<div class="floatleft">(http://i548.photobucket.com/albums/ii331/Nolifeking_photos/jac-vanek.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: impact;">Glamorous</span></span><br/><em>Blonde Fashionista, Petite Titan</em><br/><strong>STR:</strong>8<strong>SPE:</strong>0<strong>INT:</strong>2<br/><strong>DUR:</strong>4<strong>AGL:</strong>0<strong>PER:</strong>2<br/><br/><em>~At the League, In a Dark Hallway~</em><br/><br/>Great.  Another scientist.  At least that she surmised from the babbling, flow of words that possessed the classical quality of a researcher too lost in their own work to remember that it was time for lunch break.  That and the fact there was the talk of taking her to a lab to test out the limits of her super-strength.  Glamorous spent enough time dealing with all the would-be eggheads and their grandiose dreams at her day job at Sigma-Aldrich.  And now she was being held at gunpoint by a psychotic one, although all of them were psychos just waiting to happen.  You didn't coop yourself up in a large, white room and spent 16 hours a day titrating solutions and making isotopically-labeled standards for your experiments with little to no human contact, little to no natural light, and little to no basic hygiene without having a few screws loose.  And this idea was further reinforced once Nicole got a good look at the other woman.  She didn't know what bothered her more: the gas mask which colors clashed so severely with the rest of her outfit, the messy, loosely bundled blonde hair which probably have never seen a professional conditioner in its life, or the white bandages that were supposed to be a fashion statement?  A horrible faux pas that would never make it to the cover of Maxim except to highlight an example of what never to do?  She could feel her fingers itch something terrible; if they had met in any other setting, she would have been already hauling off the masked woman for an extreme make-over.  There were few things in life a good manicure, pedicure, full salon treatment, and La Mer face cream couldn't cure in any girl.<br/><br/>A large part of her wanted to sass back sarcastically as the eerie woman spoke, her voice sounding hollow from beneath the gasmask.  Even moreso when she got a good look at the thin arms of the other woman and knew that if she got in close that it would be a simple matter to subdue her and reverse their situations.  Except for the odd-looking gun, which she realized contained some type of tranquilizer or some such, and the bizarre appearance, Nicole was hardly frightened.  Compared to what had almost happened almost two years ago, this was nothing.  Nothing like having a two hundred-some pound man straddle you while you screamed your throat raw, your heart pounding so loudly from fear that you barely could breathe, hoping that somebody, anybody would hear and care enough to help.  While you felt the fabric of your shirt tearing as he gripped it and ripped upward.  As he...<br/><br/>She immediately clamped down on those thoughts; they were not helping matters any.  "Well, if I do get a choice, I think a hostage sounds much more reasonable.  I like to be conscious and I'm sure you don't want to go to the effort of either hauling me around by the ends of my ankles or finding some rope or something to tie me down."  Her voice still was a touch tart as Glamorous slowly came back to her feet, picking up her Prada shades which had fallen to the ground in her ungainly tumble.  While she was doing so, she subtly gauged the distance between them...and realize the woman was smart.  Damned smart.  The distance was literally perfect--too far to rush, yet close enough that she didn't have any sort of cover to hide behind.  Nothing to duck around or beneath and her suspicions were confirmed when she took a small, mincing half-step forward and the other woman instantaneously readjusted their distance once more.  And she grudgingly raised her respect; apparently, being a psychotic scientist didn't mean you weren't observant.<br/><br/>Of course, she could always attempt a ground stomp and use her super-strength to force a mini-quake to unbalance the other woman, but it didn't seem worth the risk.  It'd be an option to save if push came to shove in the next few minutes.<br/><br/>"Though I do need my bag.  I am<em><strong>not</strong></em>leaving it behind."  She added, her voice was adamant.  "And you'll have to tell me where to go because I have absolutely no clue where I am."  A slightly sly look come on those innocent features.  "Unless of course you want to lead the way, but somehow I doubt you're that trusting."<br/><br/>Deciding on a small gamble, Nicole boldly strode over to where she had flung her Neverfull and picked up it up before mournfully examining the contents to determine the extent of the damage.  Perhaps ironically but she seemed to ignore the wall and the crater where the bag had struck.  Upon closer inspection, the crater was the size of a SUV wheel with several inches of indentation.  And the thought became even more mind-boggling when one realized that it was the equivalent of another woman tossing her bag a few feet and that Nicole hadn't even been trying to throw it very hard.  Fortunately, Loius Vuittons were made to withstand abuse of every sort so it was still in pristine condition.  A shattered compact was the singular victim, which normally wouldn't be too devastating.  Except it and the contents for lipstick, eyeshadow, and mascara had been half of her paycheck for the month.  Though on the bright side, Glamorous did have three or four backups back at her condo; she simply needed to get back and pick another one out.  And then go shopping to replace the broken one.<br/><br/>After taking another minute or two to make sure everything was in order, she slung it back over her shoulder and pulled out her iPhone before irritatedly glancing at the lack of reception.  Somehow, it was still intact as well testifying of the craftsmanship that had gone into it.  That and the hard-shelled case that Nicole had bought for it, being almost as expensive as the phone.  After all, it did have the Juicy Couture boldly etched onto the case as well as a promise to withstand a twenty-story window fall.  "Okay, let's go and get out of here.  I want a place where I can get signal again; I need to make a few calls after this is over."