<em>The Living Blaze crouched on the ledge of the building, four stories above the floor, a look of deep introspection on his face.</em><br/><br/>Blaze was under no illusions that he was hidden; he didn't want to be.  He could already see some of the people below gawking at him, including a few that had seen him dealing with Bobby.  Even now he could see a few people with their phones pointed up at him, and he made a mental note to check Youtube at the library tomorrow to see how popular he was that night.  The last video posted about him was already up to nearly a million hits.  He got a little grin on his face; the guy that had recorded him had been in a great position to capture Blaze shooting tiny tendrils of flame over the would-be rapists ass all the way up Citadel Boulevard.  Maybe he'd let it go on for too long, and sure some of the comments blasted him for putting the guy in the burn unit, but when you were the mutant master of flame, you just had to accept these things.<br/><br/>He scanned over the people below, heating the air up around himself to ward off the higher altitude chill; Blaze hated being cold with a passion.   Below the clubbers moved about, and he let his eyes drift over them freely.  The women were dressed to attract eyes, and Blaze would have to be stone dead to not look at least a little.  He got his eye full of mini-skirts and tube tops, loving how no matter what time of year it was the women always had a little more flesh to show.  In the dead of winter he'd seen guys buried in layers of coats, and women wearing only enough to legally be considered clothed.   It seemed as though the colder it got, the less they wore.  He was fairly certain that should an Ice Age come, one survivor would be wearing six layers of fur and jackets while his girlfriend would be wearing pasties and a band-aid.<br/><br/>As he was about to take to the sky and see about having some more fun with the lowlifes of the city, he caught sight of something extraordinary entering one of the clubs.  He stood and leaned out, craning his head to see around the bouncer at the dark haired beauty making her way into the club.  He squinted, trying to get a better look at the barely concealed curves under her club clothes, whistling lowly to himself as she entered.  He considered for a few minutes, looking up and down the street at the passing people.<br/><br/>"You know, heroes need a night out too..."<br/><br/>In a moment he off, flying back to his apartment in a burst of speed and a short lick of flame trailing in the air.  Ten minutes later, Preston Scott made his way to the club, getting a rare lucky break and slipping past the line as the bouncers changed out.  Dressed in a Mindless Self Indulgence t-shirt and ripped jeans with a faded biker leather, he wouldn't go down in history as the best dressed alter-ego in Los Caballeros, but it was far less subtle than scarlet flames.<br/><br/>(http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s194/RequiemOgre/Etc/prestonscott.jpg)