Sebastian took his turn in the spotlight following the Willoughby success.  His was an interesting exchange of bids, fueled by his family name and his boyish good looks.  Angelo gave a colorful narration.  A few minutes later, after a familiar six-figured call, Sebastian was escorting a pair of very enthusiastic forty-something divorcees.

Lana and Edison added their polite applause to the fray as Sebastian made his exit off of the catwalk.  Then they returned to their companionable conversation, both leaning low over the table, in a very promising display of body language.  Most people could tell that the meeting was an enjoyable affair for both involved.

"...so?" Lana began again. "Was that Umberto DiSantiago that you were talking to?"

"Umberto?" Edison glanced casually around to see if the subject of conversation was anywhere nearby. "I know him socially, as well as doing some business with him and his family. I think he was a bit put off tonight that he didn't get to strut his stuff on stage."

He gave a small wry grin. "Do you know him?"

"I know of him."  Lana admitted.  "...but I don't know him.  Which of the other DiSantiagos do you know?"  She might have fancied herself the coy type, but Edison could see through her pleasantries to the underlying curiosity at her core.  Something about the DiSantiagos held her interest and he could tell that this is where she'd been trying to lead the conversation.

Willing to play along, Edison sat back and cocked his head as he pondered. "Well, let's see. I've met Raphael DiSantiago a few times. I've talked with Dr. Sebastian, both on and off the couch.

"And, of course" he finished, leaning back forward with a speculative look towards Lana. "there's Ms. Ophilia..."

"Yes, now I've met her a couple of times.  She used to handle the marketing and publicity for DiSantiago Enterprises.  How well do you know Ophilia?"

"Oh, I've done business with Phi a number of times," Edison said lightly, waving it off. His eyebrow raised, he added, "Sounds to me that so have you."

He smiled, that roguish twinkle back in his eye. "And what sort of business are you in, Lana?"

"Marketing."  She said it easily, but something about her mannerisms made Edison wonder just how true that statement was.  "Oh.  The Conquistadors are up!"  Whether it was true interest or an effort to change the subject, she turned her head to listen to Angelo.  "Do you know any of the Conquistadors?  That's what Ophilia does now, isn't it?"

"As a matter of fact, yes and yes. Ophilia is involved with the Conquistadors and I've met with some of them several times. How often have you?" Edison said, in a conversational voice that still carried a "I know what you did last summer" undertone. He was playing a hunch, based on Lana's evasiveness, and hoping he wasn't showing his cards prematurely.

"I don't know any of the Conquistadors."  She admitted.  "...but I've seen them at some appearances.  The entire idea is very exciting."

Edison grinned. "Would you like to meet them? I'm sure I can arrange something. We can chat with Ophilia once the auction is over." The thought of introducing Ophilia to her potential doppelganger amused him. He looked towards her table...

After the applause (and laughter) had subsided, Angelo reclaimed the focus of attention.  "It's a night for surprises," he remarked, still chuckling.  "Our next bachelor is no exception, in more ways than one.  Not much is known about this mysterious out-of-towner and last-minute addition to our fine city's recently announced Conquistadors.  Ladies, I would like to introduce to you, Stone."

A murmur ran through the crowd at the calling of his name.  Many of those in attendance had never heard of Stone before the big reveal at New Years.  Since the seed of mystery had been planted it had grown throughout Hudson City's society circles like ivy.  These were well connected people, and the usual sources of public information had revealed exactly nothing about who he was or where he came from.

Having a theory about Stone's origins was considered chic, the more plausible and/or fantastic the theory the greater social status was conferred.  Tara Winston, present this evening, had achieved a sort of ambassadorial status among her peers when it got out that she'd possibly spent the night with him, but she wasn't telling, instead playing the mystery out for all the enviable attention it was worth with her girlfriends.

Even the vaunted DiSantiagos seemed to be playing coy when asked about the man.  That led to two schools of thought: either Stone was dangerous and the DiSantiagos didn't want it to get out, or, even more intriguing, the DiSantiagos didn't know themselves.  The possibility of the latter being true, despite all the famed DiSantiago money, power, and influence, was something everyone viewed as unlikely as they hoped it might be true if only to reveal a chink in the ever-perfect family armor.

Angelo seemed confused as nobody took the stage.  The murmur had run throughout the crowd and circled back for a return trip as the assembled bidders and spectators waited impatiently for Stone to come out from backstage.  All eyes were on the space where the curtains met, from where both Mason and Sebastian had stepped out to be auctioned.

It was Angleo who spotted him first as he entered through the wide double doors in the back of the ballroom that led from there to the bar.  He managed a straight face but the smile had slipped, his hand gripping the microphone a bit harder than usual.  His focus made others look as well and as more people noticed him, the trickling murmur turned into a conversational wave.

Stone walked purposefully yet not quickly, his well-worn black leather boots making drumbeats along the hardwood floor.  His jeans were faded and blue.  His faded black T-shirt was tucked in and tight against his body but semi-hidden under a dark leather biker jacket. 

The jacket was the same one he'd been wearing since joining the team, but today it sported a new, surprisingly well-done patch job on the back.  Centered was a large graphic of the Conquistador's crest.  It sported eagle's wings to either side and was framed by rose-laden ivy.  Above was a third patch spread across in an arc, bearing gothic lettering that read "CONQUISTADORS MC".  Underneath the crest was a third patch, an off-white tape banner with the words "HONOR - STRENGTH - UNITY" from left to right.

His long dark brown locks were gathered tightly behind him in a simple rubber band he'd grabbed from the bar.  His sunglasses, plain and cheap but dark, were in place as always.  His face was set in... well... stone, a stoic mask of calm certainty he'd perfected over many years facing greater - but perhaps less annoying - dangers than a bachelor auction.

The wave of conversation had slowly surged as Stone made his way down the center aisle towards the stage.  He rode it like a wave, implacable, never sparing a glance at the people to either side.  He turned left at the stage and followed it to the brief set of narrow steps all the way at its end which he used to get up onto the stage floor.  He passed right by Angelo DiSantiago without look or comment, much to the host's chagrin, and finally took a casual stance center stage, right on his taped "x" mark.

"Anytime you're ready, Champ," he said ostensibly to Angelo while affecting his typical disaffected pose, shaded eyes watching over the crowd, almost daring the well-heeled women of Hudson City to bid.

A dark shadow passed over Angelo DiSantiago's face at the obvious slight.  With the skill of a master showman, however, he read the crowd's anticipatory vibe and quickly substituted a remarkably believeable attitude of pleasant surprise and excitement. 

"We'll start the bidding at--."

"Fifty thousand," she called from the back of the room.

Angelo laughed.  "Eager, Carlotta?  Careful, you'll scare them."

"That's the idea," she said with a sneer.

Danny had watched the slow stroll with open-mouthed wonderment. Stone radiated a casual indifference that had to be years in the making, and the young McClain was impressed. "That's grand, that is..." he finally said, in a sort of awed hushed voice. He then quickly leaned in towards Ophilia. "If cool were lethal radiation, we'd all be dead," he said in a serious voice. "The man's a menace." 

Phi nodded her head at that.  "He does radiate that vibe.  I was worried about it at first, but the press can't get enough of him."  Her gaze pinged and ponged between the table with her friends, Christie Danner and Tara Winston, and the lone figure of Carlotta Cruise, as the bet was batted back and forth between them.

Tara would up the bet by five grand and Carlotta would up it by another ten.  Finally, when the bet hit seventy grand, Tara fell out of the running.  No one else seemed interested in challenging the woman directly, Angelo's comment about CC scaring them, seemed to be true.  Finally, after a swift kick under the table from Tara, Christie Danner continued to bid until it reached one hundred thousand.  Then she too, shook her head, and clasped her hands over the briefcase in front of her, adamantly refusing any further prodding from her friend to continue bidding.

The bid was about to close at one hundred twenty grand.  "Going once.  Going twice.  So...wait a minute."  Angelo said with genuine surprise in his voice, as Ophilia raised her hand for the first time that evening.

There was a look of humor and respect on Carlotta's face when Phi outbid her, and for whatever reason, she didn't make a counter offer.  But for those that knew her reputation, they knew that it had nothing to do with the price tag.  For his part, Stone looked at his boss from his perch on stage with a mixture of confusion and concern. 

Now that Carlotta didn't have the winning bid, another lady in the back trumped Phi. 

"We have one hundred and twenty thousand," Angelo confirmed to the crowd.  "One hundred and twenty..."

The evening's host looked at Stone semi-expectantly.  Stone returned his what-the-fuck-are-you-looking-at look for a second or two before realizing what was being asked of him. 

With a sigh he took a step forward and, after giving the crowd one more stare, removed his jacket.  He dropped it on the floor next to him and rolled his shoulders once, letting the snug t-shirt say what it had to say.  An appreciative murmur from the women in the crowd rose to a scattered applause when, after a brief pause, a new bidder jumped in.

"One hundred and thirty thousand," announced Angelo DiSantiago.  "Welcome to the bidding Ms. Havekamp."

Stone peered out into the crowd to see a white-haired elderly woman with an oxygen tank on wheels staring back at him and... was that drool?   His head turned to see Carlotta Cruise clearly amused from where she sat in the rear.  Sunglasses or no, she could read Stone's signals and seemed to be enjoying making up her mind about saving him or not.

Angelo seemed to be enjoying himself more, too.  Perhaps to get some back he made closing noises.  "I have one hundred thirty thousand.  Going once...."

Stone took one more step forward, nearly to the edge of the stage now.  He paused, and then reached up and pulled out the rubber band from his hair.  He shook his head and let it settle around his face and shoulders ruggedly.

The women in the crowd clapped or laughed, most picking up on Stone's uncomfortable situation.  Carlotta laughed, too, but then raised her hand again as an acknowledgement, this time with an air of triumphant finality. 

"One hundred forty," Angelo noted with the barest hint of disappointment.  "One hundred forty thousand dolllars is the bid." 

Dame Havekamp made a "Feh" noise and a dismissive swiping gesture at Angelo, who nodded respectfully.  "One hundred forty thousand then...Going once... twice... One hundred fifty!  One hundred fifty thousand is the bid."

Ophilia's hand was going down as the crowd turned her way.  Stone looked confused again but Carlotta seemed to have lost her drive.  Still amused, she regarded the DiSantiago woman with a small nod of respect and held both of her hands up in defeat.  Then she sighed, turned her attentions to the stage, and offered Stone a small, apologetic shrug before giving Angelo a brief shake of her head.

"One hundred fifty once, twice...sold to Ophilia DiSantiago for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

* * * * *

After a brief backstage hiatus, Sebastian reappeared into the crowd just in time to witness the escalated (somewhat amusing) bidding for his teammate.  Navigating the crowd was borderline claustrophobic, as women were practically falling over themselves to get closer to the show.  As he passed the stage, however, there was a spark.  Somewhere in the pit of his mind.  It was brief and fleeting and he barely had time to register the feeling before it passed.  The moment his foot left the floor, his position changed and the flash was gone.  But the residual dread in its wake was palpable.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Sebastián looked around, taking in everything around him. 

He took a tenative step backwards, trying to see if the flash would resurface, in the back of his mind knowing that it would not likely happen.  Something was wrong, he knew, but to his frustration he couldn't pinpoint what that something was. He'd come to realize these flashes were a warning, but more often than not they were not specific enough.  Between the crush of women trying to get to closer to Stone, and the recent flash, he needed some air.  As he tried to make his way backstage again, to one of the exits, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the cold sweat from his brow.  He hated not knowing, and this was going to drive him crazy.

Despite his retraced steps, the flash never returned.  It chewed at the corner of his thoughts, however, etching its own memory.  He couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling in its wake.  He came full circle around the stage, nearest the bar where the crowd was dense.  Stone had departed and Angelo was again claiming the spotlight.  Sebastian found it hard to concentrate on what his uncle was saying.

As he looked across the room, he caught sight of his sister.  The expression on her face made him pause.

Trying desperately to catch his sister's eye, Sebastián pushed everything else out of his thoughts, he tried to will her to look his way.  Not getting her attention, he reached out with his mind. {Phi...}

(Continued below)

* * * * *

A plump young woman poked her head around the crimson curtain and spotted Nemesis at the ready.  By no fault of her own, she momentarily forgot her line.  It was the third time it happened to her, which was every time she saw him.  Her cheeks darkened just a shade.  Her eyes batted once.  She tried to hide it and force herself from paralysis.  Hers was a simple task, really.  She swallowed, wet her lips, glanced away.

"You're up," she said.

Nearby his cell phone buzzed.

Nemesis smiled at the girl and held up one finger, taking out his cell phone and looking at the caller ID.

He frowned at the unknown number on the screen, then tabbed the ringer quiet. He didn't know who it was, and if it was important they'd leave a voice mail. Either way it could wait until after the auction.

Setting the phone to vibrate he placed it in the appropriate pouch on his utility belt--a light-weight affair and certainly not his usual be-prepared-for-anything accouterments--and took several deep breaths.

"Okay," he said to himself. "Let's go to work."

In the audience, Danny McClain couldn't help but notice that Ophilia was becoming a bit restless.  As if bidding on Stone wasn't odd enough, her behavior was bordering on agitation, even her breathing seemed off, perhaps louder or faster than usual.  Vincent had also noticed the silent but peculiar behavior and shared a glance with Javier and Danial, obviously not certain if he should bring it up or not.

Javier, obviously had no such concerns as he leaned in towards her, his presence as heavy as his massive shoulders.  "What the hell's wrong with you, Baby?"  Despite his terse phrase there was concern in his low gravelly voice.

She offered him a smile and shook her head, leaning down to pick up her purse as she did so.  "I don't know Javie.  I think it's my heart."  Even as she spoke she was rummaging around in her bag, an unusual accessory for her, and pulled out a small pill box.  She took one of them, and swallowed it down with some water.

Then she looked at Danny with her best effort at a grin.  "Probably just too much cool for me to handle.  eh?"  Already her gaze was back on the stage, her breathing still heavy as she watched the curtain.  Nemesis was the last man up for auction and she seemed eager to have the event over with.

She felt a hand covering her own where it rested on the table, warm and strong. When she glanced down, her brows coming together in irritation at the unwanted contact, she saw Daniel looking up at her. "Just say tha word, and it can go away." His blue eyes were serious above his seemingly ever-present grin, and he was leaning close so that only she could hear what he was offering. "I can't believe ya had a problem and didn't tell me. Between you and that mule-stubborn Soldier Boy, I hafta wonder what I'm even doin on this team half the time." 

The offer shouldn't have come as a surprise, but it did and seemed to help focus her.  "No."  There was regret in her voice and a stubborn set in her eyes as she shook her head again.  "Not yet.  I have to prove I can do this on my own, as I am."  Even as she heard her own excuse, she knew it was stupid.  Not a single one of her team would want her living with her condition if it could be fixed.  But at some point, she had tuned her internal worth into earning a spot on the team, and taking Danny up on his offer felt a bit too much like cheating.

"Ya know that's bollocks, sure and ya do," he whispered back, shaking his head, but removing his hand after giving hers a gentle squeeze. "But I'll always be here, should ya change yer mind." He leaned back into his own chair, turning his attention to the curtain again. 

Phi nodded her head, but seemed distracted again, her face twisted a bit as she watched Nemesis make his exit onto the stage.  Angelo's voice a wash of sound behind her other senses, that odd tingling that she got in the pit of her stomach when something wasn't right.  She began to let her senses out, one by one, to look, to feel. ...more.  To find out what was wrong, but there was a flash of red.  followed by a flash of black...no.  a flash of nothingness.

"Sit down before you pass out," Javier instructed roughly.  "I'll get you a water."

"I'm on it!"  Vinny said as he popped out of his chair, obviously concerned for his cousin.  He maneuvered easily through the room, and made his way to the bar.

Javier’s suggestion went unanswered, as Phi shifted uncomfortably, torn about what to do. She couldn’t halt the event, she had no control here, she wasn’t even sure if whatever was going wrong was going to happen here. She looked around the interior for a fire alarm or something similar, something that would evacuate the area with haste and without question.

As Ophilia searched, she caught Danny’s gaze and shook her head.  “Something is …”  and then her face paled, her deep brown eyes becoming reflective pools as the sheen of unshed tears emerged.  “Oh god.  Something is wrong.”

Danny stood, eyes narrowed in concern. One hand went to Ohpilias brow, wisps of black smoke lost in the semi-darkness of the room. His focus softened as he listened to whatever internal senses he'd summoned to assess his cousins situation.

"Ladies!" The speaker boomed with a familiar, jovial voice.  "Our final bachelor needs no introduction... But that's never stopped me before."  He laughed.  They laughed. 

It was as if Sebastian's senses were heightened.  Every light glared into his eyes.  Every sound thundered.  The anticipatory crowd was oppressively hot and women's voices were fingernails on a chalkboard.  Someone shouldered past him rudely and with the contact, the flash returned, blinding him.

Whomever pushed their way past him spun the already distracted and unsteady Sebastián around, and he reached out to steady himself, grabbing the shoulder and waist of a blond woman who was cheering for the next bachelor. She spun around, recognized him and gave him a smile, which he did not return. With a huff, she pulled away from him and turned around, and started cheering again. The cacophony of sounds assaulted him, almost physically, and his breathing was becoming labored. Blinded, and almost deaf he tried again to reach his sister {Phi, something is wrong... something....}

"Its with great pleasure and personal pride that I introduce the very icon of Hudson City heroism, the former vigilante-turned-leader of our very own Conquistadors team, the one and only..." 

He paused.  The crowd screamed in anticipation. 

{I know.  ...but where?  ...what?  Here?  Now?}  Ophilia's stomach sank into a greasy, uneasy pit and her head was suddenly light.

{Yes.. .here and now. I.. I don't know what!!}  the panic and fear ran roughshod over his mind, with an undertone of frustration.  The weight of impending doom was crushing him, but he could not act, frozen by fear and uncertainty.  All he knew was it was bad, biblically cataclysmically bad, and it was coming. 

Sebastián kept his gaze focused on his sister as best he could, with the oppressive, foreboding doom weighing down upon him, his last words to her echoing in his own mind. She did not answer, as she made her way onstage, and then the screaming started.  Some of the women around him turned, shifting into his field of vision, and he lost track of Ophilia.