In an open room with boxes scattered everywhere, Amelia lay on her couch with a large glass of red wine. She'd been flicking through the channels, desperately trying to find something to watch on her very basic cable plan. All that she could really watch was The News, Bad Sitcoms, and more News. Naturally, she opted for The News channel, and this time it actually looked interesting. She didn't really expect to see a scene out of an action movie unfolding right before her eyes, especially considering that New York City had more Super Heroes than any city in the U.S. from what she'd heard, but it seemed they weren't doing their job very well, because some... Robo chick?! was easily taking down everyone that came her way. It seemed the News Helicopters were the only ones safe in this instance. They reported that it was a bank robbery, and so far no one had success with taking down who they called The Countess. Amelia smirked, figuring the armored woman must be a local in the streets by the way they so casually addressed the villainess. She hadn't planned on going out today, or even unpacking, but she couldn't just sit around and watch while the cops and Superheroes got their asses handed to them.

Amelia slid off of her couch, smiling sheepishly at the fact that she was already scantily clad in her silver and white costume. She exited her house completely unseen, even by the people who passed as she slid onto the seat of her invisible motorcycle. She flicked on the police station, and immediately listened in since she had already programmed it to her new city. It probably seemed like a bad idea to drive an invisible vehicle in a city like this, but she figured it would be perfectly safe since a car would do more damage to anybody on a motorcycle. She could easily protect herself if an accident happened.

It didn't take long before she arrived at the scene of the crime, a large bank surrounded by wailing sirens and spot lights from the the News Copter above. Amelia slid by unnoticed, and leaned against the wall nearest The Countess, observing the woman curiously. "So, what sci-fi movie did you get rejected from?" She asked sincerely, though her words were clearly meant to taunt her. She giggled lightly, pushing off the wall and walking in a slow circle around her, her arms folded.

Another day, another flawless robbery. The Countess, as she was called by the media - personally she hated the name, but it was oddly fitting, was in the midst of yet another robbery. Unlike the hapless normals who held up banks with such joke devices such as guns, The Countess wasn't doing this for fun, wasn't doing this to line her own pockets. Her pockets were lined enough; all the money from this robbery would be cleaned and used to fund more projects, projects she couldn't afford to get back to her. New York City was home to superheroes all with a desire to hide their alter egos, and the same held true for the villains. And as far as villains went, few were as notable or all over the mass media than The Countess.

It helped that she had yet to be stopped, had yet to be arrested or brought to justice. The Countess, adorned in an exo-suit that was equal parts mechanical and form-fitting bodysuit, was unlike the everyday villains, the ones who used their abilities in increasingly stupid ways due to their God complexes and sense of immortality. The Countess, contrary to the news reports, wasn't technically a super villain. She had no 'real' super powers, no fire conjuration, no flight, no rapid healing. But that's what gave her the strength her villain peers lacked. The Countess, before first stepping into the world of heroes and villains, did her homework. For months, years, she studied the heroes in the city and used her resources specifically to create the suit she was wearing. a suit tailored to counter the annoying and self righteous heroes, including the normals like police officers.

And so here she was again, in the midst of robbing a bank, the police cordoning off the area, interested crazy people trying to take photos, the news overhead providing minute-to-minute coverage. A bank robbery turned circus. Off in the corner was the unconscious body of some costumed hero who had arrived on scene. He lasted thirty seconds, and only that long because The Countess was toying with him. Others stepped up to earn their glory, every hero wanted to be the one to take down The Countess. It would skyrocket the lesser known heroes to instant stardom. It was cute how many tried. Things were going well, despite the annoying buzz of the chopper and the wailing sirens.

Currently, The Countess was tossing another unconscious hero to the side as she made her way towards the vault. She stuck out her hand, the blue gear on the neck of her suit lit up like a Christmas tree and began to spin. A dark blue beam shot from her gloved hand towards the vault, and she yanked, the door forced open from sheer magnetic force. In front of her were stack of money, the prize. Another successful robbery.

She stopped, hearing the taunts of an unfamiliar voice. The Countess turned, her face covered by a faceless mask. An unknown. The Countess hadn't ever seen this woman before, and judging by the costume she would have remembered if she had ever seen her. Another wannabe hero. They flocked around her like flies. "Strip club is around the corner," The Countess shot back, her voice coming out muffled and mechanical and just menacing enough to be taken seriously as a threat, "Either get back there or you'll be looking for a job where you can get paid to dance in a full bodycast."

The Countess had never been defeated. What could one new person possibly do to change that?

The Silver Heart balled her hands into fists as the woman responded with taunts of her own, and they were clever too, which made it worse. She knew her costume was sexy, that was the whole point. Nobody would recognize her if they ever saw her as Amelia, the sweet little nurse who wouldn't hurt a fly, or so they thought. She wasn't one to lose her temper, and though The Countess' insults did cause her heart beat and body temperature to rise, the real reason she was about engage her was because she clearly wouldn't go down without a fight. Still, she did have to wonder how effective she would be against a suit of armor. Guess it was time to find out.

"That's cute." She giggled, her lips twisting into a smirk. "But, why dance there, when I can dance right HERE?" She responded, her voice full of confidence, yet still having that taunting and playful tone to it. Within a split of second saying that, The Silver Heart faded out of the view of anyone watching. Her slender form moved swiftly around the Suited Woman before she launched herself into the air, sending a blast of her force field projection forward like a shock wave in the shape of a giant fist. It wasn't invisible, in fact, it looked like a soft glass sculpture. If her attack landed, The Countess would enjoy meeting the pavement outside of the bank, where the News Copter lights would shine down on her, and Silver would look down at her without revealing herself.

Behind the mask, The Countess rolled her eyes. Another worthless hero spouting off bland one liners. She didn't know who started the practice of turning an insulting phrase into a one liner or pre-battle taunt, but she hated them for it. Every hero did it. It must have been mandatory. Though she hated such lines and bravado, the reason she was rolling her eyes wasn't because of the scantily clad hero wannabe's line, it was because the scantily clad hero wannabe was just that. A hero wannabe. Another lamb come willingly to the slaughter. This was getting tiresome. The money was right in front of her, and this woman just had to get her fifteen minutes. With a sigh, The Countess turned her body towards the newcomer, ready to bring a quick end to the annoying conflict.

And then the woman vanished. Completely.

That caught The Countess off guard. Invisibility? How had she not heard of this before? Her suit wasn't geared for that. Of course, not installing infrared into her viewscreen would come back to bite her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the attack coming, turning towards it to brace herself. The Countess put her hands up, the blue engine gear spinning into action again. It was too late. The attack landed and The Countess was sent backwards, tumbling out of the bank and onto the street outside. She hit the ground, harder than she would've liked, but she got to her feet.

"So that's your game, then? Hide and seek? A child's game for a childish person. Hiding. Like a coward. All you insipid do-gooders are cowards. Instead of making a difference in the world, you instead seek fame. Fortune. Glory. Give it up. Run away and hide. You're just going to end up like all the others." The Countess spoke, all the while the engine on her back powered up. She jabbed both of her arms forward, the blue magnetic beam latching onto the circular door to the vault. With a strong yank, The Countess removed the door from the vault. She began to spin the circular door around like a lasso, like a sling, like a discus. But instead of throwing it, she continued to spin it, spinning it around in a circle, altering the heights, with the goal of making contact. Just because the woman was invisible didn't mean she was invulnerable. Once the door stopped spinning, once it made contact, she would know.

The Countess' obvious annoyance at The Silver Heart's invisibility caused a grin to form on her lips, and her heart to be warmed. It was quite amusing how she tried to insult her invisibility powers. Seemed someone didn't like not being able to finish things quickly, and maybe there were just a little afraid they had finally met their match. Really, she wondered what kind of lines she spouted to the Super Heroes before her that didn't finish the job. It must have inflated the Robo-chicks ego to think that she was unbeatable.The way she talked like she knew it all... It just set her blood on fire.

"Oh, and in your free time you're just the good little samaritan, aren't you?" She chuckled loud enough for The Countess to hear, but stopped when The Countess started whipping the vault door around. Silver Heart barely managed to dodge being hit by the door. With her quick reflexes, she maneuvered out of the way by doing a back roll, and then a back hand spring to an area not as high-risk, though she was still uncomfortably close to The Countess. Panting slightly, her hands went to her hips as she rolled her eyes at the spectacle of a woman before her. "Come now. If you drop that door, maybe I can take you out for coffee or something? Just us girls." She said, once again taunting the woman with her crystal clear voice as she looked for a way... Anyway to get close to the woman without being hit by that door.

Seeing an opening, but not willing to get that close without a distraction, The Silver Heart got an idea. She rushed at The Countess, sending another fist shaped projectile at the villain.

The Countess scoffed following the sarcastic comment from Super Stripper. How little the scantily clad woman knew. The Countess, or rather the woman under the suit, was a total good Samaritan. Valerie Cartier was on the cover of business magazines, had been on television, and all because her name was on a rather tall building in the city. A building that ran a national corporation. It started as a start up. When Valerie took over from her parents, it had blossomed into an institution, and with Valerie's guidance, it had grown into a household name. The Cartier family had a media empire. They bought out smaller cable networks and periodicals and over time turned them into profitable ventures. The cartoons that families watched with their kids? The channel they were broadcast on was owned by Cartier. The gossip rags? Cartier. Cartier was a premier name in media, which was ironic considering that the C.E.O. absolutely hated the media and their vulture-like coverage of every little event.

But mainly, The Countess was scoffing towards the comment because Valerie Cartier always made charitable donations to the hospital where her father died. They named a wing after her family, even, Was it irony that a well-off media mogul was secretly living a life of crime, or was it simply because her intellect was put to better use devoted to evil deed than it was having another shareholder's meeting or deciding which cartoon to push toy sales of.

Regardless, that was neither here nor there and The Countess didn't so much as respond to the heroine's remark. Taking the bait and talking was how lesser villains lost. Never talk. Shoot first. Then talk. Talking was what the hero was doing, some remark about coffee - what a foul beverage that was. The Countess yanked the door, stopping its spinning. Another projectile was headed her way. The Countess slammed her hand downward, the door hitting the ground and piercing the concrete, standing upright, jammed into the ground, creating a shield from the projectile.

Not wanting to stay behind the shield, The Countess thrust her right arm outwards. The engine on her back spun into a silver color and a silver beam shot from her palm, attaching to the roof of the bank. The Countess shot upwards, following the trajectory of the silver beam. Before landing on the roof, the villain broke the beam, her engine spinning into a red color now. She brought her hands together, clapping, sending an aural shockwave downwards. The watching public covered their ears, the noise sounding like a high pitched shrieking, almost like a banshee, the intent of the attack to determine location.

The Silver Heart stopped in her tracks as the The Countess made good use of the vault door to block her attack. She was disappointed that her projectile didn't connect with the suit of armor, but also glad, for the woman had stopped slinging that door around. It was probably best she kept her distance anyway, since The Countess was now powering up her suit. She didn't know what to expect, but still, prepared herself for an attack just in case the villain attacked her. She wasn't sure what all that suit could do, but she imagined the possibilities were endless.

She's...she's running? The Silver Heart darted forward towards the bank, plotting to stop the woman who was once again charging up her suit. This time it was red, and that immediately alarmed the scantily clad hero. She stopped in front of the bank, figuring out a way to get on the roof. A platform raised beneath her feet, and she concentrated on lifting herself up. Unfortunately, she had an only gotten several of the ground until a shrieking, unbearable sound broke her train of thought. The platform beneath her feet disappeared, and she landed on both feet, a sharp pain shooting up through her legs. "Ugh!" She groaned, covering her ears with both hands, her invisibility ability switching on and off. It was hard to concentrate on being both invisible, and making a force field at the same time.

Perfect. Well, almost. The Countess' suit was not tailored to combat someone with the power of invisibility, the dirty trick that it was, but where the suit failed, the real power of The Countess prevailed. Her mind, her intellect, was her true weapon. Though her attack was typically used for diversions or to incapacitate an opponent to make a quick escape, in a pinch such as this it was used as a slight form of echolocation. And it had worked as she thought. Judging by the flickering of the invisible annoyance, it seemed the girl was still green. Still unable to adapt to the situation. And that would be the advantage needed for The Countess to seize victory.

"Go home, before you get even more embarrassed." The Countess mocked as she came to a landing on the ground, her suit absorbing most of the force from the impact. Her gaze was affixed to the cowering coward covering her ears, and behind the face-obscuring mask, The Countess was smirking. Was there any sight better than seeing 'good guys' or 'good girls' in this case in pain? On the precipice of defeat, just waiting for that final, ending push? The engine on the back of her suit spun up again, lighting up red once more, but this time her left hand also began to hum with vibrations and faintly glow red.

"GO HOME!" The Countess shouted as she jabbed her left hand forward towards the spot where the hero was covering her ears. The punch didn't come out at a superspeed, but a normal, typical punch. But should the punch hit, the force would be felt thanks to the power behind it from the engine.

The Silver Heart's eyes never left The Countess' as the woman jumped down, spouting something about going home and embarrassment. By this time, she had given up on maintaining her invisibility since she had already been discovered cowering from the annoying sound coming from that suit, but she was still a bit disoriented from it all. Once the Countess landed near her, The Silver heart had prepared for anything from the villain, which is why the punch came as no surprise to her. She didn't want to be hit by it, even if it wasn't some super punch, it would still hurt from the force of the engine and the mechanical suit The Countess wore. Shifting slightly on the ground, she rose to her feet to meet the punch... Except, it didn't hit her. The fist crashed into a near invisible wall right in front of her similar in appearance to the punches she threw earlier.

She didn't have to, but she raised a hand forward to command the wall to move forth and possibly push the evil woman backwards to put some space between them. She did several back flips, and then sent several giant fists forward once she disabled the force field. The Silver Heart knew this was her fight to win.

" Give it up! Your time here is over. " She said coldy, throwing one last punch towards the woman as the news copters shined their spotlight on both masked women. The hero couldn't help but smirk at all of the attention. It must have been the first fight the city witnessed where someone didn't die immediately.

The girl was nothing if not resourceful as the punch didn't make contact with the hero as intended, instead hitting air. But both of them knew it wasn't air that she had hit, air didn't cause a punch to come to a deadstop, after all. Cowardly tactics. Afraid to dirty that face with a bit of blood. Hiding behind the invisible like the coward she truly was. The Countess merely scoffed. If the supposed hero was just going to take the cowardly way out rather than take a punch, rather than engage in a fair fight, so be it. If the hero was willing to play unfairly, so, too, would the villain. And the best part of being the villain was that her code of ethics was radically different.

The Countess was rocked back, the suit taking the brunt of the damage from the fist, but though shaken, she remained standing, with slightly wobbly knees. "It's almost cute how you think you've won." Behind the mask, The Countess was grinning. Devilishly. The engine on the back of her suit began to spin, its color blue once again. Before another invisible attack was sent her way, The Countess thrust her arm upwards, towards the overhead news chopper. She was pulled off the ground and sent slingshot up towards the chopper, yanking off the door with a pull of her hand. The door tumbled down to the ground, the glass shattering as it hit. The Countess stood in the chopper, dangling an innocent cameraman.

"What's it gonna be, hero?" The Countess spoke, though it was doubtful she was speaking to anyone other than herself and the terrified innocents aboard the chopper. "Save the citizens or stop the villain." With a laugh, she tossed the cameraman from the chopper, and then turned and kicked another citizen out as well. The pilot was next, he was grabbed by the neck, though he struggled, he, too, was tossed casually out the side. Three bodies falling towards the ground. The Countess sat in the pilot's seat of the chopper and gave a final and rude gesture to the hero. She wasn't going to stick around to see what the 'hero' would do.

Not when it was the perfect time to mount an escape.

Silver smirked as her attacks came into contact with The Countess and nearly knocked her off her feet. This chick didn't stand a chance, but still she insisted on prolonging the inevitable. Clearly The Countess didn't know that her gadgets and gizmos were no match for a True Hero's raw talent. The Silver Heart braced herself as the Countess powered up her engine, possibly ready to make a pathetic run for it. She had learned that blue was harmless, and red was the color to watch out for. Simple. What she didn't anticipate was that woman latching onto the news copter above. The Silver Heart's heart raced as the villainess yanked the door off and threw it to the ground. She jumped back and shielded herself from the glass with a quick raise of the arm. She couldn't bring herself to take her eyes off of the scene that was unfolding, though instead of looking worried, she jumped back into character. It just never ceased to amaze her how easily The Countess threw one after the other out of the copter, despite their begging and pleading. Stuff like that just made her want to pummel that robot's face in even more, but not tonight... That coward was leaving, and she had a job to do.

Raising her hand out of habit, three bubble like constructs engulfed each civilian that was thrown from the newscopter. It was foamy to the touch and as a result would feel like landing on a memory foam mattress. Slowly, she lowered the still screaming news crew to the ground with a sigh. Just up ahead she could still see the hijacked helicopter, but there was no use in going after that witch now for she was certain they would meet again.

Suddenly, there were flashing lights in her face and people had come out of their hiding places to surround her with questions like, "Who are you?!" and "Any last words for The Countess?!" Naturally, The Silver Heart pulled a vanishing act and slipped through the shocked crowd completely unseen. She didn't feel like answering their questions, they'd seen enough of what she could do to answer for themselves.

Now would be a good time to see a pleasant side of the city.

Amelia opened the rear tail bag of her Ducati Monster to retrieve her cellphone. With a simple click of a button, her phone was powered back on and she was already sending a text to someone about some much needed drinks. It was a Friday night, so it was the perfect opportunity to go out and unwind after a long day of volunteer work. Sighing, she hopped onto her bike and sped home to get changed.

The Countess didn't bother checking to see what the new hero did, but judging by the fact that she was able to stay in the air and not be pulled back or rocked by some invisible...thing, she figured her gambit worked. Such a weakness in those heroes, putting the lives of innocents above all else. Were the roles swapped, The Countess would have let the three die. A body count of three to prevent a higher body count down the line is an acceptable loss. Heroes and their idiotic morals. The Countess wasn't a trained pilot, but the beauty of having a bodysuit tailored specifically to counteract heroes meant that it was constantly upgraded. Like a computer program. While flight, as in the unaided variety, wasn't one of those programs, an understanding of technology was. Not enough to control it, but enough to know about yaw, pitch, roll, and various other flight based terminology. Which really didn't help her behind the helm of a chopper.

The Countess knew how to land. She didn't know how to fly.

The landing was easy. Guiding the helicopter as best she could, she hovered over the Hudson River and jumped out. She hit the water before the helicopter did, and she could hear the grinding and gnashing of metal hitting the water and breaking. The villain swam, aided considerably by her suit - her engine furiously spinning its blue color allowing for swifter movement underwater. She surfaced, quickly shooting her hand out and pulling the curious citizen to the ground with a yank of her hand. When the man hit the ground, The Countess strongly punched the back of his head and then pushed him into the river. He would drown eventually.

"I need a car." she spoke into her mask. A male voice replied in the positive as she continued walking. She had followed the river in the helicopter to a woody forest area, perfect for re-integrating with society. No traffic. No on-lookers. A dirt road that connected with the main streets in a few miles. It wasn't how she had planned to escape, but it would have to do. After around ten minutes, a red Jaguar F-type pulled up next to her, kicking up dirt behind its tires. A masked man in a fancy suit stepped out and held the door open for The Countess. "Take a cab back," she said to the man before speeding off.

In the car, she tapped a few buttons on her wrist and the mask came off. Her black hair began to blow in the breeze. Her tanned face was sweating slightly and her dark blue eyes held a look of anger. When she returned to her home, someone was getting fired for this serious lack of oversight. A new hero in her city? Unacceptable. She wanted to know everything, her name, her REAL name, occupation, history, age, everything. And so she drove fast, speeding along the road like a madwoman. Which, technically, she was.

And soon she would make that idiotic hero pay for such an embarrassment.

Amelia went home and prepared for a night of fun with an old colleague, Brian. She'd met him during her years in the nursing school program and they stayed tight ever since. Now that she had relocated to his city, he planned to take her out and show her around New York. It was safe to assume that the two were best friends considering Brian was the only one Amelia ever told about her secret; not just about her powers, but about the other woman too. Amelia shut the door behind her after she got dressed in a form fitting white "Coke" tee, dark wash skinny jeans, and red pumps. She didn't know where Brian planned to take her, but heels always dressed a casual outfit up...and she was just too tired from that fight to put any real effort into her looks.

A loud honk sounded from outside of Amelia's house, prompting her to walk outside. Amelia waved at Brian from her porch before getting inside of his car, a steel grey bmw - nothing fancy. Before she even got the chance to greet her friend he immediately cut in, skipping all formalities with his long time friend. "I saw you on TV. Can we just talk about Silver's outfit for a minute? When did you get so...sooo?" He couldn't seem to put his finger on it and pulled out of the drive way, looking to be contemplating something. "I got tired of wearing a cat suit, it get's hot you know. Besides, I like my new outfit...I made it myself." Amelia said proudly as she rifled through her purse for a travel sized hair brush. "I never said I didn't like it, it's hot. Hell, it may be the only reason you beat The Countess tonight." He joked, stopping at a red light. "You know she's never lost a fight? Heroes here drop like flies, so I'm glad it was you who gave her a run for her money, literally." He chuckled to himself, his eyes focused on the road ahead.
"No. I didn't know that... She sucks anyway, so it's not surprising that she lost to me." Amelia didn't seem to like Brian's comment too much, but she knew he was only kidding with her. She finished brushing her long blonde hair into place and shoved her brush into her purse.

They pulled up in front a small bar...Well, it looked small from the outside, but there was quite the line forming behind the velvet ropes. Amelia shut the door behind her, and instead of waiting in line, she followed Brian inside without any hassle from the bouncers. Brian lead her to a booth in the back of the bar where they could sit down.

"You really think The Countess sucks? I bet she's pretty hot behind that mask." Brian whispered, but then hollered like he had said the funniest thing in the world. He earned a glare from Amelia for that comment. "Yeah, but she got her ass-kicked. That makes her unattractive in my books." She said coolly, a smirk on her lips as she eyed the drink menu.
"Want to go dancing after this? There's a club upstairs."

The Cartier mansion was practically an institution in the city and had been since its construction a few decades ago. Though called a mansion, it wasn't gaudy or annoyingly huge. In fact, it looked more like some sort of small institution, like a nursing home or a middle school. It was wider than it was tall, due to the amount of rooms contained within. The rooms were because all of the staff at the Cartier mansion were required by contract to live and work solely on the premises. The servants had their own wing and based on their position, their hours were different. Kitchen staff, such as cooks and dish hands, operated under different hours than the cleaning staff. Every staff member was required to wear uniforms, a simple black outfit with dress slacks, even the women. And masks. Everyone wore masks.

It was a precaution. On the very, very, very small chance of The Countess' identity being exposed, the staff would be able to disavow any involvement. No one knew the identity of each other. But everyone inside the mansion knew the identity of The Countess. Of course, that ran the risk of a staff member running and exposing the truth, but The Countess had taken care of that. And not just from the legal contract.

The real mansion was underneath, past the basement. It was there that The Countess spent most of her time when she was back home. It was here where her main facilities were situated. A work lab. A monitoring station. A library full of information on every person she had bested. The essentials.Only two people were allowed down there. The Countess and her sole confidant, Nicky. Nicky was streetwise. His eyes and ears were The Countess', and he was good at gathering information. It's why he was so trusted. It was why he didn't have to wear a mask. It was Nicky who greeted Valerie as she entered the basement lair,

"Find out everything about Stripper Girl. I want a full dossier on my desk tomorrow morning. Set up a meeting with Channel 5. I destroyed one of their helicopters, inform them that Cartier Communications would be willing to replace it if they merge with us. Have Baxter bring a car around, I'm going out. And if I see a camera anywhere near me, you're fired." Valerie gave her commands as if she was saying hello, and Nicky silently nodded and wrote everything down, underlining the important bits.

Nicky immediately set out on his tasks while Valerie ascended the stairs to the mansion proper, her house staff bowing as she walked past them. A quick shower followed, with Valerie constantly thinking about the day's events. THe day's embarrassment. This could cause problems. The Stripper Girl had to be taken care of and fast, before some other hero decided to creep in on Valerie's city. And this was her city. After the shower, Valerie put on a dark blue one piece dress and dark stockings. Heels completed the ensemble. Her hair was short, but dropped to her upper neck and was shining. As shining as black hair could get, anyway. Without a word to her staff, she left the front door and into the waiting sports car.

Valerie parked across the street from a night club. The drinks weren't great, but they didn't water anything down and they weren't outrageously priced. The bouncer let her pass, causing those behind the rope to complain. Idiots, those complainers. They needed to pick up a magazine sometime. Valerie came to places like this to unwind, to enjoy a drink and to listen for the whispers of the people who recognized her. Valerie Cartier was a people person. The Countess was not. It was a shocking contrast, but Valerie had to mingle, had to make herself known even if only to throw suspicion away from her.

"White Russian - with Tia Maria, yes I can tell the difference," Valerie gave her drink order and took a seat in a booth near the back. It only took a minute before some young kid, probably still in college judging by the university t-shirt he was wearing and the bottle of Miller Light in his hand. Who ordered a domestic beer in a place like this? "Buy you a drink?" he asked, in his best suave voice.

"Already bought one. Not interested. Use the money you would use to try and pick up someone you think is desperate enough to hook up with a younger person and buy yourself a better opener. Or a better wardrobe. For god's sake, you're wearing shit you wear to a house party on campus. The fact that you even got in is alarming. Now go find someone in your age bracket. They're just as desperate as you clearly are." Valerie didn't so much as look at the guy while she spoke, and her tone never got to the malicious level, despite the clear intent behind her words. The guy left after using a certain five letter word, but none of that mattered, since following his departure, her drink arrived.

When she had finished her White Russian, perhaps then she would have some desperate soul buy her a new one. But until then, she leaned back against her booth, eyes scanning around and ears trying to listen to anything but the music.

"M'hm. Sure, but I thought you hated dancing?" Amelia lifted her eyes from the menu to see that Brian was staring, at what would be the question. Her eyes followed his, though she had turn more than she would have liked. She saw nothing of interest and sighed, but her friend continue to stare...even as she went back to minding her business. Finding the silence and awkward staring unbearable, Amelia parted her lips to speak, but just as she did so Brian finally said something. "Oh-em-gee, Valerie Cartier is here!" He whispered to Amelia, though anyone listening hard enough could hear. "What's that?" She said casually, taking a sip from her Long Island Iced Tea, glancing up at her starstruck friend. "You really need to stop being a groupie, Brian. It's embarrassing." Amelia smirked and turned the page to her menu, eyeing possible finger foods. Fighting super-villains really gets your appetite up. "If you knew who she was, you'd be a groupie too." Brian finally got enough strength to stop gazing at the woman, but only because she told some poor college kid off and he didn't want to end up in the same boat.

"Probably not. The only stars that appeal to me are the ones in the sky so don't lump me with those shallow people. Besides..." She snickered and covered her face with the menu. "It's not safe to get involved with any woman in this city. She might turn out to be The Countess!" Amelia laughed louder than she intended to, and Brian joined in...just like old times. "Not that you would have anything to worry about, since she clearly can't fight." She nearly spit her drink out at laughing so hard, but luckily she held it in and fanned herself lightly.
Brian shook his head after he was done laughing. "You need to stop. There are plenty of women in this city that aren't super-villains, and Valerie Cartier is the last person on the planet who would need to put on a giant suit and steal from a bank. She's already rich."
Amelia raised an eyebrow and took a long drink from her straw, leaning in closer to her friend. "You know how many celebrities are actually broke? They just have nicer things to show off than the rest of us." She didn't say anything more for awhile, ordering was more important.

There's a certain feeling one gets when someone is staring, and ever since Valerie walked in, she was feeling it. It takes getting used to, knowing that eyes were literally on you, but being stared at didn't bother her. Well, not enough to ruin her mood, anyway. It was when she heard people talking about her - within earshot - that she took slight offense. Valerie was no stranger to talking about someone behind their back, but she had the common sense...or common decency to do it when the target wasn't around. Valerie, in mid sip of her White Russian, moved her eyes to the booth next to her, her peripheral vision picking up that it was occupied by two people. One of whom was clearly unimpressed. And absolutely uninformed.

She had to resist the urge to laugh at the man's statement. If he actually believed that, it stood to reason that that was a common belief. Who would ever suspect that a media mogul and a yearly charity donator would be someone who casually tosses people from helicopters and drowns innocent witnesses? Granted, her charity donations were largely for tax write-off reasons, but the public didn't know that. The public didn't know much of anything. Blissful ignorance.

"You know," Valerie spoke, her head now turned to face the two - probably not a couple judging by the way they spoke to each other. It was far too casual for a married pair. "I'm not a celebrity, not in the movie star, musician sort of the word." Valerie slid out of her booth and stood next to the other booth, her eyes looking over the man and the woman who was much more interested in the greasy bar food than anything else. "Celebrities are like you two. They live paycheck to paycheck. Granted their paychecks are significantly larger, but it's true. They toss around money like they have nothing to lose. But me? I'm not a celebrity. I don't live paycheck to paycheck. I could buy this place right now, but there wouldn't be a point."

Valerie snapped her fingers and waited for a bartender to walk over. "A bottle of cristal and three glasses. Don't keep me waiting." Another snap of her fingers and the bartender ran off to fill the order. "There is, however, a point in purchasing a five hundred dollar bottle of champagne. A celebrity wouldn't do that, not to the non-rich and famous. But again, I'm not a celebrity." Without waiting for an invitation, Valerie took a seat in the booth, tilting her head as she stared towards the woman looking through the menu. "You don't want to order food from a place like this. Wouldn't want to wreck your figure for your boyfriend here."

Valerie took a sip from her White Russian, her eyes still on the other woman. Under normal circumstances, Valerie would have just let the pair continue to babble on. But they had been talking about The Countess, and Valerie was somewhat vain. Besides, the point of these trips to the 'normal' world was all about mingling. About making an impression with the working class.

So she would mingle.

Mmm, mozzarella sticks sound good right now.
Maybe chips and salsa...?
Amelia was debating between the two when Valere Cartier chimed, and unlike Brian, she didn't even look away from her menu to acknowledge the woman. She was listening however, even as she appeared to be totally uninterested...Not annoyed, just uninterested. Right off the bat, Amelia knew Valerie Cartier had to be vain to waltz over to their booth and intrude on their conversation. It wasn't like she had said anything terrible about the woman. So, why was this supposedly wealthy woman sliding into their booth, and being all cool?

Who needs a five-hundred dollar bottle of champagne anyway?! Amelia gripped her menu a bit, but her features remained unchanged for the most part, except for her lips pressing together rather tightly. She didn't like that all this mob boss had to do to get service was snap her fingers... Well, Amelia could do that too, but she had manners. Being snapped at is never a nice way to address someone, but I suppose if you're tipping well manners don't matter much.

"Oh, trust me! Lia here doesn't need to watch her figure. She gets enough exercise for the both of us..." Brian said to Valerie with a coy smile, figuring she probably had no idea what he was actually saying. He didn't really appear to be bothered by Valerie mistaking Amelia for his girlfriend either, something told him she knew they weren't dating. She's smug. Of course he knew that a business C.E.O. had to be smug, he'd seen the interviews.

Amelia set her menu down on the table and took a quick drink through her straw before finally looking at Ms.Cartier.
"I'm not like a celebrity, I don't live pay check to pay check, and he isn't my boyfriend." Amelia glared at Valerie, and then smirked. "Being single without kids goes a long way." She said as she picked up her menu, still undecided. Maybe I won't get anything after all...
"You sound like you're filling out a dating profile. Are you tryna get lucky?" Brian said to Amelia, though he was also talking about Valerie. That comment seemed to get his friend's attention again.
"Mm, no but I guess having a rich celebrity girlfriend wouldn't be so bad." Amelia laughed with Brian, seeming to ignore Valerie even as they talked about her right in front of her face.

Valerie's eyes remained focused on the menu reader. It was cute how she was so desperately trying to act unimpressed, as if somehow pretending to ignore someone gave her credibility. Interacting with people on a daily basis, a large percent of said people being movers and shakers in the world of mass media, had given Valerie a bit of insight into social interactions. She simply treated everything like a business meeting, though when it came to socializing the end goal of the meeting wasn't to secure a million dollar contract. Though it still involved numbers. Granted, if such a social call was to be made, Valerie certainly wouldn't make it here, amidst a crowd that allowed scruffy college slobs to walk around.

To that end, the menu woman was just another obstacle. A nay-sayer in a business deal who was holding out for something more beneficial. Judging from the body language, Valerie figured that the woman was clearly perturbed, or else annoyed, by the presence of someone like Valerie. Perhaps a night to unwind was being ruined. Perhaps a stressful day had been in her schedule and a club like this was doing very little to remove said stress. Maybe, and this was clearly a long shot, but maybe a bad break up had happened recently and she was still going through that 'angry at the world' phase.

Whatever it was, Valerie paid it little mind. Let the woman act as cool as she wanted to. The only one impressed was herself.

"Lia, hmm?" Valerie repeated the name given by the make at the table as she took another sip from her glass. "You don't look French, so...Italian, then. As a name, the..three hundred and fifty first most popular name for a girl as of four years ago. Or, perhaps that's just a cute nickname between friends, like 'Chuck' for Charlie or 'Dick' for Richard. Not many names have the diminutive form 'Lia', but the most popular is Amelia, which was the ninth most popular girl's name in Australia of all places as of last year. You know, Amelia, it's funny that you mention the lack of kids, and not just because it makes you sound like you're compensating. Amelia is German in origin and the meaning of the name, or one of them apart from 'industrious' is, and I am being absolutely serious here, your name means 'fertile'."

Valerie paused to let her little speech settle in, meeting the woman's smirk with a nonplussed grin shot back towards her. "Of course, I could be totally wrong, but I doubt that. Etymology is something of a hobby of mine. It's a hit at parties. Which, judging from your general attitude and desire to blow me off for whatever misguided reasons, I'll bet you've not been to many. Parties, that is. Go ahead, keep up the Little Miss Too Cool routine. You're only, what, late twenties? It stopped being cute or a desirable trait after high school, darling. And with that attitude, the only celebrity you'd ever have a shot with is a childhood star who peaked at age nine and spent his teen years on a downward spiral only to be put into rehab by age eighteen. Because he would be on the same level of maturity as you in this very moment."

Another sip from her glass.

"But even then only as a booty call. Which, hey, if you want to order greasy bar food will work out wonderfully. Because it'll make your ass balloon."

If the two of them wanted to play the catty game, so be it. Not the best use of her intellect, but it could provide amusement. For a minute or so.

The first of Valerie's speech settled in, but Amelia honestly didn't care about what her name meant, and she certainly didn't care that Valerie thought she was compensating. As far as she was concerned, if anyone was compensating, it was Valerie. The one who came into their duo uninvited with a lot of nothing to say, and clearly just liked to hear the sound of her own voice. Which came as no surprise considering most celebrities are self-entitled. The poor woman probably thought Amelia was just playing hard to get, but that was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment. Amelia simply did not get starstruck, and she had no idea who Valerie Cartier was.

After the second part of Valerie's speech, which was a lot more brash and insulting than the first part, Amelia nodded her head from side to side with a not bad look. Her feelings may have been hurt had Amelia cared at all about what this woman had to say, had she actually said anything accurate about her. None of it was true, though. Well, except that she was in her late twenties... Amelia had been to many parties - just not recently, and as for dating a celebrity? Amelia had no interest.

The last comment however, made her crack a smile. It was a pleasant, amused smile. Amelia considered putting a bubble on Valerie's head to shut her up, but it was that comment that pushed her back into the light. Valerie should consider herself lucky.

"Just between us, Valerie. Amelia likes having a fat ass. " Brian said through a chuckle.

The bartender returned after Brian's little comment, and Amelia put in her order for mozzarella sticks and chips and salsa, but after he placed the bucket of chilled Cristal down and the glasses. Amelia smirked and scooted a bit closer to Valerie, just so their arms were touching. "You know," she started, turning a bit just to look at her. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot, but that doesn't change the fact that you came over unannounced without even introducing yourself. It may come as a surprise to you, but not everyone knows...or cares about who you are. It's not an act, it's real life and this is how I always am... Now, if you're not busy later, maybe you can come upstairs and dance with us." Smirking, she leaned closer to Valerie's ear, though not too close to the woman out of respect for her personal space.

"You like to dance, right?" Amelia asked in a sweet whisper. She didn't move away from Valerie, but she did turn away to face the table. If Valerie said no, well... Amelia could easily figure out which car was hers, and make it disappear.

And the victory to Valerie. Though she hid her amused grin behind the White Russian glass - now empty following her latest sip, her body language became slightly more relaxed, leaning back against the booth and casually tossing her elbow atop the booth back, her hand dangling over the air. Loathe as she was to use such crude methods - she was sure that didn't count as 'negging' as the term went, but it was close enough. But sometimes one had to play a bit dirty to illicit a response. And if there was one thing Valerie was good at, it was playing dirty.

Granted her playing dirty tended to involve donning a mask, a form-fitting cyber suit, and potential loss of human lives.

"Is that right?" Valerie asked towards Brian, though without looking at him or even lifting a finger to acknowledge his statement. "Well, that's probably for the best. Between us, I like having a bit more to grab onto when it comes to the ass." Her response came as she was pouring herself a glass of Cristal. She flirted with the idea of pouring for the other two, but instead slid the bucket towards Brian. She wasn't a server.

Valerie was in mid-sip of the chilled champagne when Amelia scooted closer, sealing the victory in Valerie's eyes. Their skin was making contact. Granted, it was just their arms, but it was still contact. "Oh, but your friend made all the announcements and introductions for me. And he's right, you know, about the groupie thing. So many men and women practically start kissing my feet as I walk just because they think I can put them into a television show or something. As if that's how it works." Valerie shook her head, letting out a heavy sigh before returning to her regular mood. "I'm not looking for a groupie. And I meant what I said earlier. I'm not a celebrity. There's a difference between a celebrity and a media mogul. Next time you're downtown, look up. You'll see a building with the Cartier Communications logo on it. That's mine. The building."

It probably came out like a boast, though that certainly wasn't her intention. The truth had a tendency to sound like boasting when it involved money and ownership of skyscrapers. For her final act, Valerie turned her head and leaned in to Amelia's ear, closer than Amelia had been; not touching, but enough for Amelia to feel the warmth of Valerie's breath. "Hate to dance. Count me in."