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Sylvia jogs up the steps to the lakeside house's front porch and gives the door only a token knock before she steps into the vast foyer.  The place is sound, decades old but carefully refurbished by some careful hand, and as always Sylvia gets the feeling, even though Jack is a temporary resident, that this is his place.  This is a place for old but hale men, sound of mind and body, to take refuge in a bubble of time that still accepts them as its own.

She heads for the gymnasium.  She'll never excel beyond human parameters at the fight, but that doesn't keep her from trying.  "Jack!" she hollers, comfortable with him in the private assumption that she's his favorite, Mitzi's and Carolyn's daughter.  "Jack, today's the day!  Today's the day the student surpasses the master.  I feel it!  You're gonna get the beat-d--"  But then she hears the grunts and hisses of a fight, and her first, alarmed assumption is that Jack is under attack.

She makes herself unseen, unheard, and runs into the gym where she sees Jack trading blows with Alicia.

[I'm willing to change the scene to taste, Nestor.]

OOC: I can work with this.

Alicia's sparring with Jack, learning how to fight hurt, something that can't be practiced unless one is really hurt.

Most of the bruises have gone past the hurt stage to the sore stage, although her ribs still feel tender, a fact Jack is exploiting.

Alicia blocks yet another exploratory kick to her midsection when she pauses, her head tilted as her ears pick up Silvia's approaching voice. Jack presses the attack, and Alicia finds herself backing up in full defensive mode, her arms and legs a blur as she blocks a flurry of blows, finally doing a backflip to escape from a legsweep.

Gaining her feet, Alicia signals a pause. Getting her breathing back under control, she realizes she can't hear Silvia anymore, and guesses the cause. Once again, her mind clashes in internal debate. Acknowledge her presence, or give her her privacy?

No, she thinks angrily, I'm tired of all this pussyfooting around. Looking at Jack with a level gaze, she calls out in a conversational tone, "Evening, Sylvia."

Jack goes to get bottles of water.  "Hey, long time no see."  Jack looks around.  "And still no see."  He looks at Alicia, then tosses her a bottle of water.  "Sylvia should take a few rounds with you.  She's not as familiar with where you're hurt.  It'll be good practice for trying not to show it."

Alicia effortlessly catches the bottle, then almost drops it at Jack's words.

He doesn't know about Sylvia and me? Naw, somebody has to have given him the scoop. What's his game?

Alicia's thoughts are clear; she's wary, but remarkably relaxed. The mat is a familiar place for her, and its comfort smooths the jagged edges of her emotions.

Seeing Sylvia appear out of nowhere is always a little like getting something in your eye.  Your vision gets blurry; your eye gets itchy; and then, when you succumb to the urge to blink, there she is.  "That'd be a bad idea, Jack," she says crisply, taking a seat on the benches that line one wall.  "The only way I'd be able to hit her is by using my powers.  She wouldn't like that."

"The idea is that the two of you go at it.  Trade blows and blocks.  Combat speed.  Good practice for the both of you."  Jack takes a drink of water.

"I can't hit her.  She's like five times faster than me."

"That's why we train.  speed isn't always what makes you able to hit."  He waves her towards them, "Come on.  Ready stance, both of you."

Sylvia balks.  Teenagers are champion balkers.  She gives Jack a look like he's asking her to take out the garbage and wash the car on a Saturday night.  "If she kills me, I expect you to carry my coffin.  By yourself.  On your back.  So everyone knows what you did."

OOC: Jeebus Cluny Frog! Give me a chance to type a response, will ya?  ;D


Alicia remains silent. Her mind, though, is abuzz.

She's still scared of me. She thinks using her mind tricks will make me freak out again. There's a flash of confusion as Alicia actually considers the thought. Would it?

She probes the concept like a formerly sore tooth that no longer seems to ache. It's obvious the idea of having her mind manipulated still bothers her, but the panic isn't there. Much to her unfeigned surprise.


Jack's order startles her back to focus. Without a word, she settles into her stance. Without her shades, the expression in her eyes is clear to read. There is no anger, no malice, just alertness.


Alicia can't help it. She snorts a laugh. "Sylvia, if I killed you, he'd have to carry two coffins. Except mine would be itty bitty, after Donnie's lizards were done with me." She grins to keep any sting from her words.

"I'll wear my uniform even."  he says, getting the two of them into the ready position.  "Now, Alicia is working on the techniques for fighting hurt.  I ask that you not look inside her comic book like mind to get the answers.  See if you can figure out the soft spots from her moves, how she carries herself.  Thirty seconds, full speed."  He steps back.  "Go!"

Alicia sticks her tongue out at Jack for his dig.

Focusing right back on the mat, on Jack's word she bounces back and forth on the balls of her feet, working on hiding her injured side.

"Hey, Syl, here, check to see if I have a boo-boo on my foot." After so blatantly telegraphing her move, Alicia swings her leg out in a lazy sidekick.

Again, there's no malice or ill will in her mind. This is her place, her center. The words are playful, friendly.

[You wanna play with the big-leaguers. . . .  :)  ]


Sylvia has a look on her face like she's listening to some high-pitched and elusive note that no one else can hear, but she's looking at Alicia while she does it.  "And your coffin would be poopy."  That's a satisfying thought.  "Okay."  She gets up and rolls her shoulders a little as she steps onto the mat.


Sylvia's form is good.  In any normal context she'd be the martial artist, body curled in toward her opponent and hands guarding her face and torso.  Her feet know where to be.


Sylvia dodges.  She's not a big girl, and it's what Jack's trained her to do.  Her style's not flashy or formal, just cautious and defensive, like the underdog in a bar brawl.  Nevertheless Jack's told her to probe for sore spots, and so she sticks to quick kicks, rabbit punches, just to see how Alicia responds.

Meanwhile, from Jack's perspective, there's another Sylvia standing at the edge of the mat, arms folded across her chest and expression flat.  This is dumb, she says.  I don't suppose you know that, pretty much the first time we met, she tried to kill me?

"STOP!"  Jack says.  He looks towards Sylvia, then towards Sylvia.  "In this room I expect people to conduct themselves as students.  They do as I ask.  Can you please do as I've asked?"

Alica moves smoothly, flowing from one position to another as if she was dancing. And in fact, strands of music echo through her mind, aural mnemonics to help her remember the moves.

She's obviously not following Jack's instructions, matching Sylvia's speed but not exceeding it. She's reveling in the novel experience. All other times she's fought, it had been either against a master, with the pressure of being tested, or out on the street, where survival was the key. Here, with Sylvia, there is no anxiety, no worry, just the pleasure of movement and action and exertion.

After a bit, it's obvious that constantly wearing sunglasses has spoiled Alicia. She makes no effort to hide her feelings in her eyes. It's easy to see the tightening, the slight squint every time she stretches her left side.


Alicia, unaware of Sylvia's shenanigans, straightens to attention and bows her head in apology. "I'm sorry, Sensei Jack."

The one off the mat gives him the look of a wronged teenager--the look that often accompanies a noise like "Shya!" or "Da-ad!"  She disappears.

The one on the mat stops to catch her breath and says, "You told me to get on the mat and get the shit kicked out of me, and here I am.  You told me to stay out of her head, and I was doing that, too.  You didn't say anything about your head."


Sylvia gives Alicia a momentary glance like she's from another planet.  Sensei?  Kiss-ass.

"If you're playing virtual yous and chatting in my head you're not focused on the task."  he says, then looks at Alicia, "When I say combat speed I don't mean the opponents combat speed.  You want to dance with her I'll put on some music and leave you two alone to do whatever it is modern liberated girls do alone."  He shakes his head, "Ready!"  He eyes both of them.  "Go!"

Alicia gives Sylvia a quick apologetic look as she sinks back down to her stance. At Jack's order, she moves in.

She's definitely faster this time, though she still keeps her blows light. Alicia concentrates on testing Sylvia's defenses, shifting targets and positions. Her eyes still betray her favoring her left side.

If Sylvia were Kel Stilley, Jack would have taught her dojo-style martial arts--clean, fast moves thrown with the confidence of someone who knows he can take nine out of ten of his opponents out in under ten seconds.  But the functioning assumption is that, when Sylvia finds herself in a brawl, she'll be facing off against someone bigger and stronger and faster than she is, and she needs to do whatever it takes so she can run away or lay the whammy on her opponent, or whatever.  Ergo, Sylvia has been taught to fight dirty, like World War II in-the-trenches dirty.

She doesn't particularly want to hurt Alicia, but Jack's gone and put them in this stupid pit fight.  And she figures Alicia's too fast to get caught, so Sylvia might as well make it look good.

She goes for eye shots, just to keep her opponent at bay.  Throat shots, because a lucky hit there might stun even some punk hopped up on Superman.  Foot to the back of the knee is a viable target.  Cupped hand to the ear.  That kind of thing.

Alicia's eyes show her surprise as she finds herself blocking cheap shots. They then narrow in understanding. A grin stretches her mouth.

She proceeds to passively block her attacks, by moving and weaving to make herself a harder target. An eye shot pokes a cheek, fingers thrusting at her throat meet her shoulder instead, a knee break thumps against her thigh. Sylvia's making contact, but never where she intends to.

Menawhile, Alicia continues her exploration of Sylvia's defenses. And still those yellow-green eyes twitch every time Alicia's left side strains.

"Pour it on, keep moving.  Tick-tock."  Jack says to the pair, clapping his hands from time to time and moving around them.  He starts to circle further and further out, and then the stray objects start to get tossed onto the mat.  "Watch your footing."  he says, as towels, water bottles, and barbells end up in the area.  "Stay sharp, keep moving."

"You said thirty seconds!" whines an illusory Sylvia who sulks on the bench.  Then the Sylvia on the mat almost trips over a dumbbell, and the illusion flickers out.

Alicia is familiar with this exercise; her feet swivel and hop over the debris littering the mat.



Alicia capitalizes on Sylvia's stumble. Alicia's foot lashes out, catching the back of her opponent's ankle and lifting it, further unbalancing Sylvia and causing her to fall.

Alicia cartwheels over Sylvia and lands on her in a judo mount, pinning her to the floor. She grins down at Sylvia, panting from the exertion.

"Give up?" she says, in a friendly taunt.

Jack groans, "That was probably the wrong thing to say Alicia."  he says shaking his head.

At Jack's words, the thought is clear in Alicia's mind and eyes. S**t. Not again. The stab of anger is sharp, but self-directed.

She gets up and holds her hand out to Sylvia. "Sorry," she says, in sincere contrition.

Sylvia, buzzed by adrenaline, stubborn to a fault, and trained to take every opportunity to take down her opponent as a kind of reflex, grabs Alicia's hand, jams her foot in her opponent's stomach, and tries to flip her.  Good sportsmanship isn't a big sell in cheerleading or gymnastics either.

"That's why you shouldn't have said that.  I taught her to fight dirty, like her mom."  Jack says.

Alicia flies over Sylvia with a whoop. She flips and rolls in mid-air, landing in a three-point crouch, facing Sylvia with a feral grin.

She stands up, and the grin pops like a balloon as she grabs her left side. "Ow," she says, frowning. "Dammit, Jack, no fair. She didn't figure out my injury. That was just a lucky shot."

She nods at Sylvia, the grin creeping back up. "Two out of three?"

"Ready!"  he says.  "This time, let's change the dance."  he walks over to the lights, and turns the main lights out, leaving a few of the track lights on, then he turns the stereo on, and cranks up the volume.  Walking back over he nods, "This will make it more entertaining.  for me mainly I guess."  He nods to each of them.  "Go!"  then moves back.

After they've been going at it for a few seconds full water bottles begin to get lobbed at them.  Not head shots, but certainly body shots.

"'Ready'?  You never said stop!" she protests.  "He was supposed to say stop," she tells Alicia, like Jack's not playing by the rules and it's not Sylvia's fault no one told her they were taking a break.

But then it's go time again, and Sylvia does her best to keep up.  She's just glad Jack drinks out of nice, round, bulbous Deer Park bottles instead of big, hard, square Fiji brand bottles.

Alicia's teeth flash momentarily in the dim light, then she steps into a shadow and is gone from sight.

She hands it to Jack. By taking away sight and jamming sound, he's trying to handicap the two girls in their own way. He knows that Alicia uses her ears more than her eyes and as for Sylvia... Alicia grins again. No more playing nice.

She glides across the mat, circling Sylvia like a shark, looking for an opening. Assorted items still litter the ground, and Alicia concentrates on avoiding the obstacles and playing hide and seek with Sylvia.

Alicia has just enough warning from the rush of air to dodge the first bottle. In a flash of inspiration, she turns and catches the next one. Spinning, she rolls it on the floor towards her opponent, looking to trip her again and end this quickly.

Arbitrary Reflex Roll (1d20 + 2=15) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1974533/)

The bottle fouls Sylvia's footing, but not enough to take her down, and she recovers to make three quick back handsprings toward Jack and the stereo.  I really don't see what this is supposed to achieve, she tells him.  It's not by any means a fair fight.  What am I supposed to do?  Just let her throw things at me?

Alicia sees Sylvia tumble her way out with a touch of amusement. Oooh, she's agile.

Still using the darkness as a cloak, she repositions herself. And I'm stealthy.

She begins to worry Sylvia, like a wolf taking down larger prey. She moves in for a quick strike, then back out of range. Kidney punch, face-slap, foot-stomp, knee strike, none of them truly damaging, but designed to wear her opponent down.

Alicia's taking her time now, pushing Sylvia to see how much she can take. Her own body aches from her still-healing injuries, and every intake of breath lights a fire on her chest from the cracked rib. It's as much a test of Alicia's endurance as it is Sylvia's.

And all through it, Alicia's mind is clear. There is no rage, no hostility, just the serenity of focus supporting a layer of glee at the physical sensation of movement and effort. There are no worries, no anxieties, no doubts, just the smooth flow of action and response

Sylvia makes a face.  Jack has failed her.  What Would Smith Do?

"I'm really sorry about this," she shouts and makes a quick snatch to try to turn the stereo up to eleven.  What can she say?  Smith is a bastard.

Alicia grimaces, then grins.

Unbeknowest to Sylvia, one of Alicia's exercises to shut out the background noise at home is wearing headphones with the volume at full blast.

The noise does manage to cancel out her targeted hearing, but considering she has only one opponent to worry about, it's not as much of a limitation. Her cat eyes are quite capable of piercing the gloom and keep Sylvia in sight.

So, of course, the perfectly aimed water bottle hitting her right on her hurt side comes as a complete surprise. For a second, the world turns white and she can't breathe. Once the pain recedes, she spares a murderous glance towards Jack.

Fine, enough playing around. Alicia calls out a warning, "Not as sorry as you'll be in a minute," before rushing in.

OOC: Rolling random attack to see how this goes down. Goin' Medieval (1d20+4=11) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1974915/)

Even as she throws the first blow, Alicia realizes her mistake. She's waited too long, tired herself out. That and the still burning pain on her side causes her to falter, her punch barely grazing Sylvia.

Jacks watches them go at it.  The scales are shifting, Alicia's speed and skill are worn thin from pain and exertion.  Sylvia's clever mind and natural agility are fresh.  He keeps them on it, pouring it on at full speed until they reach the moment when they are on even footing. 

Jack has taught them each differently, capitalizing on their natural gifts.  Now those lessons pour out of them in a blur of arms, legs, elbow, and knees.  Each giving as good as they get and pushing themselves towards a physical edge.

Alicia is commonly driven to the high, Sylvia doesn't usually get pushed as far.  Today he lets them run it out, encouraging them as they near the tail end of the curve.  "Keep it up, stay sharp, watch your environment, pace yourself."  and other words of guidance until they both are beyond the rough edge and nearly falling down from effort.  "Stop!"  and stop they do, gravity and weariness pulling at them.  He hands each a bottle of water.  "Nice work."

Throughout Alicia's harrying Sylvia's strength--not an advantage, exactly, only an aptitude--is that she seems to be used to pain.  Physically she's just a normal fourteen-year-old girl, but she's coped with athletic injuries and acid scarring, I-beams to the head and near-death experiences.  So getting slapped and poked and having her knee turned doesn't seem to bother her as much as the building exhaustion of a sustained fight.

Without using her powers she doesn't have much choice but to try to cram her fist into Alicia's sore left side, but before she can try to drive home the bitch of a shot, Jack calls a stop.  She steps back and raises her hands in surrender, and when Jack comes toward them with water bottles, she cringes and blocks her head with her crossed arms.  "Not the face!" she pants.

Alicia gratefully accepts the bottle but doesn't open it right away. She drags herself over to sit on a bench, hunches over, and holds on as the inevitable post-adrenaline shakes overtake her.

The attack is violent but short. The bottle slips from her trembling fingers. After it's over, Alicia leans down wordlessly to pick up the bottle, opens it, and takes a healthy swig.

She looks up and studies the other two, still not saying a word. She's alert, but reserved, like a tiger regarding an onlooker across a barred cage.

Jack laughs.  "You're funny."  he says, pressing the bottle to her chest.  "Technique is good.  You keep those skills sharp and you'll be fine."  he looks towards Alicia.  "Your focus is improving.  Good work on watching the environment, expect that to come up frequently in future lessons.  We might even go out to a few abandoned buildings to get you some more practical experience."  He starts collecting the water bottles off the mats and other debris.  "Remember, keep it simple.  Get in, get the job done, get out."  he says, apparently to both of them as he clears the mats.

Alicia gives Jack a sullen look. "Yes, sensei," she replies respectfully. Bastard enjoys this way too much, comes loud and clear from her head.

She turns her attention to Sylvia, still not saying a word as she takes another sip.

Sylvia isn't nearly as dignified.  She drops to the mat and flops backward into a spread-eagled pose, groaning theatrically as she inventories her injuries.  The bruises will be painful, but cosmetic.  She needs to tape her knee and maybe check the bones of her feet for breaks.  No open wounds, thank god, since Alicia was playing with kitten punches instead of claw rakes.

She lifts her head a couple of inches off the mat and gestures incoherently toward Alicia for a moment before she can gasp out, "Bag.  Bandage.  Icy Hot.  Please?"  Sylvia's oversized tote bag is still on the bench, a couple of feet away, full of strange things like handcuffs, pain medication, keychain mace, and superglue.


He's old-school, Sylvia says, a little too exhausted to be cautious of Alicia's prejudices.  Old old-school.  No pain, no gain.

"You want to take a look?"  Jacks asks Sylvia.

Sylvia never relents in sassing Jack.  She figures it's good for him.  "Huh?  I think part of that conversation was in your head.  Look at what?"

There is barely a trickle of reaction to Sylvia's mental communication. Alicia's also too tired to care. Her only response is a snort of agreement.

A quick image flashes though her memory: another mat, another teacher, this one punishing her for a failed maneuver with a brutal strike that leaves her lying on the floor with a broken nose.


Alicia raises an eyebrow, but complies, managing to almost look graceful as she trudges over to the indicated bag and starts to dig inside. The other eyebrow raises as she examines the contents.

She can't help it. She holds up the handcuffs and looks at Sylvia with an evil speculative look.


Jack has Alicia's attention, curiosity dancing in her eyes.

Sylvia puts her hand to her nose and is relieved to see it's not bleeding.


"Not what you're thinking," Sylvia says, phrasing still broken as she catches her breath.  "I have zip cuffs, too, but one day I thought about how zip cuffs melt.  Can't be too careful.  No telling when the next fiery-hands sumbitch is going to show up and try to toast your marshmallows."

Alicia gives her the hairy eyeball. "You planning to make it a habit of cuffing people?" It's obvious her mind is still stuck on a different track.

"What am I supposed to do?  Cut their throats?"

The mental sound of shifting paradigms without a clutch is almost audible.

Alicia exclaims in skeptical surprise, "You're patrolling?"

The mental image of Sylvia foiling street crime flashes through Alicia's head. Interestingly, the image brings not scorn or disbelief, but rather keen interest.

Sylvia lifts her head off the mat to squint at Alicia.  "Did you think this was a Pilates class?"  She lets her head drop and continues in a more conversational tone.  "It's not patrolling so much as it's walking around the less-traveled parts of the city with my ears up for bad thoughts."

"Whatever it is you want to wrap and treat."  he says.



"Which I assume is the teenage version of patrolling in our modern connected world."  Jack says as he gets the last of the junk off the mats.

Sylvia grumbles like an old woman as she makes the clumsy effort to pull off her shoes and check her toes and metatarsals.


"What did you do in your day?  Run everywhere with that big old shield on your arm?"  She holds up an arm in what she presumes is a heroic way.  "'Make way!  Super soldier coming through!  I'm here to save your cat from that tree!'"

Alicia fishes the asked-for bandages and cream and absent-mindedly brings them to Sylvia as she mulls over the situation.


Alicia looks accusingly at Jack. "You said I needed to be ready before I could go out! And you're letting her go?" She points at Sylvia with a dismissive thumb.

"He's not letting me anything."  Sylvia medicates her knee and starts to wind an Ace bandage around it like a professional.

"I have to admit, I've never done the patrol thing in the hero sense.  Patrols as a soldier, but that's really not the same."  Jack comes over to check Sylvia for broken or misplaced parts.  "I guess I've missed out on the whole strong jawed hero thing."  he shrugs and continues to examine Sylvia.


"I have confidence that Sylvia will run away from something she can't handle.  You're not there yet."  he says taking the items from Alicia.  "Besides, I don't let her do anything.  If Carolyn thought for a second I had encouraged her daughter to go out into the night to look for trouble she'd run me over with a car." he checks to make sure Sylvia's knee works only in the directions it should, "If you want to go prowling, feel free.  I'm not going to stop you."

Sylvia utters a quiet ow or two, but mostly for pity.

Alicia's temper has a head of steam and the handbrake isn't working. "Oh, shut up," she mutters back, without taking her eyes off Jack.


"Fine! I will!" she huffs, unsure if she's made a point or just lost the argument. Without another word, she stalks out, heading for the bathroom and her own post-session supplies.

"Diva," Sylvia says once Alicia's left the room.  No malice, just a roll of the eyes and a smile.

A yell can be heard from down the hall. "I heard that! Drama queen!"

Sylvia grins.

Jack shakes his head and smiles.  "Okay, nothing broken or out of place."  he says, getting up.  "And shut up is a bit rude."  he says, knowing full well Alicia can hear him.  "You two did good.  Now I want you to shake hands."

Sylvia pushes herself off the floor with the care of an osteoporotic.  She shrugs at the suggestion that they shake hands and limps over to the bench where she paws around in her bag to find her bottle of semi-legal pain medication.  "So seriously, you never patrolled?  After the war you just stopped heroing?"

"No.  I still hero, just not really the costume and roof top kind.  I've never really been the vigilante type either.  Not smart enough really.  I've done mostly covert stuff, infiltration, that sort of thing."

"What do you mean?  For the government?  Spying?"  Sylvia looks a little too interested in this.  She'd make a hell of a spy.

Alicia is in the bathroom, washing the sweat off her face. Normally she'd jump in the shower to clean off before heading back home, but tonight she's still too wired, despite her exhaustion.

She catches Jack's admonition and makes a face in the mirror. Too bad, she replies mentally.

Alicia notes Sylvia's lack of response at the request to shake hands. Probably still thinks I'll rip her face off, she thinks scornfully as she reaches for the towel to dry herself off.

She shamelessly eavesdrops on their conversation as she wipes the water from her face and arms. She matches Jack's comments with others that he's made to her.

Yeah, he's been a spook, either for the Feds or working solo. Which means he has contacts. Which could be useful if I need it.

The thought led to Sylvia. So she's doing the street justice gig, or at least seriously planning to. That could be useful, too, assuming she gets over this thing with me.

Alicia sighs as she leans against the sink. Which means making nice with her. Which won't go over well with her paranoid mindset. Dammit, I'm crappy at this social engineering s**t. I can see why so many of the vigilantes go the solo route. Easier to handle when all your interactions involve beating the crap out of someone.

She tosses the towel in the direction of the hamper and straightens up to head back to the gym. The twinge on her side reminds her to snag a tin of tiger balm from the vanity. Maybe I'll stop by Ree-is's and see if he won't mind rubbing me down.

With that pleasant thought riding in her mind, she heads back down the hall, still listening in on the conversation within the room.

"Sometimes for the government, sometimes just because that's where I ended up.  Not really spying so much as pretending to be someone that I wasn't to get into some place.  Think Freelance government Agent and you're about there.  And the two of you are shaking hands before you leave here tonight or you don't have to worry about coming back."  he adds casually.

Sylvia gives him a wounded look.  "You think I'm that petty?"

"I think you two are teenage girls and think I'm so old my memory is going.  I wouldn't put it past either of you to try to just slip out hoping I forgot."  He finishes by sticking his tongue out at Sylvia.

"Alicia," Sylvia calls, knowing perfectly well Alicia can hear her at a more moderate volume, "Jack wants us to shake hands."

Alicia is leaning against the doorway to the gym.

She shrugs. "I'm game if you are." There's an undertone of amusement in the words.

Jack watches the pair.  "So Alicia attacked Sylvia the first time you met?"  he asks, "She's a pain in the ass, but I'm guessing there was more to it.  And, since then it's been lukewarm at best between you.  that's a shame."

Alicia opens her mouth to explain that Sylvia had inadvertently mind-controled her, but stops. In the end, it doesn't matter; it's all in the past.

She steps forward, eyebrow raised and mouth quirked into a smile, and offers her hand to Sylvia.

She turned to give Jack a quizzical look. "A shame? Reveal to us your pearls of wisdom, O revered mas- er, teacher," she quips with whimsical sarcasm.

Jack shakes his head.  "Nope.  You two will have to figure that out yourselves.  Not my problem."

Alicia's mouth twists with mock annoyance. "Dios, you're a pain in the ass sometimes," she mutters.

Jack nods, "Yes, yes I am."

Sylvia shakes Alicia's hand like she's done it since day one.

Jack clamps his hands together.  "Okay.  Now, who want's ice cream?"  he asks walking towards the kitchen.

"Looks twenty-five," Sylvia comments as he walks away.  "Might as well be ninety-eight."

Alicia returns the handshake, making sure to mask her relief just to spite Jack.


Alicia chuckles in agreement.

"Sooo," she drawls to Sylvia. "You normally run solo on these patrols? 'Cause it looked to me like you could use some backup."

Sylvia is wary, but receptive to--what is this?--negotiation.  "I'm not usually forced to slug it out with anybody.  Usually it's me, my super-psychic radar, and my cell phone.  The police handle the tough stuff.  In an emergency I prefer to stay far, far away and just, I dunno, make do.  Paralytic doubts, crushing fears, sudden indecision.  Oh, and outright hallucination.  That's my speciality."

Alicia winces in deflected sympathy. "Ouch. Yeah, I can see that taking care of business."

She heads at a lazy pace towards the kitchen and the promised treat. Her nose twitches and she sticks out her tongue in slight disgust. "Ugh. Pistachio. Who the hell came up with that as an ice cream flavor?" Another twitch. "Hmm, Cookies 'N' Cream."

Getting back to the conversation with Sylvia, she says in a casual tone, "Just wonderin'. If you find yourself looking for some potential patrol areas, I know a few places that could use some cleaning up."

Jack has bowls, scoops, and spoons.  He's got one of each flavor in a bowl and is working when they arrive.  "I'll be eighty-five July 4th."  he says taking another bite.

Sylvia takes one of those old-fashioned single-serving cups of vanilla, the ones with the little wooden paddle, out of Jack's freezer and applies it to her shoulder.  "I'd be willing," she hazards.  "I'm slow, though.  I walk like a normal person."


Sylvia grins.  "You're a Fourth of July baby?  And they made you Captain Orient?  You were so wronged."

Alicia nods, "I know what you mean. Public transportation can really cramp your style. Keep it in mind, though."


Alicia snags a bowl and seats herself at the table.

She gives Jack a look. "Your birthday is July 4th?" Pause. "Of course it is," she finishes with a shake of her head.

"All of ours were.  It was part of the propaganda machine."  he says.  "I thought you and Sarah did the Pakour stuff?"  he says to Sylvia.  "That's not public transportation."

Alicia pipes up. "Yeah, but rooftop runnin' sucks when you need to be somewhere, or out of somewhere, fast. Trust me, I know."

Alicia swallows a spoonful of ice cream and says to Sylvia, "Speakin' of close to home, I was goin' to ask Jack, but now that we're on speakin' terms..."

She leans forward, all business. "Sammy was actin' dodgy today. She bugged out at lunch to hole herself up in a music room and bang on a piano for the whole period."

She shrugs. "Dunno if it was personal stuff or what, but with some weird guy going around f**king with people's emotions, I wasn't sure whether to be worried or not, y'know?

"Anyways, ya definitely know her longer'n I have. Is that normal?"

"Normal," Sylvia says.  "I'm not sure what that means.  As long as I've known her, Sammy's been angst-ridden over the boyfriend situation.  So angst-ridden plus musically inclined equals piano time?  Sure.  I believe that."

Alicia nods, only slightly mollified. "Okay."

There're obviously many things on her mind. "What's the status on this Emotion Goo guy? Do we have any leads? I asked Mr. Heep whether messing with all those chemicals would give the guy a recognizable smell I could pick out, but he didn't seem very positive about it."

"I haven't been able to pick up any leads either although I imagine we're looking for someone who's good at chemistry.  Fair assumption?  I could start with the AP class and work my way down the honor roll.  So could you."

Alicia nods in agreement. "Sure. I didn't know if you guys had already tried it."

Her voice takes an ominous tone. "This guy's got to be stopped. Someone almost died because of his sick little game. God knows what he may be planning next."

[Should we end there since Alicia's pursuing investigation in the lunch-room thread?]

OOC: We could, although I'd like to know if Sylvia will be on board on the idea of more actively pusruing the Mad Chemist...

Sylvia shakes her head.  "I've only started to come to terms with the idea of brain spelunking for the common good.  Finding Cindy Capshaw's connection to Gena Ballestra was the first time I really got in there and mucked around like I had a right."  She looks a little disturbed by it.  "I'll tackle the AP Chem list tomorrow."

The thought of mind-sifting does dampen Alicia's enthusiasm somewhat. "I understand."

She thinks on it some more. "Can you do somethig like a passive radar kinda thing? Not go digging in, but just catch what floats out?" She waves her hands in a vague manner, trying to explain something she has no real inkling of.

"It's like--"  Sylvia has to pause to capture the feeling of it.  "--the world has Tourette's.  I walk down the hall at school, and it's like walking through the stereo section at Best Buy.  Only, every tuner's set to a different station, and every station has a really short playlist that's mostly porn and anxiety.  I have to work to shut it out."

"Porn and anxiety.  I'm betting that doesn't change when people get older either."  Jack says.

Alicia nods in understanding. "I deal with the same thing with sounds.

"Y'know how you walk into a party and everyone's talking, so you feel you have to shout just to have the guy next to you hear what you're saying? It's like that all the time. Once in a while a word or two, or some specific sound, will come through that you can identify, but most of the time it's just a dull roar."

She takes a thoughtful spoonful of ice cream before speaking again. "The thing is, sometimes it's, like, comforting. The sound, y'know? Like people say the sound of the ocean is. I remember going out camping one night for a school trip and I couldn't sleep 'cause there was just not enough sound around. No cars, no people. Kinda freaked me out."

She looks at Syliva with mild curiosity. "You ever go somewhere with no other people so you're not hearing their minds?"

"Please don't put porn and you in the same part of my head," Sylvia says.  "I like to think you're from a bygone era when people magically had babies by putting on wedding rings."


"In a manner of speaking," Sylvia says guardedly.  "Astral travel, you know what that is?"

For some reason, this makes Alicia cough and sputter as she tries to laugh and eat ice cream at the same time.


Alicia shrugs noncommittally. "Not a clue."

"Everyone has--well, I guess you could call it a soul.  And sometimes you can send your soul out on walkabout to a place that's only connected to the real world by emotion and ideas.  It's quiet there."

Alicia gives Sylvia an odd look. "So it's like you become a ghost and go to a ghost place? Can you see the real world from there?"

Sylvia nods.  "Pretty much.  It's kind of like a landscape defined by the perceptions of the people who are there.  Does that make sense?

"Like, if you're in a football stadium, the colors of the team jerseys are super intense, and the sky is kind of murky and vague, like it doesn't matter much to anyone."

Alicia frowns. "Sort of. You're only 'seeing' what other people are paying attention to?"

Her eyes narrow with a conspiratorial gleam. "You don't go snoopin' around when you're like that, do you?"

"She's a snoop.  Of course she does."  Jack says, "And for your information I'm convinced that when I was younger that is exactly how babies were made.  Somehow it changed though."

"I sightsee," Sylvia admits.

"And you have grandbabies, don't you, Jack?  But I don't see a wedding ring.  What was that about?  Just one of your superpowers?"

Alicia grins evilly at the thought of Sylvia as a some sort of incorporeal Peeping Tammy.


Alicia tilts her head as she gives her imagination free rein. "I'm figuring he was, like, really injured, got rescued by some local village girl, and she nursed him back to health. Y'know, him on the bed, and the girl mopping his forehead, he holds her hand, and boom! fade to the fireplace."

"There was no fireplace.  It was a muddy hole in the middle of a Chinese jungle on a rainy night in May, and by then I was well aware that babies did not magically spring from wedding rings.  I also, however, did not know that sex was how they happened.  And since it was my first time, I really didn't care."

Alicia listens attentively. With no trace of mockery or innuendo, she asks, "Was she pretty?"

"I thought she was the most beautiful woman I had ever met.  And when I saw her again almost fifty years later I still thought she was beautiful."

"Wow," Alicia says, smiling at Jack fondly. Teen-age girls are suckers for romantic stories, and Alicia is no exception.

Sylvia likes romantic stories, too, but having talked to John recently she has to set a nagging worry to rest.  "Hey, Jack?  You had just the one kid, right?  You know who all your descendants are?"

"As far as I know I only had one.  Apparently I'm not the type of person a woman wants to have around the house to be the father of her children.  But, assuming she was the only one, then I have a granddaughter and two grand children.  Why?"

"Carolyn and Mitzi got me from a Chinese baby factory.  I'm just figuring out who my birth parents might be by process of elimination."

Alicia looks between Jack and Sylvia. "Okay, that would just be, like, totally freaky," she announces, before filling her mouth with a dollop of ice cream.

Swallowing quickly as something occurs to her, she says, "Wait. Carolyn and Mitzi, are they, like, sisters or something?" Alicia is obviously still out of the loop on some things.

Sylvia looks at Alicia, looks at Jack, looks at Alicia.  "They're my moms."  She overemphasizes the plural.

Alicia stares at Sylvia for a second. Finally, she blurts out, "Are you s**tting me? Are they, like," she makes vague pushing motions with her hands as if bringing two bodies together.

She doesn't wait for Sylvia to answer. "That is sooo cool."

Sylvia gives her a look of dismay.  Whatever Alicia was thinking, it's now burned into Sylvia's mind's eye like a cattle brand, and it burns--oh, how it burns.  "They have wedding rings!" she says, grasping desperately at the erstwhile innocence of her childhood.  "They have babies like TV people!"

Jack can't help but laugh.  "Like TV people?"  he asks.  then he looks down at the counter.  "I know some people.  People that know entirely too much.  If you really want to know, I can ask."

Alicia's humor gives way to solemnity and she studiously inspects the contents of her bowl.

She knows what it's like to live with that question, and there is just a twinge of jealousy in the fact that Jack so willingly gives Sylvia the offer that he'd withheld from her.

"Well--"  She pauses to consider.  What could possibly go wrong?  "--sure.  Yeah.  I want to know."

Alicia sits quietly, slowly stirring the half-melted ice cream in her bowl.

"And while I'm at it.  Should I look for your father?"  he says to Alicia.  "You've come far enough I think I can offer that without the fear of you hoping the next bus out of town to go find him."

Alicia looks up in guilty surprise, as if she'd been caught stealing a cookie from the jar.

She looks at Jack anxiously, biting her lip. "Um, well, you said before you thought Mom should be the one to tell me..."

Her unshaded eyes hide nothing of the internal struggle between desire and familial loyalty. Is he testing me? she thinks furiously as she tries to come up with the correct answer.

"I still do.  But, what I think and what really happens are not always the same.  You might want to talk to her and get back to me."

Sylvia gives Alicia the sympathetic look of someone who could pop the secret out of Consuelo's head but who has the discretion not even to offer.

Alicia nods mutely, eyes down. "I'll do that," she says quietly.

OOC: This might be the place to end, yes?

OOC: Cool with me.

[Sounds good.]