[b][u]0250 HRS
Rooftop Outside Aquarius Apartments, Bazaar Quarter, Poseidonis[/u][/b]

Had the visor of his prometheum helmet not been in the way, Mal would have rubbed at his eyes. As it stood a little grunt as he shifted his legs slightly to attempt to find [i]some[/i] comfortable position to stay in in this armour that was [i]just[/i] tight enough to be uncomfortable would have to suffice.

Stakeout duty was always just [i]so much fun.[/i]

Having spent the better part of a few hours now crouched in silence (by sheer virtue of running out of things to talk about) with the invisible and avowedly incognito (and possibly napping) [s]King of the Ocean[/s] [i]Cuttlefish[/i] to his right, a growing pile of empty vessels of the Atlantean equivalent of canned coffee his 'partner' grabbed out of a vending machine from the street below to his left and a whole bunch of [i]other people[/i] having fun across the street to his front, Malcolm allowed his mind to wander [i]just[/i] a bit. Despite his best efforts.

Some kid wearing a lampshade as a makeshift loincloth was dancing the samba atop some expensive-looking furniture to the amusement for a few girls and the chagrin of a pair of burly, well-dressed and overly-cologned gentlemen who abruptly showed him the door.

An older, professor-looking bloke was seated in a hot-tub smoking some form of herb even [i]he[/i] didn't recognize with his students.

A particularly [i]amorous[/i] local woman seemed to be chatting up everything on two legs at the bar.

[i][color=orangered]'...When was the last time I actually went out to a [b]party,[/b] anyway?'[/color][/i]

He racked his powerful brain for answers... and came up [i]depressingly dry.[/i] Not a good sign for a guy [i]literally incapable of forgetting anything.[/i]

Sure, he sat around and hung out with Irene and Anatoly once in a while back in Gotham, but that hardly counted. Neither did those fancy dinners he had to go to as Zoey's ward, constrained with formality and having to pretend to be some high-society schmuck and all.

It was around the time that Karen and Ophelia began to dance, and sing along to the music playing in that fancy-ass penthouse that the growing momentum of the boy's thoughts abruptly struck an epiphany. 

[i][color=orangered]'...Holy shit, [b]I have no life.'[/b][/color][/i]

A morose chuckle met that realization as he shook his head slightly, stomping that feeling down and going back to dutifully eyeing up the goings-on of a bunch of people having way more fun than him. 

Y'know, typical Mal stuff.

But for the life of him, he wasn't exactly seeing anything particularly [i]nefarious[/i] going on. [i]Sleazy[/i] maybe, but not nefarious.

Hell, the most eye-catching thing to his increasingly distracted mind going on in there right now was that Atlantean woman from earlier had found someone, a college girl, to get to know better at the bar... who seemed to be having a good time with all that attention.

The armour-clad teen's gaze abruptly halted at the sight, his brow furrowing beneath his helmet.

[color=orangered][i]'Waaaaaaiitaminute...'[/i][/color]

She was having [i]a real good time.[/i]

Her body was pumping out endorphins and adrenaline at a rate that really shouldn't have been possible with the three strawberry daiquiris in her gut while the neurons in her brain were slowing down to a crawl in a fashion that really shouldn't have been possible by [i]alcohol[/i] alone.

The end result? A girl who was probably a ninety pounds soaking wet with a head full of braces and clearly-a-nerd syndrome having the energy in that moment to run a triathlon end-to-end at a dead sprint also too sedate and placid from the chemical cocktail in her brain to remember her own goddamn name.  

[color=orangered]"...What the hell?"[/color]

Mal got his answer, it seemed, as a capsule slid down the barely-cognizant girl's throat via the other woman's [i]tongue.[/i] To meet with the two others he hadn't noticed were already in her stomach.

Right around the time her immune-system began to shut down. And some hazy, non-physical force he couldn't quite identify slowly began to pulse through her veins with greater and greater force.

Standing up slightly, the Watchdog's eyes scanned the rest of the room for more people in similar states of disarray, finding at least half a dozen other girls starting to at least show signs of what that unfortunate young miss at the bar was going through. Slower, perhaps due to a lower dosage.

[color=orangered][i]'Well, [b]shit.'[/b][/i][/color]

[color=orangered]"Karen. Not to ruin your little tango with Ophelia there, but I'm seeing at least six girls in the building with ya who seem to be on the precipice of one [i]hell[/i] of a trip. Each with a pill in their gut."[/color] He stated into his earpiece, quietly chiming [s]Orin[/s] [b]CAPTAIN CUTTLEFISH[/b] into the call as he did so. [color=orangered]"That geeky kid at the bar whose been swapping spit with the fancy local lady for the past half-hour has at least [i]three[/i] in her and looks ready to drop."[/color]

'Mako' shot his invisible-to-everyone-else partner in crime fighting a quick glance as he adjusted the straps on his wrist-mounted grapple, a slight edge coming to his voice.

[color=orangered]"That serial lip-mauler has a pocket full of those pills, probably your best bet to get a sample. [i]And get that girl some air.[/i]"[/color]