The Launch Party ((Radiance))

[Spectra Lin]

Spectra's entrance into the party was nothing short of a grand spectacle. As she stepped into the event space, her presence immediately commanded attention. Those nearest seemed to pause momentarily, turning their many eyes to take in her arrival.

Spectra moved with practice and poise while the air around her buzzed with whispers and admiring glances. Wallets were angled her way, flashed, and captured her every move as she navigated the space with a the aura of accustomed glamour. Her smile was polished, a well-rehearsed charm that she bestowed upon onlookers and fellow celebrities alike. Though her demeanor was vaguely friendly, there was a veneer of posh detachment to it, a subtle barrier that maintained her superior status.

As she made her way through the party crowd, Spectra engaged in brief, courteous exchanges – a nod here, a light laugh there – each interaction measured and seemingly effortless. Her presence was an orchestrated blend of accessibility and aloofness, a skill honed from her years in the public eye.

Some time after her arrival while surveying the room, Spectra's gaze landed upon a man at the bar. She recognized him, though he was more finely dressed this time. A woman was at his side, pawing at him, well, Spectra couldn’t blame her given who it was she pawed. With a slight tilt of her head and a faint, enigmatic smile, she opted for a subtler approach.

Locking eyes with him for a moment, she offered a fleeting glance – an unspoken invitation laced with curiosity. It was a calculated move, designed to pique his interest. Spectra then turned away gracefully, her attention shifting back to the surrounding party. In her world, the allure was in the chase, and she had just set the stage, leaving it up to the man at the bar to make the next move… if he dared.

[Alistair Bishop]

The bar had been slightly elevated, allowing Nadya to scan the room. The lighting was dark, yet her eyes were adept at hunting in any light.

Nadya had leaned toward Alistair. "Do you see that guy wearing a gray suit, jacket, and glasses?" she had asked in her thick, rich Russian accent. Alistair had nodded. She had explained that he was worth over 1 billion, a major liquor buyer for the Family, whose group spent millions in their clubs. "We must keep him happy, no matter what," she had stressed, pausing to face Alistair and slowly emphasizing no…matter…what., hinting at needs beyond VIP passes and money. The gentleman had seen Nadya and nodded, smiling at Alistair and pulling his wife close, a gesture that communicated his desires. He had winked at Alistair before turning back to his group, moving his hand visibly down his wife's body. 

"Nadya, what the fuck was that?" Alistair had asked with annoyance. "I thought we were here to meet people, not to pimp me out to the Family's clientele."

"Oh little sparrow, you are so naïve," Nadya had replied in a thick Russian accent, pulling him close, her hand on his chest, the other around his waist. "Look at that group. Media moguls and gossip writers. They control the press and entertainment with their narratives," she leaned up to speak into his ear, then tugging him to follow her.

As they were walking toward the group, a woman had entered the room, capturing everyone's attention. Nadya had stopped them, noticing her looking right at them, seeing their eyes meet. "Alistair, do you have secrets you're not telling me? Do you know her?" she had inquired with a surprised tone.

"Yes, she is... well, we know each other well; you may need to keep your cage locked around me; I may fly away tonight." Alistair had coyly smirked, watching the woman turn and continued to walk.

"Well, Al Alistair, you may make my job easier than I thought. Let's go. We'll come back to that," Nadya said quickly under her breath before swiftly continuing their walk.

Alistair and Nadya had weaved through the crowd, hands laced, heading purposefully toward a group. Nadya had tapped the shoulder of a large man in the group, who had turned irritably before recognizing her. "What the fu..oh Nadya! Girl, come here," he had exclaimed, hugging her. "How are you? Mr. P gotcha busy?"

“Hey, JJ  business is hopping, keeping me out of trouble. Don’t you worry, I get my fun in.” Nadya takes a drink. Both exchange laughs, knowing Nadya is full of trouble. J turns to look at Alistair. “who is your boy? Is this Mr. P's new pony? What is your name, son?”

“Alistair,” He spoke in a brave yet demure tone. Only gave enough interest and breath to speak his name.

“You got a last name Alistair?” J said, his voice had boomed with bassy tones. He was a larger-than-life, charismatic character. 

“Bishop.” Alistair says, switching from a soft tone to a masculine pop, giving off an air of superiority, taking on the large man's presence as if it were a bout in the ring. “I’m sure your next question is to ask what I do, so let me tell you. I’m a fighter, about to be the best Moscow has ever seen. Make sure you tell everyone you know that I’m here.” Alistair, mixed with a little whiskey, fell right into the star prizefighter attraction Mr. P had envisioned. Cocky, sure of his abilities, and able to create a buzz.

As he spoke, a gossip writer pulled out her phone and had quickly texted her editor. "We've got a story. I'll call you in a few minutes. Huge ttyl"

Nadya knew that the art of seducing a person or a society involved creating an aura of something missing in the target of the seducer's life, giving them an escape from the mundane and letting them live through someone else.  It also involved scarcity. Once she had seen the gossip writer texting quickly and the rest of the party starting to lean in to find out more, she knew it was time to exit.

The seed had been planted. With that, Nadya took Alistair by the arm, saying, “J, good to see you. We need to go. Be sure to come see our boy fight soon.” Nadya led him away, obscuring them from the group's sight as they disappeared into the crown.

[Maksim Marveet]

As regulars at high-profile events, Maksim and his wife Alina entered the party with the smug air of unmistakable confidence and opulence. Maksim had the charismatic presence of someone who was well-accustomed to the attention, while Alina, with her connections to a more shadowy, influential world, exuded a refined yet formidable elegance. Their recent wedding was the highlight of Moscow’s social year, and anyone who was someone had an invitation to the 40 million dollar event.

As soon as the couple began to navigate through the party with the ease of seasoned socialites, they found familiar faces who stopped them to talk and toast. With their wealthy status (Maksim was the first heir of steel tycoon Scion Marveet and pocketing his own 3 billion dollar trust even before his inheritance was counted; assuming he didn’t piss it all away gambling) and rumors surrounding both the Marveet and the Vasilev families, they were quickly swallowed up by the party.

Maksim, who left Alina in the company of friends, embodied the 'life of the party' persona and headed straight for the bar, waving at those he knew along the way.  One of the people he spotted was Ipatiy Bogdanov, another one of the Russian mega-wealthy heirs to whom Maksim recently lost one of his McLaren P1s on a bet that he was still sure was staged. Ipatiy gave him a salute and then mimed driving and shifting gears, which turned into flipping him the middle finger as boisterous as he laughed. Maksim grumbled and summoned the bartender: “A Kvasya, if you please,” he requested, his choice of a classic Russian cocktail - vodka with a twist of cinnamon and ice. He sipped the spicy drink as he delivered his wife’s elaborate mocktail back to her. There Maksim raised his glass in a toast to the room and took the opportunity to see if his brother was in sight. Ezvin was there somewhere.

[Jensen James]

The clues clicked into place when he learned of Ezvin’s career. The effortless cool that Ezvin exuded and the ease with which he navigated the party all made sense now. He looked at him with fresh eyes, and saw someone so completely unlike anyone he’d ever known before. Even Darya's playful warnings couldn’t dampen a growing sense of attraction brewing within Jensen.

Ezvin’s invitation was as tempting as the fast-paced music filling the room. Jensen’s smile was hesitant, flattered but embarrassed at first, wary of the public display and the eyes that might follow their movements. He told himself the concern was all in his own head, but watching Ezvin, feeling the infectious beat of the music, something within him shifted.

Jensen moved closer, a mixture of excitement and nerves evident in his demeanor. “Yeah, let's dance," he answered.

Ezvin stole Jensen's hand and led him onto the dance floor. The music was a dynamic, upbeat tempo, and at first, Jensen moved with a cautious rhythm, his dancing reserved as he acclimated to the beat and the sensation of dancing across from Ezvin. But Ezvin guided him with ease, a hand here, a lead there, and soon, Jensen grew warm enough to wish he’d worn other clothing. He now understood why pictures of people at parties like this showed them in various stages of undress. It wasn’t immodesty, it was the temperature!

Gradually, Jensen found his own rhythm, the music and Ezvin’s presence coaxing him out of his shell. They danced in sync, their movements complementary – Ezvin’s bold and sweeping, Jensen’s more measured but increasingly confident. It was only a random moment of glancing aside when the people parted and he glimpsed a familiar face.

And he felt every drop of blood drain from his face. He only realized he’d stopped dancing when Ezvin touched him on the arm. Jensen licked his lips and left the dance floor in the opposite direction as Maksim.

He should leave immediately. The Custody already knew what happened at the hospital that night, and likely due to his Wallet, let alone the tracker in his arm, they knew exactly where he was. The moment they learned he was at a party with Maksim, Jensen assumed they would be furious.

He could tell Ezvin a work thing arose. Come to think of it, Ezvin hadn’t asked about his job, but maybe there simply hadn’t been the opportunity. The excuse would invite the question, though, and Jensen didn’t want to lie. The same dilemma faced him if he claimed a family emergency arose, given that his family was on the other side of the world.

He glanced over his shoulder to see if Maksim was still in view, luckily, he was blocked by the crowd dancing in the center of the room, and luckily Maksim hadn’t seemed to notice him back. It would put him in an awkward position if he had, recognition and then pretending to not know him. It was a burden Jensen didn’t want to impose upon him.

He sighed, feeling deflated either way.

"I'm sorry," he told Ezvin. "I saw someone I know that I'd rather not run into." The explanation was certainly true, even if he felt convicted over withholding the whole story.

[Aiden Finnegan]

Lasher trailed along Aiden Finnegan’s heels as the pair bound down the central staircase of their mansion. The work was very near to completion – only the interior decorator remained, and she was readying herself to move on within the week. The builders had done fine work; one might even believe that Aiden’s father, Seamus, had built the thing. Aiden had been proud of that. The locals in Suzdal had certainly approved if their gawking and picture-snapping was to be any indication.

Aiden was more or less happy. Sage had settled in nicely, Jaxen was more or less out of their hair after that unfortunate red-carpet encounter, there was no trouble from the Atharim, and there was serious talk about a Blarney Stoned reunion concert next year. Aiden was surprised to be happy about the last point, but Siobhan’s enthusiasm had always been infectious. That wasn’t even considering the Spear of Lugh. Aiden had finally accepted the fact that it might take him a lifetime to uncover its secrets. The idea had eased his impatience – that and the fact that the Spear almost seemed to be binding itself to him. Sparring with the thing had begun with a clumsy attempt, but this morning’s practice would have made an idle passerby think that Aiden had been practicing with the thing for years. It had to be Lugh’s influence.

It had been all work for Aiden, if not for Sage. He had insisted that they have a date night and attend a launch party. Aiden wasn’t entirely sure what it was for or who was launching what, but Sage had a way about him. Aiden would all but hand the Spear over if Sage had asked for it. Odd how the human heart could do that to an individual. It seemed like only yesterday that Aiden had felt love’s keen sting over Kyle Rice’s utter betrayal and now here he was falling head over heels for a humble hacker.

Aiden stepped onto the landing, feeling every inch the God that he was. A splash of raw rubies across the length of his shoulders made faceted fragments of light dance across the foyer’s walls, his bespoke crimson suit tailored perfectly to flatter his frame. There was no shirt underneath the coat, as had become his custom, but in its place was a polished leather harness that seemed to make his chest larger than it actually was. He turned his head to Sage and smirked devilishly.

Sage was certainly not as flashy, but the clothing he chose always flattered him – whether he knew it or not. Aiden had the sudden urge to pick the man up and carry him into the library to ravish him before the fireplace. There would be time enough for that after.

“You beat me again,” Aiden laughed as he took in the full frame of his boyfriend, “I’m beginning to think you should start setting alarms for me.”
 


 
Cooper was behind the wheel of the limo, as usual, as they made their way to the party – the partition was up tonight. Aiden swirled some whiskey in the crystal glass he held. Oh, he had started to take a break from the drink, but then the siren song had pulled too hard. Sage was nestled closely beside him. The pair had been enjoying a pleasant conversation before Aiden changed the subject entirely.

“Don’t be mad, but… Who exactly is this launch party for again? I swear I was listening, but between the upcoming book tour and my research with the Spear… there’s no excuse for it. I should know. You told me all about it and I wasn’t… listening like I should have been. That was neglectful. I’m sorry,” Aiden said matter-of-factly as he wrapped his right arm around Sage and pulled him in tight. He had fucked things up royally with Kyle Rice. There were bound to be slip-ups in relationships, but he would not spoil things again. Not with Sage.

Sage was too good.

[Sage]

Sage giggled at Aiden's confession about not listening. Thing was Sage new he wasn't listening. It wasn't disrespect, and Sage didn't really care one way or the other, Aiden put up with a lot of his quirks and this was just a minor thing. Sage was used to not listening himself so he couldn't exactly get mad. But Sage had never said who they were going to to see launch their new album. He didn't care. "I didn't say. i mean I could look it up, but it doesn't matter. I snuck our names on the list and its free food, free drink, and good music, I hope. And of course there is you, me and dancing." Which was about all Sage cared about -- Aiden needed to get out of the house. It was odd that it was Sage doing the prompting, but Sage had learned with Sasha's help that he had to get out once and a while, every month or so did it to keep that humanity close. Drifting off into cyberspace was dangerous for normal people, when it was a thought away -- it really was no wonder Sage was addicted to it.

The Radiance Hotel came into view with Aiden's arm wrapped around him and there was no way he could sit any closer unless he was sitting on top of the man. They might live together, but it felt like they hadn't seen each other in ages. Which wasn't the truth, they'd woken up in the same bed, and would go to sleep again the same way. Sage made a point of cuddling before bed -- but being out with Aiden was always fun -- maybe it was an ego boost. He didn't care.

The lobby was opulent, and the elevator was nice, even the music was fancy. Adrian Kane owned the joint. He'd nerve really met the man, but Sage had every trivial fact at his beck and call and he knew more than he should. He wondered if there were any hidden cameras in the place. His mind wandered a little as he hacked through the security without a trace and made the system his own little playground while he was here. Sage loved new toys.

He programmed a little script quickly to search for fun things, repurposed one of the scripts for Nox's search actually, Nox came in handy for a lot of things he never even knew about. Sage's grin was wide as they spilled out into the party itself. There were lots of people. Too many in fact. Not fire code violation too much -- just too much for Sage's likely. He put himself under Aiden's arm and made it look as though they were inseparable. And they would be until they found a safe spot in the place where Sage could get lost in the crowd.

Sage pointed to the banner with the picture of the album and the artists launching it. "That's who it is." he exclaimed with a whisper in Aiden's ear. Spectra Lin walked by. Several other faces of the same vein stood around tables chatting loudly. But Sage was looking through different eyes as he clung to Aiden's side seemingly lost in his loves scent and just there to be the trophy boyfriend. He knew it wasn't like that, but he let the audience think whatever they wanted, he could change the narrative anytime he wanted. Which reminded Sage to put an extra sensitive filter out for anything with Aiden's name on the web for the next few weeks. Who knew what people would write about him. Sage wouldn't let it stay bad press for long. Great press he sent viral.

[Ezvin Marveet]

The beat thumped around them. The dance crowd — no more than fifty or sixty people — pulsed to the rhythm of the music, a mix of deep bass and electronic sounds feeding the frenzy. Ezvin led them to the center of the floor, and surrounded almost shoulder to shoulder with people, he smiled in the shadows at his date and began to move to the rhythm.

As they danced, Jensen eventually found his liberation. The party, with its strobing lights and the collective vibe of the crowd, likely added to the inhibition. But it was Ezvin's guiding hand that was a steady presence on Jensen's waist, then shoulders, and eventually slipping his palm behind his neck really sparked his date alive. The dancing was less about intricate moves and more about enjoying the moment, about moving with the music, forgetting about everyone else, and seeing each other. Jensen, catching on to this, began to relax, and Ezvin felt it the moment he reciprocated. What a rush.

However, their dynamic changed abruptly. Jensen's expression shifted, and his dancing coming to an abrupt stop. Concerned, Ezvin paused just to witness Jensen cut through the crowd in departure.

Puzzled, and suddenly thrust out of this intimate moment together, Ezvin followed. When he caught up, he studied Jensen's obscenely beautiful face, trying to read the unsaid words behind his explanation. A thought crossed his mind, and he couldn't help but tease, hoping to lighten the mood. 
"It's an ex, isn't it. Breaking hearts all over the city?" Quickly, he noticed the genuine discomfort in Jensen's expression and shifted to a more sincere tone. "Hey, listen, whoever it is, we'll stay clear of them, okay?"

Ezvin's gaze then drifted across the room, landing on a striking figure. "Speaking of people we recognize, do you see that over there?" He pointed towards Aiden Finnegan, the famous rock star from Blarney Stoned. Aiden was dressed in a crimson suit adorned with rubies on the shoulders, a bold statement of style. 
“Damn! I am jealous of that suit. To be a rock-star, no? Let’s go say hi.” With a smug grin, Ezvin didn’t give Jensen the opportunity to reject the idea before leading him over.

They approached with all the laid-back air of the general party-atmosphere run-in. Ezvin was bold in the way he sought the rock-star’s eye, and complimented Aiden with the open palm of an offered handshake. 
“I am a huge fan. Can I buy you a drink?” He glanced at Aiden’s date, a good looking guy, brooding in all the right ways. “As just a fan of course.” He added for good measure. Of course, stars in Ezvin’s eyes were all well and good, but Ezvin was also a song-writer. If Aiden ever played one of Ezvin’s songs, and it became a hit, he would finally feel like he made it. But first step was to meet the guy.

[Spectra Lin]

Spectra glided through the party with the grace of someone who knew they were always under scrutiny. Her moves were calculated to draw as much attention as possible back to her. People parted for her naturally, eyes following her like she was above them, which in many ways, she was.

Her gaze swept over the room, taking in the who's who of the industry and social elite. Spectra was an expert at playing the social game. She paused occasionally to exchange pleasantries, her laugh light and her words carefully chosen, always leaving a lingering sense of intrigue as she moved on.

As she navigated the room, her eyes briefly met those of a certain someone. There was a flash of recognition between them, a silent acknowledgment of each other's presence, though she still never learned his name. She hadn’t cared to ask. Spectra noted the brief moment when his recognition lingered on her. However, when he made no move to approach, she mirrored his choice, maintaining her course through the party.

Spectra wasn't one to chase; her allure lay in being pursued. This unspoken game of glances and subtle acknowledgments was familiar to her, a dance she had mastered over years in the spotlight. The thrill for Spectra was in the anticipation, the possibility, not in the immediate gratification of an interaction.

[Maksim Marveet]

Maksim was easily in his element. The guys were all swapping stories, one-upping each other on their latest tales. A rock star performing at a birthday party. A container ship that sailed into international waters for a highly illegal weekend bender. It was racing on the ring roads that inspired Maksim to show off video of his latest acquisition: a Veyron X7, a ghostly beast of a sports car, high-tech, beautiful, aero, and powerful. In such a group, nobody would blink an eye at the cost as it was a drop in the bucket of their massive accounts, but Maksim had a second story to accompany it.

“A nice little prize after cashing in on a hell of a bet. Laid it all on some random American newcomer.” He explained to Svalov, a man he’d known since they were kids, another member of this micro-generation of heirs that began their lives under the Russian regime in adolescence and found themselves at the pinnacle of the CCD elite in adulthood.

Alina rolled her eyes playfully. She heard her husband brag about cars almost as much as he bragged about gambling. She seemed to smile at his childlike enthusiasm of winning at either.

“Ah! I see. Who is your secret source of gold, Max?” Svalov replied, laughing. “Do share!”

The question prompted him to switch the video from himself in the Veyron show room to a completely different atmosphere. It was a dark, industrial space that gave the impression of being a transient arena up for one night only.

The video was from the perspective of the front row, angled up at an elevated platform in the center. Alina would recognize the venue. She was at his side at the time of the event, sexy and gorgeous.

The man on the holo-screen delivered a punch that dropped his opponent so dramatically it was almost cartoonish. He was covered in sweat from a long exertion, or perhaps he was sprayed down beforehand to accentuate the bulges of muscles wrapping his bare chest. He wore little else but short shorts and snug wraps on his wrists. Everyone in the arena lusted after him, and every man in the arena shared that primal energy demonstrated on stage. Husband and wife though they were, Maksim and Alina practically ravaged each other once they returned home that night like first-time lovers from the high of it.

Svalov’s expression changed after watching the video to being the keeper of a smug secret himself.

“What?” Max questioned.

Svalov answered by nodding in a certain direction. As soon as Maksim followed the line of sight, he caught a glimpse of the fighter himself. The eyes of the others followed.

Maksim’s dark face broke into one of victorious smile. Alistair Bishop was walking among them.

He broke from the group, expecting Alina to follow, though he was in too much of a rush to confirm it.

Alistair was in the company of a gorgeous woman that Maksim didn’t recognize. Alina seemed to, though, but she remained silent in her assessment. He was also in the company of a man Maksim did recognize, an associate of Scion, his father’s. But then again, everyone claimed to be Scion’s associate to some degree. More so now that the Ascendancy had taken such a great interest in Scion’s success. Maksim was more than aware of the rumors that his father would soon take over as Privilege of DI once Valentin Sulteev retired. The promise felt imminent, and until proven otherwise, every member of the Moscow aristocracy wanted to remain in Scion’s good graces. Much of that extended to his firstborn son and main heir, Maksim.

JJ’s brows lifted high, recognizing Maksim Marveet in return. They shook hands.

“Maksim, my boy.” He greeted, but turned his charm and humble attention shortly after to Alina, “Mrs. Marveet,” he smiled coyly and kissed her hand. Maksim kept a firm eye on JJ as the older man's palm grazed his wife’s wrist.

“JJ, I would say its good to see you, but your nephew recently swindled me, and so, by all pride and honor, I must extend my pissed off anger to you for sharing the bloodline of assholes.” JJ’s accent was quite stronger than Maksim’s, but it was clear they were both blue-blooded Russians. The seriousness between the two men darkened for a moment. JJ waved over a worker, took two stopkas of vodka and gave one to Maksim.

“On behalf of Ipatiy I apologize…. that you had it coming.” He smirked. The two men clinked the shot glasses together, drank simultaneously, and afterward laughed in the cleared air.

Maksim turned to Alistair, introducing himself. “Maksim Marveet. I saw your first match. Brutal, man. Brutal.” The grin that accompanied the handshake said he highly approved.

[Sage]

Adoring fans approached Aiden all the time. To find another at a place like this was likely but they were at least more polite about it. He didn't mob his boyfriend, and he didn't kiss him either. That while Sage hadn't cared, and still didn't. Jaxen had pissed him off doing it. But that wasn't until after the fact. Sage rarely thought about what things made him feel in the height of things, he was usually too strung out on the network to find anything in anything until playback.

But he did his due diligence and used his identity capture on the new fan as he approached. Aiden's wallet pinged with a bullet point list of everything the man approaching had quickly on a publicly available search. And then he sent his little dogs to dig deeper into Jaxen's half brother. Aiden would know more about this man, than they did about him. And soon they would know more than anyone ever cared for Sage to know.

But Sage didn't need to scan the man with Ezvin. Jensen James -- healer of the Ascendancy, an acquaintance of Aria. One of the most powerful men on this planet who was now property of the Ascendancy himself. It seemed the Ascendancy collected more and more of men like Jensen. The nine, Nox, Jensen. Even Marcus Dubois ranked up there as the main man's little pets. Who else of power was under his nose? Too bad Sage wouldn't dig past public record when it came to him. All the dirt and fun he could find locked behind government doors. But the Atharim.... now that might be a thing. He didn't think long about a dastardly plan that was starting to form.

Instead he grinned at Jensen and held out his hand. "Jensen James, as I live and breath. What would Aria say if she saw you now." He said just as the other man's phone went off in his pocket. "You've come along way since your night fighting mist monsters." He leaned in and whispered loudly so the others would hear. "I hope none show up here. They seem to like you channelers -- and I think there is a smorgasbord of them showing up around Moscow. They could be anywhere."

---

Message to Jensen via a now uninstallable app placed on Jensen's wallet:

I know who you are, Iaomai. Your secret is safe with me. I have a friend I'd like you to meet. He has an affliction. Not looking for a cure, but your ability and my tech -- we could have some fun. ~The Wicked Truth