[u]May[/u]

The rain had begun to fall in Mendel. Murders? Rainstorms? And a small army of superpowered fucktards running amok.

Rain fell soft and slow on the black Thunderbird resting outside of Our Place. It had been there for a suspicious amount of time, unmolested by gangbangers or car strippers, unnoticed by the police. Perhaps two or three days, which was a subjective eternity to be motionless on the streets of Mendel. Still, this was a decent neighborhood to leave a vintage car. The sleek black steel was unblemished, not a single speck of mud or inch of rust. It was...out of place, to say the least, next to some beat up old jalopy and one of those awkward three-wheel motorcycles. The car sat silent, still, but almost alive, as it was a hibernating bear as opposed to steel and fiberglass. Someone watching very closely would perhaps notice the side mirrors twitch just a hair in either direction before the windshield wipers, stealthy as mute ninjas, squicked the front windshield totally dry. They settled back into place, the raindrops rolling off the car and keeping it far drier than it should've been under the circumstances. 

It waited quietly, mirror-sheen polish glinting in the Mendel nightlight, an almost sad loneliness across the car's perfectly maintained exterior.

[u]Cassidy May Lynn[/u]

That Whisper! A flash of irritation danced across Cassidy's features. Did Cassidy go over and interrupt Whisper's little gang games? No. No she didn't. Did she go over and whip out the sword from Whisper's sheath-and, in lieu of razor-edged steel, pull out a bouquet of flowers? No. She did none of these things. So why did the Vanguard's uppity little headmistress feel the need to interrupt Cass' fun? Besides, it wasn't like Titus had any chance of winning. Cassidy observed the confusion across his face, cobwebbed portions of his brain labelled "critical thinking" and "analysis" being forced to start up after many dormant decades of slumber. Bah. No. Fun. At all. No, maybe she wouldn't be staying in Mendel very long. These people may be interesting, but they certainly didn't have much in the way of common courtesy.

"Leave?" Cassidy Lynn murmured to herself. "The fun is [i]just[/i] getting started." Cass reached over and grabbed the bottle, the little wedding ring (shh, lemme tell you a secret-it was made of plastic) fading away into nothingness as Cassidy's little conjuration trick wore thin without her active effort. She raised the bottle to the silent bar and said, just audibly, "To debauchery!" before placing it on her lips and taking another deep tug. Of course, things were about to get rather violent within Club 76, and Cassidy had rather had enough violence for one night. As Titus ( [/i]predictably, boringly, lamely-does no one value originality anymore? Theatricality, children, let's work on it a touch[/i] ) ripped out the table, things almost seemed to blur in slow motion for the lightning-fast Cassidy Lynn. One by one, the cards flipped in the empty air, falling down towards the ground. Six different Jokers-no business cards-swirled in the empty air, prolonging their fall so the wine glasses and spoon could have a chance to catch up. Lynn closed her lips, sealing off the bubbly champagne as Titus loosed the table. 

Lynn closed her eyes and, for a heartbeat and a half, was not physically in the bar. Poof. Gone. Just like that.

A moment later she was back in her seat, the spoon and the cards falling lamely to the floor (Cass quietly nudged the spoon and flipped it back) and the wine glasses shattering, prompting a sigh from Cassidy as she lowered the bottle. There was nothing but total nonchalance across her features-a bored sort of frown on her face, emotionless eyes hidden behind equally distant mirrored shades. "Not that money's an issue here, but just on general principle, I can't pay for that. Making such a mess of things." Cass leaned over, vaguely aware of Whisper and friends probably about to engage in some well-choreographed fight scene around her, and ripped tablecloth off the table next to her. She draped it over the shattered glass, the playing cards and the silver spoon, and jerked it up quickly, leaving only an empty floor devoid of any mess behind. Cassidy, back in the days when she found gambling to be amusing (the appeal had long since worn off, as she could win rather effortlessly with the usage of her powers), was rather used to the escalation of tensions within establishments such as this. Or, as the layperson called them, bar fights. She'd found the best course of action-aside from, of course, just walking out the front door (and using the chaos as a cover to avoid paying) to be getting a front row seat to the whole mess. This, of course, ran the risk of you getting a glass bottle to the back of the skull or a haymaker to the nose, but you ran those risks walking down the street, now didn't you?

Cassidy Lynn leaned back in her seat, surveying the unfolding chaos with amusement. Really now, it seemed like resorting to violence so quickly was just barbaric. One fellow-admittedly, not a very bright one, could probably be talked into leaving without too much difficulty. She off-handedly wondered how the private investigator dame was going to react to all this-if she had the brains that PIs are generally known for, she figured that the detective would make like a tree and get the fuck out of there. But life wouldn't be any fun if everyone acted all sensibly and rationally-hence why Cassidy was enjoying sitting in the center of the hurricane. Whisper dis-and-re-appeared. Eh. Okay form, but Cassidy had seen smoother. The one fellow intercepted the flying table. That was chivalrous. He also wanted to come back and watch baseball. Baseball. Bleh. At least in football they had trick plays, or the occasional sneaky penalty kick in soccer. Baseball was far too monotone for Cassidy's liking. 

"An oaf, a ninjess, and a ballplayer walk into a bar," Cassidy murmured to herself, taking a small sip of the champagne and rolling a quarter over her knuckles (hey! where did that come from?) idly. "And the barkeep says, 'I must be [i]Mendel[/i] to serve these fools! Snare drums. Everybody laughs. Curtains."