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[sub][color=c3bbc9]Location: HERO One || Interacting: No one![/color][/sub][/center]
It was a few minutes past four in the evening, and Eliza had just arrived at HQ for the evening. Her dad was going to be here late anyway, so she certainly had enough time for violin practice – thankfully, because solo and ensemble was coming up and she was woefully unprepared. She’d spent most of the last few weeks working on material for her Red Instead fundraiser stream, which was supposed to be this weekend… a jar of Manic Panic dye remover and a jar of Rock’n’Roll Red clinked around in her backpack. 

Last year she’d had a grand total of 200 dollars in donations for the event, and this year she was hoping for twice that, even though her subscriber count hadn’t really changed… She had half a mind to get Patricia to show up for part of it, though she was sure the other girl had other obligations. Starbright would be sure to bring in the donation money, but he [i]certainly[/i] had some sort of gig to go to, or a photoshoot, or something.

Eliza tried not to be too bitter about Starbright’s fame – he just liked to [i]rub it in[/i], you know? Still, it was unbecoming to have that mindset about another performer. She forced positive thoughts into her brain as she greeted her father at the door (He was on front desk duty, [i]again[/i], as he always was.) [color=c3bbc9]“Hi dad! I’ll be in the usual spot,”[/color] she said, before swiping her ID and hopping in an elevator. 

Her “usual spot” was a semi-soundproofed room in the corner of the fifth floor, bare except for two chairs, a table, and now a portable music stand. Along the back wall was a full-length mirror, with a darkroom behind it that could fit two-dozen people in lecture-hall style seating, complete with tiny desks for ease of note taking.

“All the practice facilities that a hero could need” included a practice police interrogation room, it seemed, though it was almost never used. It was a critical skill for new heroes, though, both learning how to get information from uncooperative hostages and how not to surrender sensitive information in a situation where [i]they[/i] were hostage. It was also mirrored and semi-soundproofed, as previously mentioned, so it was an ideal practice space for a shy violinist. 

She tossed her backpack on the folding table, rummaging for her music folder and producing a binder of her personal work, in addition to the folder with her school solo, orchestra, and quartet music. She was only playing second violin in quartet this year, which she was very upset about, but she was also only an 11th grader and was in the senior quartet, so – she had that going for her, right? 

She set up her laptop with her looping pedals, which had been crammed in the outside pocket of her violin case, and grabbed her binder, which at the moment was full of catchy pop and rock tunes scored for two or three violins and a keyboard. They were all easy enough, there were just [i]a lot[/i] of them; she tried to put together about a two- or three-hour long stream for this thing. She flipped to a random one, intending to just use these to warm up before she switched to her solo, and proceeded to pull her violin from its case, rosining her bow liberally before beginning to play with some simple long tones, smoothly spilling into the accompaniment of one of the tunes. 

As she played, she forced herself to look up from her music at the one-way glass, making eye contact with herself even though it burned in the back of her skull and made her fingertips numb. The bow squawked, and she mumbled a curse as she instinctively rendered all but her instrument invisible. This was how she’d done the stream the last two years, invisible except for her violin – she’d stylized her youtube channel after that, “Inviolisible” (shut up, she was 13 when she picked it) where she practiced and performed in eyecatching locations with nothing more than her violin appearing to float and dance in mid frame. In the last three years she had garnered a grand total of 2,500 subscribers, which was a lot! But didn’t hold a candle to most musicians. Still, after last year’s stream she’d netted about 250 new… hopefully this year’s would be even better.

She painstakingly continued to try to bring herself back to visibility, now playing freely through a heavily ornamented variation of a recent Starbright chart-topper. She barely needed the music at this point, but she always preferred to hide herself in it… she glanced in the mirror and again, her fingers slipped, her heart dropped from her throat, and next thing she knew she was invisible again.

Dammit. She restarted the piece, trying to focus on the flow of the music and not on the taunting image of herself in the mirror. 
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[center][img] https://i.imgur.com/8tv7g5m.png[/img]
[sub][color=9ed7db]Interacting: Patricia [@canaryrose], Brie [@danvers], Tom [@kaijubaragon], GM [@hitman]![/color][/sub][/center]
Since they’d gotten here, Angie had done her best to make sure she, at least, wasn’t conspicuous. She’d gotten a (virgin) strawberry daiquiri and was sitting on a barstool, sipping on it and chattering away with the bartender, flashing glances to other patrons who hovered around and just generally acting like she was there for pleasure, not business.

As soon as Patricia returned, though that façade fell away. She placed her drink down on the counter, leaning in to give her undivided attention, and wincing sympathetically at Patricia’s disgusted expression. There was [i]no way[/i] that she was letting an underaged girl do this part of the job alone; she hadn’t been happy about the seduction idea either – why have Patti do it when Angie’s power was literally perfect for it? But the others hadn’t heard her complaints.

At Patricia’s suggestion of masquerading as a hired crew, Angelica shook her head. [color=9ed7db]“These two,”[/color] she said, pointing to Brie and Tom in turn, [color=9ed7db]“look like they could be hard enough to be worth their salt as a hired crew. I don’t. I can try to get in with you, though. I know you have your… cover, but I’m sure their big fancy meeting won’t mind another pretty woman. I just don’t want to leave you without backup in a room full of this guy’s lackeys.”[/color] 

She had changed before meeting the others here, and now wore a sheer lace wrap, black and sequined, over a dark burgundy red minidress and black platform boots. Her makeup was her usual cherry-red lipstick and somewhat oversized false eyelashes with a dramatic smoky eye, her hair piled up in a messy, hairsprayed updo. She hadn’t needed to be told twice that they were going clubbing.