Sunday Morning [[Open]]

Walking outside of her apartment, Samantha, to her enemies "Hydrophobia", walked over, past the street full of clothing stores and fancy restaurants, to a nice little coffee place. Thinking that this looked like a great place to start of her morning, Samantha walked in, sat down, and ordered some coffee. I wonder what has that guy so ticked off? she wondered as her disgruntled looking waiter walked off to get her a Frappucino. She looked across the restaurant and saw a very elegant looking woman with red hair. Now that looks like a modern woman though Samantha to herself as she sipped on the coffee the boy had brought her a second ago. Turning to the little cafe's television, she saw that there was a sacred Aztec crystal on display at the Smithsonian. This piqued Samantha's interest, as she always wanted to know more about Native Americans, as she was herself one, this being obvious form her bronze skin and black hair. Continuing to sip her coffee she found a small golden coin under her table. Wonder what this is? she thought to herself. Deciding it was nothing she tucked it into her pocket, paid for her coffee and started to get up, planning to go visit the Smithsonian to see that Aztec crystal. Looking around for the telltale yellow of a taxi Samantha yelled Yo, Taxi! and hopped into the first one she saw, told the guy to take her to the Smithsonian, and she was off.

Agosto stared drearily into the glass box containing shards of an ancient Aztec calendar. His breath fogged the glass as he drifted in and out of near sleep and the docent droned on about how the ending of the Baktun did not entail the end of the world as we knew it. "Ugh, what kind of devil school makes you get up on a Sunday! We should be in church." he said to himself. FOOL BOY! the voice of the Jaguar spirit growled into his mind THIS IS THE HISTORY OF THE PEOPLE OF AZTLAN, THE SLAVES OF THE MIGHTY TEZCATLIPOCA!!! Agosto Amanacer had to deal with the Jaguar spirit every since he had "inherited" the mask of Tezcatlipoca from his Abuelo. Apparently the soul of the evil god's servant was bound to the mask in order to curse those who did not use it's power for the god's will. Since Tezcatlipoca was the god of violent upheaval and demanded human sacrifice, Agosto and the Jaguar weren't going to get along anytime soon. He followed the crowd of students as they were led from one exhibit to another in the museums current Cultures of Mesoamerica feature. He slung his back back off his shoulder as he walked and nonchalantly slammed it against a wall. His was in the back of the group, so no one saw him violently discipline the mask.

The contents of his bag growled and he muttered. "Why should I have to listen to some old bald guy talk about Aztec history? I get enough of that from you!" He slung it back onto his shoulder and moped past more glass cases of pottery and weaponry. THE JAGUAR CUB HAS A POINT. THIS MAN'S UNDERSTANDING OF THE WILL OF TEZCATLIPOCA IS AS NARROW AS HIS OWN!!! BUT IF THE CUB WOULD NOT BE SO GRACIOUS AS TO BATHE IN THE BLOOD OF THE FEEBLE, AS IS THE NIGHT WIND'S EDICT, IT WOULD BE AT LEAST FITTING TO OPEN HIS EYES TO THE TRUTH THRUST BEFORE THEM!....BUT THE FORMER WOULD BE PREFERABLE!" Agosto sighed as the foreboding voice boomed in his head. It used to frighten him, but familiarity had taught him that this cat was more bark than bite. If that made sense. He did however look up just in time to see a large display of a crystal nearly a foot in length.

Awestruck at it's luminous darkness he approached the display. The Smoking Mirror: It read The Aztec's believed that by using polished obsidian, a type of volcanic glass, they could see into the cosmos and cast magical spells. Agosto was entranced by the black rock and how it seemed to glow with power despite the fact that it was black as starless night. He put his hands on the glass. He felt as if some darkness was trapped inside, calling on him to don his mask and go on a rampage. He of course was a lot stronger than that, so for the time being the worst thing he was doing was putting finger prints on the glass.

Wow, this rock is so pretty muttered Samantha. That Child! He seems like he is emanating a strange force! screamed the voice of Kayuk, the Beaver god, in Samantha's head. Samantha loved Kayuk like a big brother, but he was so melodramatic sometimes. For once in your life please don't be a drama queen Kayuk. retorted Samantha.

There was a chill in the air that she felt around the diamond. It had something to do with that her native Navajo gods were generally, kind, gracious, and peaceful monarchs, while the Aztec gods were brutal, demanded war, and killed their own people for glory. This made Samantha feel a bit off color, so to secure her emotional state, she quickly calmed herself down by swirling some of her water bottle's water around. That feels a bit better, but that kid does seem strange, hey that lady from the Cafe works here, and she's telling him off! Walking over to the lady, she quickly asked, What did the boy do wrong? she said this in a respectful tone, not meant for offense.

Agosto took his hands off of the glass box with a start, nearly jumping out of his skin when the woman with the thick red hair scolded him. "Ah-I was just looking-" He started out as he turned to see her. She was gorgeous. Agosto's 12 year old boy-ness did not know what to make of this crimson lady but he was dumbstruck for a moment, the honeyed tint of his cheeks being replaced to match his new crush's hair. He snapped out of it though, and cleared his throat "I'm sorry I didn't mean anything by it." Soon however someone else was close by, defending him from the overbearing beauty that had admonished him.

Something was strange about this one. Agosto didn't have any powers when he wasn't wearing the Savage Jaguar mask, but he was still a little sensitive to the presence of magic in others. The Jaguar spirit was even more sensitive apparently. EAT THIS ONE! THIS ONE IS FEEBLE! THIS ONE HOLDS THE WEAK GOD OF THE NORTHERN SAVAGES, TEZCATLIPOCA WOULD BE PLEASED IF THE CUB WOULD SPILL HER BLOOD IN HIS NAME! No? Agosto replied internally. The spirit was sent to curse Agosto to make him want to do evil and commit violent acts. He was never very convincing though. OKAY, SO MAYBE NOT ALL OF IT. HOW ABOUT, LIKE, JUST A FEW DROPS!?!?!? Just shut up. Then out loud "Uh, my class is like- WAAAY over there now so, maybe I should just vamos?

The boy began back away from the decidedly awkward situation, but then Jaguar had to butt in as usually and make things ten times more awkward.COWARD! IF YOU WILL NOT APPEASE THE BLACK GOD WITH BLOOD, YOU SHOULD AT LEAST MAKE THESE WOMEN YOUR CONQUESTS!!! DO NOT RETREAT!!" Finally having enough, Agosto slurred together mentally in his other language CALLETETUCARAESTUPIDO! The moment of lost concentration upon his retreat caused him to bump into a podium holding an intact Aztec piece of pottery. It plummeted towards the ground and Agosto tried to catch it, but in human form his reflexes weren't fast enough to keep the antique from plummeting to the ground.

It had been an arduous saturday night; Silas could still feel the fatigue-born grittiness behind his eyelids. Between the gang activity in less fortunate neighborhoods and supers throwing down in the street, paramedic was one of the more exciting professions one could hold. Although he had been in New York only a short time he had already adopted museum visits as a sort of ritual after more difficult shifts; indulging his inner nerd was a delightful distraction.

The Aztec installation had been heavily featured across most city media for the past few days. Silas stood studying the ancient weapon display, hands pocketed in his khakis. It was astounding how items hewn of stone and bone could cut as deep as any scalpel. Pulling his hands from his pockets, Silas hiked his pant-legs ever so slightly to accommodate his 6-foot frame bowing into a crouch. HIs eyes narrowed to read the fine print of a display card attached to an especially wicked obsidian blade. It was not so much one blade as a set of serrations chipped into the stone. "No way i'd want to suture the hole that makes" he muttered to himself.

Silas pushed himself upright, unconsciously moving his shoulders to set the straps of his backpack once square on his shoulders. In his reverie he has missed the gaggle of students field tripping past him. He spared a moment to glance down the display hall after them, taking in their youthful enthusiasm, It always gladdened him to see youth taking in the sights. He paused again at depicted reconstructions of Aztec citizenry. The glass reflected his similarly-toned face as he mused at life among the aztecs. Although he was of mixed descent, the net result usually caused people to mistake him for hispanic.

A sudden and notably warm wake of air brushed the back of his Silas' shaven scalp. Lifting his hand to his head in a moment of confusion, he glanced about, catching sight of a small group that had gathered around the infamous calendar stone. Three women surrounded a preteen boy; part of the school group he supposed. A clearly annoyed museum employee fumed from behind a cascade of crimson locks and was faced with a lithe looking woman with dark skin. Near them, a sun-haired woman was replacing an amphora onto a pedestal; the promo piece for the greeks in the other wing. He vaguely listened as the blonde spoke and it all came out BBC.

Just placing himself in the kid's shoes made Silas' palms sweat. He, near his 30s, was still awkward with the ladies. Quickly straightening the front of his blue button-down shirt, he re-pocketed his hands and feigned interest in a new part of the display while keeping an eye on the ladies and the kid.

It was always nice to see youth taking in the sights.

Well then, I think I might just wanna research this crystal a bit more, It seems to radiate power, and I might wanna ask the kid a few questions. thought Samantha to herself. Sorry for bothering you miss, I'll be on my merry way she said to the museum keeper. Turning on her heel Samantha walked away to the information section of the museum. Flipping through the books, she quickly found a mention of this ancient Aztec crystal. "Aztec Culture and Tradition" was the title of the book. "In ancient Aztec myth, lost to most, and only known to the small tribes of the jungle, It is stated that this black crystal was used to store the energies of various animal spirits. In the legends the spirits were often described as vicious jaguars, brutal snakes, ancient dragons, and screeching birds. In the legend these animals had committed crimes against the gods, and so were brutally punished by being locked in a stone. They became known as avatars of hate and sin, even to the point that Christian settlers confused them with the devil. It was rumored that this stone brings about large magical phenomenons, though this is obviously just a myth. It was also said that the people used this stone in a ritual to inspire warriors with a hate for the enemy" This is why I always disapproved of the Aztec gods, they're all about hate, hate, hate, and more hate, the people need benevolent leaders not angry avatars of rage and war. Why were they so determined to get the people to kill each other? Blech Samantha heard Kayuk say. Well, I think the myth may be true, everyone around the stone felt weird, I'm guessing either supers or magic users like me. replied Samantha.

Having discovered some information about the rock, Samantha decided to talk to the kid who Kayuk had said "felt weird". Walking over to the school group she yelled out, Hey, Kid! hoping to get some reaction.

Agosto frowned. What was a stupid Grecian Urn doing in the Aztec installation anyways? And why was Red calling him a kid!? Okay, that last one he guessed was forgivable. He supposed it was hard to tell that he was a young man cause that one upper lip hair he had was waiting for his buddies to arrive to the party. You could see it in the right light, if you squinted hard, and turned your head sideways. And imagined there was a hair there. But still! He was a young man. Just a very, very, young man. All of a sudden it seemed like the room which had been mostly empty after his group had ambled out was now full of strangers.

There was the redhead, and some feisty busy body British blonde, the black haired red toned girl, and some creepy beige guy walking around. Others may have assumed the last two were Hispanic, but he didn't think so. Well...maybe mestizo, or negrito...but he doubted it. Anyways, race was unimportant. "U-uh, no?" a bead of sweat slid down the small of his back and his voice quavered just a tad until he mustered some resolve "Er- I mean yes. I just got distracted by this black crystal here. It's all," he searched for a suitably impressive word "ominous. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about it besides what's on this blurb here I mean." The guttural voice of the Jaguar spirit rose up inside of him THE CUB REQUESTS KNOWLEDGE THIS ONE COULD EASILY PROVIDE!!! OBVIOUSLY THE CRYSTAL- Didn't I tell you to SHUT. UP!?! And why you always yelling? It was more annoying than anything, having someone think directly into your mind. Can't you tell I want HER to tell me? Dios Mio...

The other woman had gotten his attention though, the one Jaguar had claimed contained a spirit of her own. He didn't know what to make of that exactly. Northern savages? Could he mean the Plains Indians? And besides that, wasn't that a bit of the pot calling the kettle black? Anyways, as she moved closer to him, he could feel a certain magical energy resonate about her. It smelt like rain, and moved like a voluminous cloud. Not like the blonde, who smelt burnt, and was warm. That was weird. Anyways, was this what Jaguar meant? He had as many questions for this girl as he did for the museum worker. He got distracted yet again however. There was a sound. Not the rushing water sound that faintly emanated from the raven haired girl. It was fainter, and behind that. It was the black crystal. It was drum beats. And anger. And chanting. And...Scratching. He had to know, he didn't dismiss the girl but met her with a somewhat solemn, and knowing look. He reaffirmed his question more soberly "What I want to know is; where did this rock come from? Where was it found, and how did it get here?" Then remembering his manners "Muchos Gracias"

Silas continued his sightseeing advance down the artifact-laiden atrium, dividing his attention between arbitrary displays and the slowly dispersing group. As he approached, he realized it had not been the much lauded calendar causing all the fuss. As the employee ushered the young boy in the direction of his classmates, Silas realized that it was a large black stone attracting all of the attention. What was that? He could understand a kid being concerned about a thing the whole internet said would end the world, but was unsure about the allure of the mirror-sheen rock.

Of note was the young woman who seemed to be sticking up for the young man. He watched as she had pointedly walked off toward the information section with... a certain look... on her face. It was a look he saw every day; the 'something-is-wrong-and-I'm-not-sure-what' look. It was a look he found on every harrowed orderly, every tired EMT, and every perplexed doctor he encountered in work life. He was unsure what had troubled her so, and was double unsure when she returned to the hall at a near jog. She had taken off down the atrium after the kid and the redhead, her voice echoing off the high walls as she called after them; what could possibly be that hectic in a museum? He supposed it was time to see for himself what the fuss was about.

Changing his course, Silas began walking toward the stone display. It was an impressive piece even at distance, and grew more impressive as he drew closer. The thought of ancient people being able to do something so precise filled him with a certain cultural humility. No lasers, no saws, no electricity and still they found a way to split a stone with so much care. Silas thought that, for a moment, he could see the yet present blonde's face in the reflection.

Mentally, he would have to prepare if she were still hanging around by the time he arrived. He began mentally drilling himself on the differences between England, Britain, and the United Kingdom. He began reminding himself to avoid topics like BBC shows, tea, and the American Revolution. Mostly, he was a bit afraid of sounding to her like thugs and hillbillies sounded to him.

His concentration on cultural awareness was shattered by a single, minute sound; a small hissing inrush of air between teeth. His mind snapped to focus with the presence of the signature sound of pain. He had watched it happen; The Englishwoman who had caught the amphora had reached out to the stone and reflexively jerked her hand back as if burned or cut. There was no longer a need for icebreakers; Silas had no problem talking to the injured.

Silas reached reflexively for his wallet containing his paramedic identification. He kept an intent eye on the blonde woman as he made his way to her. She had stopped a moment after the touch and reached to her pocket. In the stone's reflection, he watched blue light cast up to her face from a small handheld device. Silas grasped his identification between his fingers on the approach. When within feet of the woman, he realized what she was doing...

She was texting.

Silas supposed her fingers must not hurt too bad. Barring that, it must be the whole 'stiff upper lip' thing he's heard so much about. He was about to re-wallet his ID when he felt the heat. It seemed like a damp, human heat emanating from the Brit. Silas decided to play it casual and approached the placard on the stone display. Observing her in glances, Silas saw no sweat and no uncharacteristic paleness on the woman. From hearing her speak priorly (and being that she could do thigs like stand, move and text message), he ruled out cognitive compromise. This woman showed signs of a fever that should be boiling her brain and yet she was.... fine. Far too curious to let it go, Silas waited until the woman he was now standing next to was done with her messaging.

"Excuse me, Mizz" he said, extending his paramedic identification card for her examination, "Are you okay? you looked like you burned your hand from back there." Silas made a non-comittal gesture to something behind her.