"Fear is not to be tolerated!"

Ivy, of course, knew this all too well. Fear was weakness, and no one member of the 7th Sanctuary was allowed to show any signs of weakness. Ivy was inspecting her nails because she was bored; this "meeting" was just another opportunity for Tempest to make a grand display of her fury, and it had gotten boring pretty quickly. The weather outside would be scary, had Ivy not known that Tempest was just showing off. The wind was shaking the building and the rain was lashing against the roof and windows. Sighing, Ivy managed to raise her head and drag her eyes to Tempest's angry face. She did look truly furious, but Recruitment always went like this. Tempest would find young, prospective students and try to mold them to fit her needs. It made Ivy angry just thinking about it. Tempest could go out in public wearing disguises and such, while Ivy was sent to do her dirty work at night.

Tempest Godspawn continued to berate the lad. His only power was the ability to control bone marrow, and the poor boy had no idea what his limitations were. He had only just discovered his ability a year or so ago, and the super school, having never seen this before, had been of little assistance to him. Tempest had taken him under her wing with the promise that she would help him learn how his powers worked. To date, she had done nothing of the sort. His first test was to leave his girlfriend, which he had done with extreme reluctance. His second test was to find a young human child and bring him back to their meeting point, where Tempest and Ivy watched as the boy had contorted the child's bones for practice. Sickened, Ivy told Tempest later that his powers weren't humane, or, in any regard, useful. "-- Only used for torture, which isn't something Nocturne condones --" This statement earned Ivy a slap to the face. Tempest condoned torture, and that, it seemed, was all there was to the matter.

"Go! I don't want to see your face again until you can prove that you're worth it!"

Tempest dismissed him from her sight, probably for the last time. After having killed and tortured a human child, the boy would probably shy away from using his powers--or exploring them--ever again. Ivy might have. Ivy wanted to give Tempest a sarcastic round of applause, but restrained herself. There was no need to be nasty.

Tempest shot Ivy an angry look, as if she heard what Ivy had been thinking. After taking a few seconds to glare at Ivy, Tempest stormed out of the room, the rain lashing harder against the walls as she did. It was a good time for Ivy to stand, stretch, and make plans for this evening. They had no evil plots in motion as it was, and Ivy could tell that Tempest was more restless for it. Ivy on the other hand, who had been working hard for a few good years trying to stabilize their group's position, was taking the break well. She felt like she needed some relaxation time. But she did get bored, and openly admitted it, just not as often as Tempest. The others of the 7th Sanctuary had founded side projects to occupy their time, while Ivy had been given the task of doing whatever Tempest asked of her. As of late, that hadn't been too much. Ivy was the most identifiable member of the 7th Sanctuary because of her hairstyle, which she hadn't changed in many years. This led to Tempest keeping Ivy indoors during the day and all over Herron when it was dark. Ivy didn't mind.

During the time she spent walking to her bedroom, Ivy decided that she would go have a few drinks. Since she preferred Basque to every other drinking spot nearby, she would take the short walk there. Their headquarters was so closely situated to Mercury City that Ivy could easily walk to the city limits in fifteen minutes. She preferred to have someone drive her, but she didn't like to draw attention to herself.

She wore a flattering dress the shade of black and shoes that matched. The clock on her wall said that it was only a half hour till midnight, which was still early. She preferred to do most of her work in the early hours of the morning. She had nothing planned, but she knew that something would happen. It was a great feeling, one of anticipation and excitement. She looked out her window and saw that Tempest had calmed down a great deal, for there were no clouds in the sky around them. Smiling, Ivy creeped downstairs and exited the building. Her hat kept her hair hidden and her face in a shadow. She passed no one while in Herron. The majority of the residents knew better than to put themselves in harm's way by staying out late.

She was stopped outside of the nightclub by a man who looked like he could have been built of stone. He features were sharp and pale, and his expression was one of stony pride. She lifted the hat off of her head and gave the man an indignant look, for he was obviously a new hire. He let her in without question.

Basque was dark, which she liked, but noisy, which would give her a headache soon. She reached the bar within the minute and ordered a Vodka Rose, which was a mix of vodka and strawberry juice. It was her favorite drink and she didn't mind walking the entire way for it. She had taken her hat off once inside, and the barman, after the first glance, smiled at her. She had seen him, ordered from him, and flirted with him many times before. He gave her the drink and left without a word, for the club was very busy tonight.

"Busy tonight?"

Those were the first words out of Ivy's mouth when the bartender had finished tending to his customers, when he had come to stand by her. His name was Mark. He looked like he could have been a full-bred Italian, but she knew him to have been born and raised in Mercury City. He was handsome, but not roguishly so. It was a tender handsomeness that Ivy felt very vulnerable to. Maybe tonight she'd stay late and see if he would make a move.

It had, after all, been almost a month now. After the first few nights she had come to Basque, he had insisted that she only pay for her first drink. She thought that it was a very nice gesture, and considered it to be his way of taking her out on a date. Except that this way, he was working, and she didn't have to been seen slinking around with a guy that was not 7th Sanctuary material. In fact, his only ability included the power to manipulate glass. She thought it was very handy, and she knew that, with the right training and equipment, his power could be downright lethal. All he would have to do was fashion some glass bullets, or a glass knife.... But she had talked to him, and he wasn't at all ambitious, nor did he have any desire for power. It was sad, considering how useful his ability could be. A smile crossed his face.

"No more than usual," was his reply. She knew this to be a falsehood. More people were buying drinks, less people were dancing. She wanted to dance. Deep down, she always wanted to dance. She moved closer to him, rising out of her seat some, and took his bow tie in her slender fingers. "You know," she began in a quiet, barely audible tone of voice, for the noise was so great. "You really do know how to treat a lady."

She wasn't as practiced at seducing men as her fellow female 7th Sanctuary members, but she felt that she was doing a fair job. After she pierced him with a smoldering look, she felt a small breeze rustle her hair. "What the --"

Looking towards the skylight-littered ceiling, Ivy saw a figure drop one of the skylights and take off. Whatever had opened a latch in one of them wasn't keen on being seen, and this excited Ivy, far more than the prospect of hooking up with Mark. She knew that the bartender wasn't going anywhere, while this figure wouldn't always be around. Pretending that she hadn't seen anything, Ivy turned to face Mark again. He was tending to another customer.

It was then that Ivy realized what she needed to do, because only then did she realize who she was dealing with. If the figure had been who she hoped it was, then the figure wouldn't go too far away; no, it would stay and watch her like it had been for weeks.

Only a few moments later, she was being asked to dance by a random man. She turned him down with a simple question: "Why would I want to dance?"

So much for staying until closing...

Ivy wasn't sure what was happening, but it seemed as though every single man in the bar needed to ask her to dance. She took it as a sign that she needed to go ahead and leave. She didn't want to dance, least of all with men who either could "change metal in gold" or, her personal favorite, "morph milk into wine." How these men managed to convince anyone that their "abilities" were important, she would never know. And how they even got into Basque? Ivy didn't care to wonder.

All that was left was saying goodbye to Mark. She would have to wait until he wasn't busy to tell him that she was leaving. She didn't have to wait long. After a particularly picky costumer, he rushed back over to smile at Ivy, which she mirrored. She told him that she was tired and didn't feel like dancing, which was entirely untrue. She wasn't at all tired or dizzy. She was wide awake, but able to fake a convincing yawn. She paid for her first drink, told him thank you, and left. She put her hat back on her head and began the walk back to Herron.

The wind picked up a bit before Ivy realized that the temperature had gone down a few degrees. She hoped against hope that she was being followed, because she had been wanting to interact with the person. For a few weeks, she had not understood that she was being followed, she just simply knew that she could feel someone watching her. The worst part was not knowing. And now that she knew... well, she could follow her own personal procedure and figure out if she was correct or not. She plucked a flower from a small, neglected garden and began to play with it.

Really! Oh, how rude!

She was walking along slowly in the dead, peaceful silence of the sleeping city, thinking about how lonely she had been feeling for the past few weeks, wondering whether or not Tempest had retired, and still curious about whether or not her hypothesis was correct. It seemed that all of the pieces fit together well, but he was known for his skill in the art of escape, and in that, the problem arose. If no one yet had been able to catch him, her chances would be just as slim. She smiled a small, calculated smile. The only thing that she could do was to bait herself. She couldn't catch him, but he sure could catch her.

So, she waited, walking slowly so that she, as his prey, would seem more vulnerable. This change of tack wasn't exactly her favorite way to go about business, but she would do what she needed to do.

It was to no surprise, then, that all of a sudden she heard a whooshing noise and she felt herself being whisked into the air, while also being treated like some sort of rag doll, something that he could toss around carelessly and without due regard. It was when he had her settled back on her feet, and only then, that she was face to mask with The Red Herring. He wasn't an intimidatingly sized man, but she knew better than to underestimate a fellow super, especially a vigilante like him. He had to have had some amount of considerable strength in order to perform the acrobatics that he just pulled off. And he wasn't breathing hard, though she noticed that he looked rather warmer than her, and much more covered. It was then that she realized that she had lost her shoes in the transportation.

"Really! Oh, how rude!" she blurted before she could think of anything remarkable or witty to say. She knew that the impending conversation needed to go well. The Red Herring was a valuable resource and everyone knew it. She knew she needed to be diplomatic, but she was confused by her lack of knowing what to say.

((It's alright. I'm new to college and having a hard time getting on right now.))

As The Red Herring chuckled, Ivy began rubbing her hands over her arms, feeling the goosebumps that had formed all over. She listened as he spoke to her, ignoring the shiver she got when he used the word pounce. Fear was not to be tolerated. It was the first thing she learned about this world and her place in it; she wasn't likely to forget her first lesson with fear. And he wasn't exactly leaving the conversation open so that she could respond, so she had to patiently wait for him to finish his talk. He had been following her for weeks---and for what? Because he thought that she had some valuable information? This made her laugh lightly.

She smirked when he began talking about Tempest. He knew nothing about Tempest or her relationship with Ivy, and he knew nothing about how they interacted. But from the sound of it, to him, Ivy was simply Tempest's doll. So why, then, would he think that she knew something of any importance? "I don't torture children," she said in an offhand voice. She smiled. "Besides, what fun would it be if I told you what my role was? If you haven't figured it out by now I doubt that you will any time soon." She didn't break eye contact with him, either. She wasn't intimidated by him and she wanted him to know it. She found it funny that he thought that the 7th Sanctuary had some diabolical plan up their sleeve. "But I am curious..." she said, lowering her eyelids a fraction. "Why the sudden interest?"

(Sorry I've been gone for so long!)

The interrogation was getting old, fast. This wasn't as fun as she had hoped it would be, especially with him being so demanding. What was it that he wanted to know? How they controlling the city? No -- he already knew that. There were no plans. Nocturne was taking a break, Tempest was getting restless, and the others were off doing their own thing. Tempest, of course, was making her own plans... trying to build up her own little army. Ivy liked the idea of just relaxing for a little while, but no, Tempest had to keep her busy. She hadn't decided what to tell him though, because she wasn't sure what he wanted to hear.

"I honestly don't know much about Dazac. The police force isn't my side of the business, if you know what I mean." She placed her hands on her hips in a comfortable way. "But... you knew that, of course. You'd also know torture isn't my style... if you had been paying attention."

His prowling, now that he was closer, made her less anxious. She wasn't known for her strength, and he wasn't known for his violence. Plus he had no reason to cause her harm. But I've been wrong before, she thought bitterly. Looking up at the Red Herring, she tried to understand his actions. Why does he do what he does? What motivates him to get up in the morning and stalk people for fun? Shrugging inwardly, Ivy felt another shiver run up her legs as another breeze drifted past them. Then, without warning, she felt a sprinkle. She looked up, and sure enough, clouds had moved in. It didn't look like one of Tempest's storms, and Ivy could only conclude that it was a natural storm. She frowned. She didn't want her dress to get wet...

"Mr. Herring," she said in a brisk voice, "could we possibly oganize another rendez-vous? It's been a real pleasure but I honestly must be going very, very soon." Knowing that he would probably object, Ivy crossed her arms across her chest and tried to warm her arms. The Red Herring seemed like the type of guy who would want to get his way, so she knew better than to get her hopes up.