#thecertifiedass

Azazel comes home to the sight of his barely 21 year old son hanging from the stairs by his tail, looking hung over and exhausted, and the remnants of what could only be assumed to have once been a party Kurt wasn't supposed to be throwing. The speakers are still going but have long since blown out and the flashing multicolored lights have died out, indicating the party had started a while ago and simply hadn't stopped until Azazel was due back from his trip. Unfortunately for Kurt it would seem he had not enhereted his father's intelligence, only his mutation

The sun was rising gracefully on the beach as the gentle waves lapped the shore. The whole scene was so calm and inviting on the side he was facing, that this path could only lead him to a great new morning...

Unfortunately, his house was in the opposite direction from this almost magical view... That meant his morning wasn't going to go so well.

The first thing that should have alerted him to the 'situation' was the fact that he could see holes in the walls of their house from more than 20 paces away.

A trail of passed out Blue Bamfs, surrounded by candy wrappers, led him to the epicentre of the chaos. His Red ones, who had been travelling with him, tried to shake some of them awake but to no avail : All they managed to get out of them were a few mutterings that could be translated as "No more taxi rides out of the party".

That made him frown.

'So much for a relaxing walk on the beach.'

As he crossed the unusual trail to the entrance of his house, a dozen or so footprints of varying sizes in the sand gave him a hint of what had happened, but what they could not do was prepare him for what lay behind the door...

His eyes found it hard to focus on just one thing.

The Red Bamfs who accompanied him inside found themselves in a similar situation : Those who weren't all wide-eyed and aghast at the sight before them scattered to assess the damage. A few Red Bamfs mechanically unplugged the speakers, their eyes never leaving the scene that welcomed them home.

Finally, Azazel's eyes focused on something or rather someone. Hanging upside down from the stairs by his tail like a damson plum, just as passed out as his little counterparts outside.

Azazel was impressed. In the worst possible way.

He kicked the soft mattress off the divan and landed it right under his son. This startled his Bamfs and brought them back to the present. He gestured for them to hold the half-discarded hammock on the floor a few feet above the mattress, which they managed by holding onto to some furniture.

'Let's get this over with.'

On today's job : Take out a specific mutant target in the middle of a busy street.

While it wasn't an unusual request, it didn't change the fact that he has always felt uncomfortable walking in crowds. Apart from the obvious reason, it came with its fair share of issues : Too many unfamiliar faces popping in at once then disappearing out of his field of vision. Too many different noises and voice pitches condensing into one incoherent gibberish. Too many smells of various degrees, from strong to mild, from nauseating to plain weird, making it the most confusing scent cocktail. None of these, however, were really the reason why he wanted to get this job done as quickly as possible and move on to some better place.

No, the main reason, and objectively worst part of it all, was that this had to be in Florida. The fabled trickster God's playground. The land where the press hunts for crimes that will inevitably become famous out of state.

If he was going to do this right, there could be no mistakes, and everything had to pass under the press' radars as the most mundane event of the day.

According to his investigation, his target at this time of the day was far ahead of the street he was striding through. He would do it swiftly, then switch his target's wallet with the 'fake' one in his back pocket to hide who truly 'unexpectedly passed away' today. It was an ordinary wallet with all things considered : It had an ID, emergency contact details, a medical insurance card, bills and change totaling 100$, ... The only notable detail about it is that it couldn't possibly be his own.

He made himself as unassuming as humanly possible in the crowd while some bystanders walked closeby, some skipped behind him, some just ran past like it wasn't 97°F, ... Children never seemed phased by this kind of weather until it was too late.

'If I'm not careful enough, I might accidentally step on a kid if most wander off from their parents like this one...'

Strangely enough, he felt... Lighter. Reflexively, he patted over the inside pocket of his jacket before moving to his pants'...

And realizing the fake wallet was gone.

He abruptly stopped on his tracks, causing an old lady to dump into him and nearly fall over if he hadn't caught her at the last second and brought her back to her feet. "Oh my! Thank you, Dear. But don't worry about little old me and go follow your daughter before she gets lost. She looked so excited to go to the aquarium ! She tripped a few times to catch up with you but always got up like a champ ! "

His mind momentarily found itself stuck on the daughter part of her sentence before suddenly understanding what actually went down a few seconds ago.

Being pickpocketed by a child should have been the least surprising thing to happen to him in Florida, yet here he was. Absolutely dumbfounded by the absurdity of the situation.

He found himself simply nodding to the old lady then left without a word. He reached the Florida Aquarium in less than 5 minutes after finally getting out of the busy street.

Seeing no trace of the strange white-haired girl, he walked past the big Devil Ray statue, got to the counter and paid the entrance fee with the money from his wallet. He went in and started looking around for the little thief.

'She hasn't been there for long so she couldn't have wandered off that far. Now, where would a small child go in such a big-...'

As if to answer, a map of the place suddenly faced him.

'... Of course.'

When he reached the aquarium's Petting Zoo, he took a quick look around, trying to spot any usual white hair among the young visitors until...

'There she is... At the corner of the tank with the most rays.'

“Hey new guy. I’m Heather I’m with management. I’ll be your character handler for the first little while. Are ya decent? I know the suit can be a challenge to get into… do you need a hand?” She calls through the door.

@get-it-together-heather

A "Nothankyou." came out far too quickly and high-pitched for his liking, but having any outside intervention, even in good intention, be involved right now would make all this planning go to waste.

While he wasn't shy by any stretch of the imagination, Azazel would rather keep his cover as an ordinary human employee with no criminal record for as long as possible... Something easier said than done, especially with a face as recognizable as his, if not by the staff then by their advanced animatronics' facial recognition.

Going around in the full body costume of this Pizzaplex's mascot should really make blending in during his assignment like a walk in the park. However, his cover's tasks required lots of movement and agility: Having no makeup on or a slimmer mask to don under, should the top part he just placed on his head slip during any performance, his only mean of hiding his identity will be gone and with it came time for an escape

By foot

To the closest exit.

Power-nullifiers are truly the bane of every superpowered individual's existence... Or at least most of them, he guessed.

He sincerely hoped the urgency in his voice was mistaken for genuine surprise at the question rather than any kind of incriminating secretiveness.

Adjusting the tiniest top hat known to Mankind on his "head", he came to the door readying himself to what would be his next obstacle to overcome: An eager manager.

"Hello, it took awhile but it should be alright." He declared as he finally opened the door. "How do I look? Have I forgotten anything from the accessory set?"

He was about to do a little spin on himself to present all the angles before he stopped dead on his tracks to ask.

Kurt sits at the kitchen table nursing a coffee, a splitting headache and upset stomach, completely hungover from getting super drunk while temporarily evil

As he was preparing his coffee, still in a complete brain fog, he failed to notice a small red presence in the corner of the room, watching his every movement.

... Nor did he notice it sitting by the coffee pot he was using.

... Or when it was staring at him from across the kitchen table he was currently sitting at.

"Do our every meeting need to include you being hangover from now on?"

I mean leaving him with a bullet in his back was a new low even for her.

Erik had told her to go settle in to the building they had captured and she turned on the tv to try to get her mind off things.

Of course the missile crisis was on every channel.

She sighs, pulling her knees up to her chest.

@the-realraven-darkholme

Another day, another job to attend to.

This time, it was some basic equipment relocation. 'Leave this to the mutant who can be at two places at once. What's the heavy lifting about it anyway?' Declared their new mighty leader who could lift everything, all at once, off the ground, with a simple flick of the wrist.

It was an approximation of what was said, of course, but the message was clear as day, even though it had all been decreed in the dead of night.

Still, it was a nice change of pace, especially after the last task he had been assigned to... Truthfully, fighting a blue bear in the sky was one of life's most unexpected throws at him, and he had been through much already.

On his last trip, he had been told to bring a passenger along with the remaining box: The newest recruit, Mystique, a woman with a resolved gaze and steady walk.

The scene shifted, and they were both thousands of miles away. Undeterred, she quickly settled in the new operating room and, without a word, began fiddling the many devices there. With a shrug, he left to finish what he started.

As he placed the last contents of the box in their rightful place, he began hearing an unfamiliar voice a few rooms down from where he was.

The operating room.

The warning alarms in his head quickly died down when the voice abruptly cut, changing to another, then another, then another...

Calmly reaching the operating room, he leaned against the door frame and looked over the new recruit, now curled up and sighing at the turned on TV set.

"You set it all up?" He genuinely marvelled before adding. "You'd have to teach me the ropes."

He walked up to the English roll arm sofa she sat on and rested his elbows on top of the backrest by her right side. Even from this angle, he could see some uneasiness in her position.

Raven had been keeping herself occupied by playing pretend again. But at least this time she doesn’t have to hide her brilliance.

“I’m going out John.”

“Oh?”

“For a case.”

“Shall I come with you then Holmes?”

“Not today my dear doctor. I’m afraid I would bore you. It’s a lot of standing around and waiting. Nothing fun for your little chronicles.” She lies pulling on her greatcoat.

“Well- alright.” John replies.

“It’s a lovely day. Perhaps you should call on your lady friend… haven’t seen her around for a while.”

“I might do just that.”

Raven as Sherlock treads down the streets of London. She was about to follow a lead right into a den of vipers. She had to play this one carefully.

She takes a cab to a lavish building. And raps on the door giving the password.

She’s admitted into the building by silent security with firearms at the ready.

This has to be the right place.

@the-realraven-darkholme

Dim lights seemed to go hand in hand with this kind of club and there was an obvious charm to them. They hid the rather libertine activities partaking this place, yet masked none of its exuberance, which outdid what was presented on its outside.

After all, it was home to the one and only Phoenix society.

She was "welcomed" by two guards on both sides of the entrance, their faces hidden by identical red masks. They wore white gloves and the back of their black tailcoats was longer than usual, perhaps a specific characteristic of their job's uniform.

In the middle of the hall stood a third person: He was taller, equally well-dressed and masked like the guards. However, these two remained at their post when she went deeper into the club while he strode to her confidently, meaning they might not be on the same rank or simply held other functions.

Only once he reached her did he finally speak.

From @the-realraven-darkholme:

Part 1 - Quick question

Part 2 - Planning an investigation...

Part 3 - ... Or a trip ?