<strong>Name:</strong>Susan Storm<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Manhattan - Stark Tower<br/><strong>Wherabouts:</strong>Lounge.<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>See post.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Logan<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i1203.photobucket.com/albums/bb396/rubixon/suta_zps502081ba.jpg)</div><br/>"You can't 'weaponize' finance and not expect--"<br/><br/>Josh's laughter cut in, bitter and barking. "Waitwaitwait. You can't possibly think the 'weaponization' of financial markets is going to bring the former Soviet Union crashing down."<br/><br/>After a pause long enough to take another hit off the joint, Avaline met Josh's incredulous laughter with a snicker of her own. "And you can't tell me that the Soviet markets AREN'T going to feel their currency crisis, or, HEY, HOW ABOUT A PLUMMETING GAS COST!"<br/><br/>It was Don Kueller, the second highest rated primetime news anchor on television, and the man who'd invited Sue to such a New Years shindig, who arrived at Sue's elbow with a chuckle on his lips and the smoking joint in his hand. He took another long drag off it, before Susan outright stole it from his fingertips--not to put it out, but to take her long, long, drag off the joint.<br/><br/>"Can't believe I'm smoking a joint with an Avenger."<br/><br/>Don's voice a whisper, like he was afraid everyone else at the party--some nearly a hundred folks, all staffers of Don's 9PM show--would hear him. "I can't believe I'm smoking a joint around all these journalists." Her own pink lips smirked as big, bright, blue eyes snuck a peek at the news anchor from over her shoulder, before finally deciding on a song to select on the large television currently being used as the party's jukebox: Miike Snow's "A Song For No One."<br/><br/>Sue found it fitting, considering.<br/><br/>Don's lips had become a wry, near sardonic, grin. "It's not like any of us are<em>really</em>journalists..." Don liked to joke he was no 'real' newsman because he had to worry about ad-buys and ratings and focus groups. The look Susan Storm's blue eyes gave the news man she respected more than nearly other, said all that needed to be said about her disagreements. Don's hands rose innocently into the air, palms out, as Susan took yet another long hit from the joint and turned her body just-so to give Don the full effect of her 'look.' "Okay, okay, we're journalists."<br/><br/>"OH PLEASE!!"<br/><br/>Susan actually winced as the yell washed over the room. As Josh's yell, the head strong and entirely too smart for his own good Senior Producer, caught them unprepared. Or, rather, caught Susan by surprise. Everyone else, Don included, seemed used to Josh by now. The sudden rise in volumn had surprised her, but not when Josh and Avaline turned to someone to referee their little debate.<br/><br/>"Miss Storm."<br/><br/>Sue had just handed the joint back to Don when Josh addressed her from across the room. Just in time for Susan to cough, violently, from the smoke coming out of her high glossed lips and nostrils.<br/><br/>"She wasn't smoking, I was." Don spoke up, trying to deny the obvious--because everyone hadn't just seen Susan smoking. Judging from the smirks on everyone's faces, including Josh and Avaline's, it was pretty clear Don's denial was more bad joke than something to be taken seriously. Especially for a kid with more combat experience than most Army soldiers, not to mention a Princeton education, like Josh. Or Avaline, a girl who at nearly the same age as Susan had covered two wars and graduated from Smith College and Harvard Journalism school.<br/><br/>"Miss Storm," Josh, still trying to stiffle a laugh, returned to the point in question.<br/><br/>Just as Susan was elbowing Don to hurry up with the joint, before it went out. "Yes, Josh?"<br/><br/>"What would YOU say is the biggest threat facing the world in 2015?"<br/><br/>Her immediate response was non-verbal: those big blue eyes snapped up from the joint being handed back to her, to Josh's eyes. Then Avaline's eyes. Susan knew what had started their 'debate'--the Eurasia Group's 'Top Risks for 2015'--she hadn't read it yet, herself, but she was well aware of all the issues listed there. But Don wasn't done being funny.<br/><br/>"What are you asking her for? She's just an actress." Then Don turned to face Sue, his voice dropping to something more appropriate to the foot separating them. "I thought you were WONDERFUL in that episode of Game of Thrones, by the way. Breaking Bad didn't know how to use you, that episode was NOT your fault--"<br/><br/>Susan simply did her best not to laugh, looking away from Don--maybe ignoring him--to answer not just Josh and Avaline, but the entire room of young media staffers that wanted to know what the Invisible Woman thought was 2015's biggest threat. It wasn't hard to swallow her laugh, when she got to thinking about it for all of a half-second...and all the dangers of the past came flooding into her mind.<br/><br/><em>Baroness Von Doom?</em><br/><br/>"In my experience, Josh, Avaline...the biggest threat to 2015, the Eurasia Group with it's think tank won't see coming. All of you, the broadcast media, journalists of all sorts...you won't see it coming. And what'll really put a scare into you this New Year's Eve?...we superheroes probably won't see it coming, either."<br/><br/>"But you'll totally be there to beat up whatever tries to steal the Earth's lunch money, right?"<br/><br/>Don was acting so silly, Susan turned back to him, and had to smile. "Don, sweetheart, go roll us another joint...before I hurt you."<br/><br/>Did he? Maybe Don meant to. But he was too intoxicated by the time Susan found him again, in just one of many rooms to his Manhattan penthouse flat. This time she found him not with a joint in his hands, but with a guitar in his hands, and a small crowd surrounding he and another young staffer who'd grabbed a guitar for the impromtu jam session.<br/><br/>Better yet? Susan knew the song, sliding inbetween the crowd to appear next to and just behind Don Kueller, her hand leaning on his shoulder at the very moment she joined his voice and a few others in song, "...I want to walk through the empty streets, feel something constant under my feet. But all the news reports recommend I stay indoors."<br/><br/>There were a few loud hoots and hollars at the mention of 'news reports' in this rowdy crowd of cable news journalists. Much as it made Susan laugh, she was able to stick with Don's voice as they sang the next part in duet: "Because the air outside'll make our cells divide at an alarming rate until our shells can no longer hold our insides in--and that's when we'll explode, and it won't be a pretty sight!"<br/><br/>Don and the junior staffer launched into accoustic guitar solos. Sue stole a quick kiss of the cheek from Don, her way of saying farewell without breaking the rhythme of his solo. Susan was now a little bit late to her 'other party', but considering Stark Tower was only a few blocks down the street from Don's building, she wouldn't even need to take a taxi. She even left not through the front door, but Don's balcony--waving to a few party goers and saying goodbye before literally launching from her feet, and disappearing quickly into the cold Manhattan night sky.<br/><br/>Her high heeled blue boots touched down just outside Stark's lounge, the blue leggings she wore with the light pink tank top and blue leather jacket, pink bangles and large pink hoop earrings, might have announced her presence--had she not arrived in stealth, inisible to everyone but the big nose inside. It was that 'big nose' in which Susan 'appeared' seated besides, scotch glass already in her hand as she took the bottle of scotch, appraising the sliced open bottle gingerly in her hand.<br/><br/>"Highland Park. 18 years, single malt...very nice." A quick pour, without any need for ice, and Susan placed the bottle on the very table Logan had settled his feet. Susan curled her feet underneath her body as she sat on the couch, sipping on her new glass of single malt Scotch. Before Logan could say much of anything in retort, Susan smiled at him. Her head lifting upward just-so, a quick 'what's up.' "Hey, bub. It's cold out there tonight."