought perhaps he might see one of his children. Wanda. Lorna. Even Pietro, though he doubted the boy would want to show his face this publically. Once, he’d had a relationship with each of them, spent hours and days with them, and now... Now his life was simply the Brotherhood, as it had been for so long. Fulfilling work, important work, the most important -- but far different from tea with one’s child. 

Accept the challenges so that you can feel the exhilaration of victory.

New York City successfully had resources, and as a result, Doom had every intention of celebrating. Of course that wasn’t his only victory -- quite the contrary, Doom had numerous things to celebrate, including the general public’s support. The demand to list their powers with him, giving him every insight into his primary enemy, the superheroes of New York City, was echoing across the city, loud and obvious. There were countless articles written, protests taking place, and lastly, Doom wanted to celebrate the fact that heroes were slowly beginning to trust him as well. He had yet to communicate closely with them, knowing avoidance was crucial with numerous telepaths and ‘geniuses,’ but soon the time would come.

First Doom wanted to reward the public, his supporters and naysayers, and to do so he sent out invitations to a lavish party hosted at his home, the Empire State Building. With resources found in the wasteland, his staff created a small but lovely menu, and a large area was erected with decorations and a large banner that simply said, ‘Thank you New York City!’ From the outside, the party looked like one being thrown solely to recognize their small victory, a reminder that New Yorkers would persevere. In actuality, it was an opportunity for Doom to bond with the public and later reveal the superheroes that had listed, creating more pressure against those that had not.

Alexis Chamberlain was not supportive of Doom’s plan, clearly stating that Doom would only further isolate his supporters and encourage the overall distrust, but her opinion was completely ignored. Doom personally ensured that invitations were sent out to every superhero and resident, gathering the largest audience he possibly could. The party would be a success and his plan flawless as they all had been thus far.

Weeks later, guests began arriving to Doom’s celebration, and staff circled closely around, handing out food and beverage. The demons were kept at bay by Doom’s small personal military (and his orders), allowing a much safer environment, and the curfew was lifted for the evening. From above, Doom kept a close eye on the guests, not yet revealing his presence. He wanted this night memorable, he wanted the civilians complicit, and that would take time. Their tension and skepticism would have to be released.

Live music began playing loudly and Doom continued watching, waiting for the opportune moment for his plan to begin.

How to participate in the event:

Currently, Doom is just intending for people to enjoy themselves. Your character can find a date, attend with friends, watch the band, dance, eat, etc. We encourage people to post closed and open starters (keeping in mind our rules regarding this) and just have some light threads! Why so serious?

Parties were meant for merriment, designed in order to celebrate after a great victory. In this case, however, it seemed as if the entire city was simply celebrating the fact that they were still alive, taking advantage of the extended curfew that night in order to have the most fun that they had been able to partake in since before it was revealed the city was in another dimension. Thor understood some of it, or at least attempted to, but truly the only reason that he had bothered to show up was because he knew that his teammates would be there. True to form, he found Clint at the banquet table, and Thor wordlessly joined him in picking up as many of the appetisers as he could and sampling each one.