Back in front of the Stewart Regency Hotel, the press had reached a frenzied pitch, when all of a sudden, one by one…the tongues stopped wagging. As everyone followed the stunned silence and wide eyed gaze as Soldier Boy made an appearance on the scene. …and then, the rest of the masks began to show up, one by one - completely captivating the scene and becoming the absolute center of everyone‘s attention.

He stood there for a few moments to make sure that everyone saw him. In his Soldier Boy uniform he was hard to miss. He considered going with a tuxedo and only his mask, but if Phi wanted everyone to get a look at Soldier Boy, by god they were going to see Soldier Boy. The frenzy of flash bulbs reminded him of being in a firefight, and made him feel at home. Reporters on either side of the red carpet competed for his attention. He was only going to choose one. Eenie, meenie, mynie... Danny.

"Good evenin', sweetheart," Soldier Boy said to Danielle Ciders as they hugged and pretended they were old friends.

"Good evening indeed, Soldier Boy," Danielle said with professional energy. "I think everyone is surprised to see you here."

Soldier Boy laughed. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

"So, what has America's hero been doing since retirement?"

"Hangin'. Chillin'."

Danielle laughed as if she actually found Soldier Boy funny. "But, seriously, why are you here? What's the occasion?"

"It's New Year's, Danny!" Soldier Boy said with a sweeping gesture.

"Yes, but... why..." Danielle Ciders began, but Soldier Boy was already on the move. Up the stairs with a vigorous jog and through the door.

You little shit, Danny thought to herself with sharp amusement. You always did know how to work a crowd.

"Yes ladies and gentleman, that was Soldier Boy himself here in Hudson City!" She beamed enthusiastically into the bright light of her cameraman, mic held before her like a weapon of war. This certainly ups the stakes in..." she looked dramatically off-camera and said "...wait a minute, we've got a limo pulling up now," she trotted off down the stairs and with a few well-placed (and hidden off-camera) elbows to her 'colleagues', was the first to present her mic to the person climbing out of the car. "And I'm not quite sure who this is, ladies and gentleman," she breathed happily, wondering who the hell the old broad was who'd just heaved herself out of the car, "but obviously it's someone the DiSantiago's feel to be," she was continuing as the old battle-axe blinked into the flashing lights of cameras like a grizzly coming out of it's cave after a long hibernation, "of importance to tonight's event! Ma'am! Ma'am! Danielle Ciders here! What can you tell us about tonight's festivities!?!"

Other reporters were also shouting out questions, but they\'d have to wait (the bastards! ha!), as Danny had the center spot. "Well," replied the somewhat oddly familiar woman, (Danny would swear she'd seen her somewhere before), you\'ll have to ask him." She turned and indicated the figure of a man who was climbing out of the car.

Young. Dark haired. Good-looking in a gangly kind of way. Wearing a... costume?

He stepped up beside the older woman and smiled. "Hello," he said brightly. "And who might you be?"

Danny hid the flash of annoyance and quickly replied "Danielle Ciders, SuperHype. Can you tell us who you are sir, and what we might be expecting from the DiSantiago's tonight?" The mic was in place, the cameraman had gotten a great angle, what she called 'Her' angle - guest to the right of the shot just enough to allow Danny to have a wee bit more screen presence. Perfect!

\
"Oh, surprises no doubt," the young man replied smoothly. "Was that Soldier Boy who just went inside?" He asked her.

"Yes it was. Do the two of you know each other?" she asked, sensing an opening, feeling the Story taking shape, and just a touch of irritation that he'd not fully answered her questions.

"Not really," replied the young man. "Well, in a way we do." He seemed to consider this for a moment. "It's complicated right now. Let's leave it at that." He nodded and smiled once more, and his eyes changed color, moving from blue-green to a dark brown. "Shall we," he said to the old woman, extending his arm.

She nodded and took it. "Lets."

"Thank you, thank you," the young man said, ignoring her (and her fellow reporters) repeated questions as he and the old lady climbed the stairs and entered the building. He leaned in and whispered something to her as they walked, but Danny wasn't able to hear it. She turned and looked once more into the camera.

"Yes ladies and gentleman, we're as unsure as you are about exactly what's going to happen here this evening, but you can bet with Soldier Boy and his friends around, it's going to be exciting!!" Danny gushed into the camera, her mind whirling with possibilities.

And then they all heard it – the ominous thunder of motorcycles…lots of motorcycles…approaching from the south. They appeared from around the corner three sets of traffic lights down. Two long columns, side by side, fifty pairs of headlights trailed languorously along like a snake as the caravan of two-wheelers arrived out front of the hotel.

The five lead riders pulled to a spot just off to one side of the red-carpeted entrance. They rode right up onto the wide curb, forcing some of the celebrity-watching throng to scatter with long, ear drum-rattling rips of their throttles. The rest of the bikers split into two groups. The column on the right kept on to the end of the block and parked there en masse. The column on the left tied up traffic completely as they did a u-turn in front of the hotel and rode to the other end of the block to make camp.

The five riders at the hotel dismounted. Two bore the blood-dripping shoulder colors of The Forbidden among their denim and leathers. Another two wore the patch of The Killers, a knife and a pistol crossed heraldic-style, on their black leather jackets. The more street-savvy members of the media might have wondered at why two different biker gangs, each the other’s deadly rival, decided to crash the party of Hudson City’s most famous family. But the big question in their head was the identity of the fifth rider.

A rugged-looking biker in a tuxedo was strange enough to warrant a little media attention. This one also wore dark retro sunglasses and had his long dark hair tied in a low, loose ponytail with a plain rubber band.

Stone turned to his guests and reminded them, “Twenty-four hour truce, and no trouble inside. You get a hassle, you come get me. I find out you’re beating up security guards or raping the bartender in the coatroom and I’ll put you in solitary myself. Clear?”

“We got it,” Cueball Patterson told him with a evil smile and a clap on his shoulder. The leader of the Hudson City chapter of The Killers was a big, bald ZZ-Top-bearded fellow with an eight ball tattooed on the side of his head, and he and his lieutenant walked past Stone to start up the red carpet.

“Yeah, man, you worry too much,” The Forbidden’s Hudson City hoss, one Slammin’ Jack Maxwell joked as he started up with his second, giving Stone a light jab in the arm as he passed. Jack’s friendly, live-and-let-live exterior belied the vicious bastard underneath. His lieutenant laughed at his boss’s quip, not doing much to ease Stone’s mind about their arrangement.

The Killers and The Forbidden represented Hudson City’s two largest outlaw clubs. They also represented Stone’s biggest window into what goes on down on the streets, and he’d need that crutch until he got himself integrated into his new hometown. Inviting them was a risk, but it was a political necessity at this point.

“Please let the truce hold,” he said quietly to himself as he started up after them.

The crowd was to be ignored. It was all shouting and questions and flashbulbs and Stone paid it absolutely no mind. Neither did his guests, fortunately, except to joke with each other at the ridiculousness of it all. Halfway up the long flight of stairs, Stone stopped in place, as if remembering something important.

He turned, shades facing across the street. He put two fingers to his mouth and ripped off a loud whistle that cut through the crowd noise like a blade.

From out of an alley came two figures, a man and a woman. They jogged quickly across the street to the hotel, both giving whoops of delight as they reached Stone on the steps. Both were black and dressed in clean yet old formalwear. At least, as formal as you can get from the Salvation Army.

“You two ready?” he asked them. They nodded, still smiling and somewhat out of breath from their run.

“Let’s do this,” the woman said. Stone nodded and then turned at a commotion from the doors. Trouble was starting early.

“I got an invite, now let me in,” Cueball was saying to one of the tuxedo-clad security persons at the metal detectors in a tone that didn’t hide the urge to violence. Slammin’ Jack looked on from just inside the doors while stifling a laugh at his rival’s predicament.

“What’s the problem,” Stone asked the security monkey gruffly, coming up behind the group of guests. “He’s with me.”

“And just who the hell are you,” was the earpiece’s sarcastic reply.

Stone slowly walked up to the man, his shaded eyes never leaving his quarry’s He didn’t stop until they were practically touching noses, the guard’s face reflected in stereo in his lenses. He slowly reached inside his tuxedo jacket and produced one of the special invited given to note members of the team. To be afforded all courtesies, was the key phrase written on them, which Stone took to mean as back the fuck off.

The security man stood down quite a bit at Stone’s intensity, and even more at the invite. Still, he said, “I’m sorry, sir, but your friend set off our metal detector and is refusing to be wanded.”

With that, Stone turned and regarded Cueball, who actually managed to look sheepish for a ruthless prick.

“What?”

“We agreed…no weapons.” Stone replied.

“Fine,” Cueball said, holding his hands up in frustration. He snapped his fingers twice to get the security guard’s attention. “Hey, Snapperhead.”

Slowly and with deliberate movements he reached behind his back and produced a 9mm handgun. He handed this to Stone. Stone just stared back, unimpressed.

“All of them.”

Cueball screwed his mouth up and sighed. Then he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a hunting knife, which he also gave to Stone.

There was a lingering, pregnant pause as the two men stared each other down. Then Cueball growled, “Fine!” He lifted the leg of his jeans and pulled a small .22 automatic out of his white athletic tubesock, inside his right boot. He slammed it into Stone’s hand and stormed through the metal detector. It didn’t go off.

Stone sighed tiredly and handed the weapons to the security guard. “See that he gets these back on his way out.”

The exchange hadn’t been lost on the assembled press near the door.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” A pretty, rather insistent woman was ardently trying to get Stone’s attention. She gave Stone a helpless look, and the biker wondered why he agreed to this circus as he relented and walked over towards the woman and her camera.

Oh, now he’s hot, Danielle Ciders thought, and she directed her camera’s light handler to get on Stone. James Dean meets Randy Savage – rowr.

“Sir, who might you be?”

“People call me Stone,” he replied, finding himself amused by her cleavage and attitude.

“You can’t get them to stop?” she joked. When he didn’t laugh, she quickly changed course. “Stone, who are your guests?”

This was an opportunity he just couldn’t resist. Adopting what could be considered an almost genial presence, he turned to introduce the woman first.

“This is Corporal Shaliqua Brown, US Army,” Stone said.

“Retired,” Shaliqua quickly added. “Hi.”

Stone turned to the man. “This is Senior Chief Michael Delaqua, United States Coast Guard.”

“Also retired,” the man said politely. “Nice to meet you.”

A quizzical look flashed across Danielle’s face and she followed up with a semi-tactless, “Are you both part of Hudson City’s homeless population?”

The two of them appeared somewhat uncomfortable, but Stone stepped up and replied, “Yes, they are.”

“Are you trying to make a statement about the federal government’s treatment of veterans?”

"Not that I'm aware of."

Danielle didn't flinch. "But would you say that the federal government is failing in it's obligations where military veterans are concerned?"

Stone started to shepherd his guests away, but turned before the camera went off and added in his usual stoic monotone, “Hudson City has some twenty-five thousand homeless citizens, some thirty-five percent of which are veterans. What do you think?" And then he turned and left the reporter to her own ends.

A hunky oddball, but still an oddball she thought. Her beat was the celebrity beat, not politics. The subject was a downer. She doubted she could use it. Too bad, she thought, biting her lower lip lasciviously as her eyes followed Stone's ass up the stairs.

JACE's jets hummed as he zipped over the heads of the media and landed effortlessly on the steps. The tall attractive woman in his right arm dressed in a one of a kind evening gown was obviously more comfortable with the attention and the explosion of flashbulbs than the young girl in his left arm. She clung to his arm, looking around, her wide blue eyes perfectly matching her superbly tailored blue gown.

"It's alright, Emily," JACE smiled down at her, ignoring the shouted questions from the horde of reporters coming their way. He gestured vaguely behind him. "Their rudeness is one of the prices we pay for our uniqueness. The benefits are inside." When she gave a slightly spastic nod and a sick smile, he turned to Celeste. "Are you ready, my dear?"

"I think so, Jonathon. One of these days you'll have to take me somewhere in a limo. Flying is fun, but it can be murder on a hairdo." She laughed the silvery laugh JACE loved so much. He extended his arm to both of them and they started inside, only to get interrupted by a microphone shoved into his face by a determined young woman who seemed to be holding a pair of security guards off with her purse.

"Dr. Jace. Can you tell us why you are here tonight?" The question came out rather breathlessly as one of the guard grabbed at her arm, trying to pull her away with some dignity.

JACE looked down at her and the microphone and smiled. Inside he wanted nothing more than to knock her aside, but that wouldn't look good. Instead he leaned closer with a conspiratory smile. "Of course I can." As he spoke, his costume shimmered and became a tuxedo. Reporters all around leaned closer, trying to hear what he had to say. "I'm here, with my friends, to attend a New Year's Eve Party." He winked at the reporters, then escorted Emily and Celeste inside.

Expectant murmurs rippled through the crowd as another limo pulled up. It had barely come to a stop before a short, darkly handsome man poured out, along with a blare of music. The young man adjusted his designer tux and blinked into the fusillade of flashbulbs.

"Umberto!" yelled several reporters at once. "Umberto!"

From her prime spot, Danielle Ciders didn't have to shout to attract attention. "Umberto DiSantiago," she announced. "No DiSantiago fete would be complete," she continued for the edification of her viewers, "without the man who made the list of Hudson City's most eligible bachelors three years in a row."

Umberto smiled and took a few wavering steps towards Danielle. A second man quickly flowed out of the limo and unobtrusively caught him by the elbow. Danielle's smile widened a hair. It was no surprise that the party had already started for Umberto, but that he appeared to be escorted by his personal trainer was interesting. Danielle sized up the second man as the duo approached. There was something vaguely familiar about his rough hewn handsomeness and shaggy blond hair.

"Umberto," she cooed. "This is shaping up to be the party of the year. And it's not just a New Year's Eve party, is it? What's the surprise?"

"All I can say," he replied, "is that it will be a night to remember." His companion nudged him slightly, and Umberto remembered to smile and wave at the crowd.

"And is this your...plus one?" Danielle purred.

"Just one?" Umberto smiled. "Two's company, but six..." With the precision of clockwork - or to be more accurate, a prearranged move - the two men stepped back and turned towards the limo, where a pair of shapely legs was emerging. The crowd began to cheer as Glory Glam, darling of the local music scene, emerged, followed by her bandmates. All four were dressed in classic little black dresses, but accessorized with enough leather, metal, hair extensions, and their signature sequined handcuffs, to announce that four rock goddesses had arrived.

"It's Glamshackle!" said Danielle, a little more enthusiastically than she'd intended. "Our own princesses of power pop!" The four young women rolled their eyes, but to Danielle their excitement was palpable - and contagious. Her instincts told her that at this exact moment, the group was becoming the next big thing.

"Glory," she began brightly, but the musician ignored her to loudly ask, "Where's the party?!" A cheer went up from the crowd, and one man yelled, "Right here, baby!" Glory cackled, pointed at the fan and said, "I'll see you later."

The four women linked arms with the two men and sauntered towards the hotel. Danielle watched them depart and made a mental note to find out who Umberto\'s friend was. As if he'd read her mind, the man turned to look at her and wink. "I'm with the band," Ed smirked.

The next limo pulled up and the doors opened. Raphael DiSantiago exited first, accompanying the youthful, poised Jennifer. Then Javier and his wife: regal if not as vibrant. They ascended the carpet like the royal family, bulbs flashing in strobes. Reporters vied for the shot, the interview, the attention. Raphael was the only one entirely out of his element, but it didn’t show. The tuxedo was a Gucci. That helped.

At the base of the steps, Jennifer stopped. Of course, she did. She was sophisticated and elegant, but she was still a DiSantiago and she loved the press as much as they loved her. Raphael didn’t notice she had stopped until he heard her musical laugh. She was talking with Danielle Ciders from SuperHype. Danielle had brought her A-game. And her cleavage.

“And who do you have with you tonight, Jennifer?”

“This is my cousin, Raphael,” she said expertly, “And of course you know my aunt and uncle.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about tonight’s events? What your family has planned for us?”

Jennifer laughed again. Raphael knew it was put on, but the camera’s didn’t. They drank it up like champagne. “Oh, Danny,” she said like they were old college girl friends, “You’ll just have to wait and see.” A mischievous wink, the turn of a sultry shoulder, and they were moving again, swept up the stairs in a smooth motion that reminded Raphael of predators stalking their prey.

The festivity was alive in the hearts and mind of most of the guests as they arrived, but not everyone was having a good time. This was evidenced in the arrival of the Assistant District Attorney, Kate Sutherland.

"Michael--" Kate said, unsure herself whether she was going to argue or plead or concede defeat.

That\'s when the limo eased to a stop again, and the door beside Kate opened. She looked up, surprised, into the flash of cameras. Kate blinked, momentarily blinded, then stepped out of the limo. Michael eased out to stand beside her. The flashes abated. No doubt the photographers had realized they weren't celebrities.

Kate glanced up at Michael. He smiled at her and held out his elbow. Kate took his arm and started up the carpet toward the door. She had never been so happy to be a mostly anonymous civil servant. She didn't think she could bear to speak to a reporter just now.

There was an exclamation of surprise from the back of the pack of media hounds. Heads turned and, almost simultaneously, people stepped to one side or the other to made a path through the crowd. As the last of the bodies parted a figure was revealed, tall, muscular, masked. He wore a uniform of dark green and grey, reinforced at the joints. Around his waist was a belt containing a mix of pockets and pouches and a few things that didn't go into either. From just over one shoulder protruded a three-section staff, folded and contained in neat sheath. Slung low on his right hip was a holstered hand-gun.

Moving with a confident step he most assuredly didn't feel, Nemesis walked toward the entrance of the hotel. One camera flashed, and as if that was a signal, there was a sudden frenzy of flashes. Fortunately his goggles shielded him from the worst of it, but it was awfully distracting.

There was a growing mummer throughout the crowd. It took a moment for Nemesis to recognize his name being passed from person to person. It looked as if his recent publicity paid off.

Finally one woman stepped forward, her hand raised.

"Nemesis!"

The vigilante smiled and turned toward her. She was a dark-haired cutie bundled fashionably against the cold. Her microphone held in front of her like a shield, she boldly stepped forward. Nemesis stopped politely and let her approach.

“Hello, Sandra.” Nemesis’ smile grew warmer, if that was possible. Sandra Huston had done a piece on him a couple weeks’ back, shortly after a photo was taken while he was bundling up some perps for the local cops. Her show, Hudson Beat, was highly rated.

“What brings you here?” Sandra asked him bluntly.

“Crab cakes.”

The reporter blinked. “Crab cakes?”

Nemesis nodded. “Crab cakes. They’re delicious here.” He made to move past her but she side-stepped quickly.

“Come now, Nemesis. You’re one of the city’s most talked-about vigilantes. What brings you out of the shadows tonight?”

“Can’t a masked vigilante working for the good of all simply go to a party?” He laughed, a few of the surrounding press laughing with him, then caught someone else’s eye.

“And how are you, Jennifer?”

The news anchor for Channel 7 news did a double take, the question on her lips falling away in surprise.

“Sorry,” Nemesis apologized. “I should have said ‘Mrs. Morris.’” He shrugged away the apology. “I’m a big fan.”

“No.” The attractive brunette shook her head, her smile returning. “Jennifer is fine.” She gave a short shake of her head, then pressed forward. “Is there any truth to the rumors regarding your involvement with the difficulties plaguing the Marcelli family?”

Nemesis shrugged, still smiling. “Wouldn’t matter if there was, would it,” he said simply. “But we’re at a gala, Jennifer. If you’ll excuse me I’m expected inside.”

“You are?” the reported asked. “You’re invited?”

“Of course,” Nemesis replied, showing his invitation as he moved down the red carpet. “I’d be here anyway, but this way they finally get me to use the front door.” He waved and moved into the press of…well, press.

Another uproarious murmur traveled through the crowd as the security at the front door stepped aside in deference to the weapon clad hero. Slight nods and Good Evening Mr. Nemesis were the only things heard from the security team that had, up till now been giving each new arrival a thorough processing before allowing them through. The loud buz of the metal detector sounded as a seemingly nonchalant Nemesis walked through. Only the grand double doors stood between him and the party.

Two of the guards nearest him stiffened a bit as their attention focused on the street in front of the hotel. There was a line three limousines deep, as each awaited their turn to display their Hudson City's finest. The fourth limo however seemed to be having some trouble, as it stopped and then started, the tire angling a bit away from the sidewalk, until finally it left it's place in line. It angled towards the motorcycle gang nearest to it and began a slow approach.

A couple of cameras turned to zoom in on the action, but the distance was too great for them to put a name to the female figure that stepped out of the car, or the man that followed close behind. Even with the distance and limousine, that separated them from the scene further down the block, it was obvious that there was a mild confrontation of some sort unfolding.

Nemesis turned almost laconically, his eyes narrowing under his goggles. Only someone who knew him well and was paying attention would see the tension in his body as he recognized the female. Rather, he recognized that a particular female was unlikely to let Stone's "show of force" go without comment. He made a mental note to kick that particular biker's ass, then turned and walked inside.

"You ready for this sis?" Gabriel inquired as the Frazier's limo came to a halt at the red carpet. Celeste just flashed her plastic party smile and nodded towards the door. She then noticed the cameras turning to focus on the motorcycle debacle.

\"Grrrrllll" a low growl escaped her lips, she knew only Ophilia would be throwing a tantrum over the bikers,\"Leave it to that DeeSAN-tiago princess to steel my thunder."

"Oh sweet, no one could overshadow your presence." Gabriel assured her.

The limo driver opened the door and the flashes began immediately as Gabriel Frazier, the youngest of the Frazier clan, stepped out onto the red carpet. The photographers were eager to catch the site of the Barbi he selected to ring in the new year. Gabriel extended his hand into the limo for his sister. She graciously accepted and stepped out, instantly smiling and posing for the cameras, working the media like only a red carpet veteran could. She stretched out from her brothers grasp, allowing the media to catch the full effect of her dress, tightly ruched top, with a slit coming to the tip of her thigh, displaying the splendor of her toned legs, the less than modest neckline granted a view of her superbly formed breast. A perfect picture of poise and grace in her scandalous black dress. A perfect contrast to Ophilia DiSantiago's frustrated display back by the bikers.

"Celeste!" the media simultaneously called her name trying to get her attention. Danielle was picked out of the crowd and the Fraziers made their way to the gossip diva, posing for photo ops along the way.

"What a treat!" Danielle exclaimed, with an air of scandal in her voice. "It's not often we see the two of you at a DiSantiago party. So what is this event all about? I just MUST know." Danielle was feeling more comfortable with her typical prey.

"Well Danielle, your surprise shocks me, you know it's not a worthy party in Hudson City without our Celeste." Gabriel gibed.

"So Celeste, do you know what\'s going down tonight?"

An easy smile slid on to Celeste\'s face, "I'll leave the unveiling to the DiSantiagos, I wouldn't want to go stealing anyone's thunder now would I? But I will tell you It will be very exciting." With that, Celeste linked arms with her brother and headed into the party, turning to pose for one more picture at the top of the steps before going through security.

Across the street the rhythmic clanging of the bikers had stopped and the tension had seemed to ebb out of the situation. It took about ten minutes, but eventually the woman in the white dress and the man in the tuxedo got back into their limo unharmed. The limo remained an interest point for some of the curious reporters, as it made it's way down the block to the other group of bikers. But after the first situation didn't prove as climactic as they had expected, most of the attention returned to be lavished upon the constant stream of guests.

The limo rounded the last corner, and coasted to a stop behind a few others, all waiting to unleash their passengers on the media frenzy in front of the hotel. Sebastián hardly noticed however, he was far too busy kissing the woman sitting next to him. Since she’d gotten into the limo, the air had been filled with that super-charged High School Prom vibe, and he was going along with it.

As the limo moved closer, the driver’s voice came over the intercom. “Please excuse me, Dr. DiSantiago, but we’re next, you had asked me to give you a bit of warning.”

The sad sigh emitted from the woman next to him echoed Sebastián’s own feelings, and briefly he considered telling the driver to pull out of line and drive around some more, but responsibility reared it’s ugly head and after a final lingering moment, he broke the kiss.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked her.

“Am I ready for a strut down the red carpet, I do this almost daily you know.” She replied with a smile.

“Yes, but this is different, this is a DiSantiago party, what you are used to and what we are stepping into tonight are two different things altogether.” He answered.

“Well, I’m ready for whatever. You’ve been dangling this secret in front of me for weeks now, and besides, if it gets bad we’ve got that luxury room upstairs. I’m sure we can make the best of tonight, in any event. “ She grinned as she spoke.

The limo coasted to a stop, and the door was opened, releasing the tidal wave of flashbulbs. Stepping out, Sebastián smiled and waved, before turning back and helping his date out of the vehicle. As soon as the crowd saw her, the frenzy stepped up a level.

“OHMYGOD that’s Marissa Mendez, the movie star!”

”We love you Marissa!”

Slipping his arm around her waist, Sebastián started the slow walk up the carpet, when Danielle cut him off.

“Oscar award nominee Marissa Mendez has shown up folks, on the arms of a DiSantiago! Marissa, you are supposed to be on location filming your next movie, how did you get away?”

“Well, when a DiSantiago invites you to a party, you don’t say no. When a DiSantiago invites you to THE party of the year, you move heaven and earth to make it. I just told the director I was going, and he could wait for me or recast the part.”

Danielle turned the microphone to Sebastián. “What kind of party is this, that your family is throwing? We’ve seen a lot of unusual guests arrive already.”

Giving her his most cryptic smile, Sebastián answered “Well my dear Danielle, I believe it’s called a New Year’s Eve party, it happens once a year you know.”

With that, he smiled again to her and the crowd, as he escorted Marissa away, into the hotel.

The climate across the street warmed up again as the limo stopped in front of the other motorcycle gang. This time when the door opened and the couple stepped out, the piqued curiosities of the bikers seemed more welcoming than the last group. A few minutes passed and then a collective and very crude sounding cheer went up among the group, obviously pleased by some New Year's surprise. The woman in the white dress raised her hand up in a signal that the lead biker of the Killer's seemed to understand. In a slow, inch by inch retreat, both lead bikers exited the scene. There was a palpable feel of chicken as each biker exited the block, very cautious that they didn't go any faster or slower than the other gang -- but with a strong determination to be at least as loud as the other. Where they were going and why was now as big a mystery as why they were there to begin with.

It was hard to determine whether it was their intention to make a big entrance or not, but the next couple caused quite a stir as they began walking from the limo across the street. Some of the press that had been keeping a close eye on the volatile situation, were very eager to learn which of the party goers were so invested in tonight's event that they were willing to have an impromptu meeting, with not one, but TWO of Hudson City\'s most dangerous gangs. While they made the short walk across the street a few more guests arrived to little fanfare, as the media's attention was riveted on the approaching couple.

The woman's eager pace was leading the two of them, and if her body language was any indication, she was in a hurry to arrive at the party. She wore a tight fitting white dress that was set off beautifully against her dark complexion. Her long dark hair cascaded freely over her shoulders and she carried herself with a dignity and grace that told everyone looking that she belonged there. The man that was holding her hand, pulled her back in a smooth motion, reining her in, until she took his lead and fluidly fell into step with him.

Mason Willoughby stood at least a foot taller than the pretty woman that was holding his hand, and he was the first to be recognized by the local reporter of the Hudson City Beat. Just as quickly as Sandra Huston saw him, the name of his guest immediately spilled off of her tongue as she began her approach. Her tone was conspiratorial as she spoke intimately to her camera man and her devoted audience.

She stepped off the street in between two limos with her entourage following closely. "Approaching the Stewart Regency Hotel, right now, is Hudson City Royalty Mason Willoughby and Ophilia DiSantiago. These two have kept everyone, including their families speculating for years as to just how serious they are. This couple was witnessed only moments ago in a very unusual encounter with two nefarious biker gangs that had shown up unexpectedly to dampen the spirits of party goers. Perhaps they will let us know what exactly happened across the street!"

Ophilia affected a pretty smile for the woman as she braced herself for the interview. Inside she was a bundle of nerves and terribly disappointed that she was arriving late. She knew that the majority of the guests would think it was just another DiSantiago making a fashionably late entrance, she could only hope that her new team would realize that wasn't the case. To her relief, Sandra beamed her coy smile and bright brown eyes on Mason first.

"Mason Willoughby! You are looking incredible tonight." Sandra bubbled with enthusiasm as she gave him an even brighter smile, "Will we be scratching your name off of, this year's list of Hudson City's most eligible bachelors?" At this she gave Ophilia an adorable cocked eyebrow that said without saying 'aren't you the lucky girl'.

Mason chuckled, "You\'ll be the first to know," he said with humor.

As Mason answered, Phi let go of his hand and slipped her arm though his, leaning into him in a mock display of possessiveness. She tried not to, but she couldn't keep her eyes from scanning the crowd in front of the doors, taking careful inventory of who was seeing this show.

Sandra smiled and continued, "So, have you saved any more damsel's in distress since the incident in the park?" She was referring to a well publicized event from a few months earlier when he had saved a girl from attackers in LeMastre\'s Park. The event had spurred Mason to found the LeMastre's Park Initiative or LPI as it was called. It was a comprehensive project that not only found and provided funding for beautifying and policing of the park, but also a soup kitchen, temporary housing, and resourcing to help Hudson City\'s homeless population with medical needs, skills education, employment, and housing. As a result, the crime rate in LeMastre's Park had been deeply impacted.

Mason chuckled again, clearly at ease in the public eye, "Are you kidding? I had to find a damsel to save me." He gestured toward Ophilia as he said this, expertly directing Sandra over to his date for the evening, and the organizer of the event.

The crafty reporter shifted gears easily at Mason's comment and beamed her attention on Ophilia. "So...? Do you have any insights that you can share concerning this mysterious charitable endeavor? I can't help but notice the diversity among the guests this evening."

Despite her eagerness to hurry into the party, Ophilia couldn't keep a genuine grin from stealing onto her face. "Well, Sandra...I can't really go into details, but I promise that you'll find out in a couple of hours. I will tell you though, that I'm very proud to be a part of it, and that it will shape the face of our city from the moment we step into the new year." She paused for a moment as if considering whether to continue, and whether it was planned or the contagious glint in the reporter's eyes, she did. "Every... single... one, of Hudson City's residents will rise in the morning, to a year full of hope and promise as we unleash our efforts to bring the pride back to our city."

Sandra Huston was a bit surprised to have gotten as much as she had from the young DiSantiago, and Ophilia tried to take that momentary lapse as an opportunity to make her exit. Unfortunately, the seasoned reporter slid too quickly into another question. "Well, then... Will you at least shed some light on what the commotion across the street was? It isn't every day that the Killers and the Forbidden call a truce. How did the DiSantiagos manage to pull that off? ...and what were they doing here?"

Phi took a moment to swallow, but only Mason could feel the heartbeat's hesitation before she replied. In truth, she had been as surprised as anyone else to see the gangs, and this was the first she had heard that there was a truce in place. Her profession, however, relied on her quick thinking and fast talking and her reply slid out as easily as if she'd rehearsed it. "It's just a small taste of the hope that will define our evening tonight. Unfortunately we didn't have enough invitations to accommodate the entire group, so they will be enjoying their evening at a private party at another location tonight."

With that, Ophilia gave the cute reporter a slight inclination of her hand as she moved to make her way up the steps. Several other reporters had questions, but the determined couple managed to make it up to security with a few random comments, waves and nods of their heads. The ambitious Danny Ciders was not the least bit pleased that she missed out on the exclusive, but since they weren't wearing a mask, she quickly consoled herself by remembering that they were beneath her.

Having had to go back for her invitation Heatwave was afraid she would be the last of the team to arrive. What a way to make an impression on her new employers, being late to the party that would unveil the Conquistadors to the city, but she need not have worried. As she flew up to the hotel she saw Ophilia DiSantiago with a man who could only be her date crossing the street in front of the hotel.

The throng of reporters waiting at the door had turned their attention to the arriving couple and one had even taken her crew into the street to meet Ophilia. Taking the opportunity to slip in unnoticed, Heatwave landed near the doors, much to the surprise of the security detail greeting each of the guests. One of the men moved to stop her but fell back when she held up one of the invitations which told security the holder was a special guest of the DiSantiago's. Another of the guards opened the door for her and she quickly slipped inside just as one of the reporters noticed her. The reporter, a man from one of the local news stations, tapped his camera man on the shoulder and pointed toward the door, hoping to catch some footage of the mysterious guest, but he was too late. The door was closing behind Heatwave and all he was able to manage was a shot of her back as she walked slowly through the lobby.