16Parties were always something to pass the time. After so many over the years, they seemed to lose a bit of their charm, though. Boring, to say the least. One can only be seduced by a middle aged woman so many times before it got old and creepy. Not that he didn't enjoy the dancing, the music, and the tasteful drinks. It was just that everything was always the same. Nothing really different ever happened. Nothing could really be remembered. Well, maybe that one time when he sneaked off with one of the chairman's daughters up towards the top floor and found a room. What was her name again? Whatever the case, parties were still starting to lose their charm.
Maybe he was just losing his touch.
Emmerich shook his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes at such a thought. He held his martini glass between his fingers, looking around the floor. No one was dancing. It was one of those formal, kiss-ass-to-the-most-important-people-there parties. No one danced, just talked. And flirted. Embarrassingly. Normally Emmerich would snicker at the failed attempts of some ladies and gentlemen that wanted something from him - not in that way. Emmerich knew not everyone on the planet wanted to have sex with him. He was egotistical, yes, but not stupid. At least he liked to think that.
He was aware, though, of one particular gentleman glowering at him from a corner. He was dressed as formal as the rest of them, but he had no company. Not even a drink on hand. Whatever he was here for, it wasn't for the party. Emmerich feigned interest, ignoring the stranger as he joined in on a conversation that seemed to be hovering around him. The ladies had been hoping he would add something, he knew. Political drabble. They were only trying to sound educated. He doubted their spoiled heads knew how to read - but it never hurt to get on such people's good graces. Or to find an excuse not to look at the unusual, dark stranger from the corner.
It wasn't helping, though. He could still feel those eyes on his back. Studying him. Was it a super? He chuckled at the right moment at one of their jokes, but he was really just laughing at the silliness of his thoughts. Right. Like anyone would think he was the Illusionist.
The conversation was now starting to lose its appeal, not that it had been appealing to begin with. Just as he was thinking of an excuse to leave them, a strong hand took his wrist and turned him away from the two ladies. Confusion flashed across his features, but they quickly changed to alarm, back to amusement in seconds when he saw who had pulled him away.
The stranger.
"I thought you might like some air to breathe. They seemed to be taking most of it."
Emmerich raised an eyebrow. This man was certainly a mystery. "Oh? Well, I was just about to escape, myself, but I suppose I should thank you for saving me. Although, you might want to let go of me. People will start to wonder."
The man's expression didn't share his amusement, Emmerich noted, but he let go of his wrist. "I need to speak to you in private."
Now that was curious. Very, very curious. This party was going to be remembered after all. "There is a door over on the left that could take us upstairs," Emmerich suggested innocently, or as innocent as one Emmerich Stockholm could get.
"No. Outside."
Emmerich blinked. Outside? Odd place to be wanting to - oh. He was serious. The man really did want to talk. "Right." There was something eerily familiar about this stranger, but he couldn't quite place it.
The man's stormy blue eyes held something in them, and Emmerich would have sworn that he saw a small smirk form on the taller man's face, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. Whatever that meant. Was it a really smart idea to go outside with a stranger, who could very well want to kill him? Emmerich had been threatened quite a few times before. Illusionist or not.
Despite this, he walked out with the man anyway. He shivered once they stepped outside. It was a bit windy, to say the least. The cold bit at his face almost instantly, but he kept his poker face on, eyes watching the stranger while he continued to follow.
It finally dawned on Emmerich that he was still holding his martini glass. Shrugging to himself, he drank the last remaining of it in one gulp and tossed it, not even flinching at the sound of breaking glass. Apparently, neither did the other man.
Stiff as a board, that one.
"So…" Emmerich began conversationally, stopping when he stopped. The wind was tossing the stranger's blond hair, almost glowing in the lamplight like a halo. Emmerich couldn't help but stare. He blinked several times, though, when the man just turned around and stared right back at him.
"I know who you are."
Well, that was obvious. "I didn't think you pulled me out of here just because I looked pretty," Emmerich commented with a wave of his hand. "What do you want? A patent on one of my inventions? Because that's a no. I refuse. Go ahead and threaten my life now."
The man just continued to stare at him, confused, nearly gawking. "What?"
Emmerich for once wasn't amused, his expression flat, serious. "I'm Emmerich Stockholm. I own Stockholm Industry of Technology. That is who I am, after all. What other reason would you drag me out here for? Unless you have a really strange fetish-" At this point Emmerich was expressive again, moving his hands around as he talked. He stopped when he saw he was still being stared at. "Did I grow two heads now or something?"
"You are the Illusionist."
Emmerich cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, giving the man a look that purely showed he thought he lost it. "Excuse me?"
The stranger was tense again, agitation clearly showing in his fine toned features. "Don't play innocent. I know it's you." He began to slowly approach. Emmerich took a step back every time the other man came closer. When there was only wall, the man snatched Emmerich's wrist again, tugging down the sleeve. There was a scar there, starting from his palm down across his arm. "I gave you this in a fight." The man's calloused thumb traced it for a moment, making Emmerich bite his lip to stop from making a noise. His watch usually did a great deal of hiding that scar, as well as his long sleeves. How the hell did this guy know about that?
Emmerich didn't even really recognize him. His voice wasn't familiar, nor was his general appearance. With all the people he had run into in such a short year, he never could really remember names or faces - masked or unmasked. "Accident in the lab," he finally managed, pulling his arm free, or at least tried to. The man's hold was strong and firm.
"You do not know who I am, do you?" The blond asked, tone frustrated, but his face for once was unreadable. He let go.
"Sorry, no," Emmerich muttered, rubbing his wrist. Damn, that guy was strong. "And sorry to disappoint you, but I am not a super."
"You're right," the man said, tense again. Emmerich could almost say he was relieved. Was it that easy to get this guy off his scent? "You're a villain."
Emmerich was about to say something to lighten the mood by throwing comments about how dark and moody this guy was, but paused. What had he just said? Shit. Now this loon thought he was a bad guy, which, in a sense, maybe he was right…
"I'm not-" he began, but the stranger shoved him back against the wall, hard, his head hitting the brick with a swift crack. Emmerich saw stars, pain flashing white behind his eyes. The man let him go, let him drag to the floor. "Jesus," he groaned, leaning forward to rub the back of his head. It hurt like hell. Did he feel blood? Great.
"Stop playing games, Illusionist. I know your petty little secrets. You better stop before you get killed."
"What, by you?" Emmerich bit back, looking up. He instantly regretted it as the man's fist hit him hard enough to smack himself against the cement. His head was getting so abused right now. Spitting out blood, his lip cracked and bleeding, he glared at his attacker. "Yeah, this is really noble, attacking a civilian."
"I'm not in costume," the man growled. "Get up."
As much as Emmerich wanted to be stubborn and not listen to this nut-case at all, he liked his pretty face too much to get it mussed over any more and did as he was told. Off balance, he touched the wall to lean on as his head filled with dizzying pressure. Did he have a concussion? Emmerich hoped not, but it was likely. "Why are you doing this, exactly?" Panting quietly, he glared at the stranger, a name still not coming to mind. "Trying to scare me off?"
"You are a human." As if that explained everything. "You mock us with your petty escapades."
Emmerich sighed. Great. Another one of those self-righteous bigots. "Right. Okay. I get the point. I'll stop." Yeah, right. He just hoped the bastard would buy it.
"I'm not stupid," the man said darkly, leaning in to corner him. Emmerich formed a small smirk, his ever cocky behavior taking over as he licked the man's cheek mockingly. Jerking back and snarling, the man planted his fist in Emmerich's stomach. Emmerich swore he heard something crack, something break. Somethings, maybe. That had been a really, really bad idea.
Did he cry out? He couldn't remember, but his throat felt dry, scratchy. He blinked back tears, trying to fight the pain. All he did now was glare at his attacker. He had to look up, however, even more so now as he had landed on his knees.
"I will make you understand."
This man was star craving mad. Just what kind of hero acted like this? Emmerich couldn't do this anymore. Staggering to his feet, holding his stomach, he tried to look somewhat submissive until the man began to approach again. Then he ran for it.
Pain was shooting through his body like millions of needles, and he was on the ground in seconds. It couldn't have been his ribs. The pain was far too different. It also was terribly familiar. Suddenly everything made sense.
This man was the Extremist. He caused pain to whoever apposed him. He took his job far too seriously. Emmerich doubted the man actually chose his name, but he couldn't remember if it was tabloid given, or if the guy had another name. A few run-ins before, Emmerich had always been careful not to get too close. Extremist's range was short, meant for close combat.
The Extremist's power was something hard to explain, all he knew for sure was that he controlled people's pain receptors. Which made perfect sense now as to why he was writhing on the dirty cement floor.
"You will learn your place," Extremist whispered, pressing his shoe against Emmerich's back. He could hear himself whimper in pain, and he hated himself for it.
"Be sure to learn it quickly. Next time if I see you as the Illusionist, I will kill you."
The pressure was gone. The pain was gone - at least the power inflicted pain. For several silent, agonizing minutes Emmerich thought the bastard was gone. But the moment he tried to move, a swift kick to his head sent him into darkness.
His hangovers were going to be nothing compared to what he would feel like in the morning.
Author's Note: Wrote this earlier today. This is based on a superhero-ish role play site set in the 1950s. Where superheros are basically banned and made to live in secret while the villains pretty much have taken over. Of course, there are still rebels, and my character Emmerich is one of them. And he isn't even really a super, which opens controversy since he has no real powers. He uses science. As dubbed the "Illusionist" he works a lot like the Scarecrow with his smoke bombs that are made of chemicals that can either boost him up or create hallucinations towards his victims. He's also bi...and a bit of a slut. Anyway, that's enough information. Enjoy? This is just a one-shot. Not sure if I'll bother continuing as this was just a sample for the site. (Well, it /was/ a one-shot.)