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Clarice and Callie go to the disco. Clarice does not like Beverly and chaos ensues. Not the good kind.



The disco Callie had chosen was not one that she was known to frequent. In fact, she didn't know the difference between a "good" club and a "bad" one, and had chosen this one based on the fact that it was one of the better known mutant clubs in the city. Its patronage was a mixture of mutants and average people alike, and played the usual hodgepodge of European house music, popular American tunes (of past and near present), as well as other random songs. For someone who wasn't exactly fond of going out dancing it seemed like a good place, and Callie hoped that Clarice would like it.

By the time the two arrived, the place was already filled with club goers dancing on the main floor, being blasted with lights of all different colors. The music was loud and overall atmosphere was energetic and festive. "I'm going to go grab a soda," Callie called above music to Clarice, who was standing right next to her. "Do you want anything?"

"Sex on the beach!" Clarice called, heading to the dance floor. She'd already had a couple glasses of wine before coming and was enjoying the club already. A guy came up to her and they began dancing, bodies pressed together, only their clothes separating them. This was definitely not like America and Clarice loved it.

The bar was crowded, but she had almost no trouble getting the barman's attention (one of the perks of wearing heels when you are already nearing six feet tall). It was only a few minutes later, but when Callie returned to where she had left Clarice she was already dancing alone. "What happened to your friend," she asked, handing over brightly colored beverage. She took a sip of her own drink, and found herself moving along with the music. She couldn't help it, that catchy Europop got her every time.

"He found his true love," Clarice replied, taking the drink and sipping it happily. Sex on the beach was love. She gestured to a gothic looking girl with some sort of design on the side of her face nearby. The guy was pressed against her as if she might disappear. Clarice didn't mind though, she hadn't even known his name. "What are you drinking?" she asked.

Callie laughed. "Yeah that tends to happen." She shrugged and twirled the drink in her hand. It was clear, but appeared colored thanks to the multitude of lights. "It's a soda, Beverly. Um... we grew up drinking it as an aperitif, but I drink it any time now. You want a try some?" There was a mischievous glint in her eyes as she held the glass up.

Shrugging, Clarice took the drink, taking a generous swallow. Almost as promptly, she spewed it out. "That is gross!" she exclaimed, making a pew, pew, pew sort of noise and taking a large gulp of her own drink to get rid of the taste in her mouth. "Eeeew!"

"Oh. I probably should have warned you, the taste is rather strong." She took another sip of the drink. It was one of those things where if you hadn't grown up with it, you probably wouldn't like it. The taste of quinine was strong, and everyone she had ever offered a drink to had reacted in a similar way. She didn't mind though, it provided some form of entertainment, plus it meant more for her. "Well at least now you can say you've tried it-"

Callie wad cut off by a loud "BOOM" that rang out over the loud music. She looked about frantically, trying to see if something had fallen, when the shriek of "BOMBA" drifted toward her ears. People started to rush out, panicking and pushing past, trying to reach the door.

"Come on." Callie grabbed Clarice's hand and gave it a sharp tug. "Run."

Clarice tensed as soon as the bomb went off, trying to determine what exactly was happening, but she was at a distinct disadvantage since she didn't speak Italian. As they tried to move through the crowd, she realized that there were too many people pressing together trying to get out and teleporting wasn't a safe choice, especially given all Clarice had been drinking. Do not drink and teleport. She'd only had one drink at the club, but there had been a lot of wine consumed at Callie's house throughout the afternoon, dinner and getting dressed. Someone knocked into Clarice and she fell taking Callie with her somewhat, smashing her head into a nearby table. This effectively separated the two girls and without realizing it, Clarice passed out.

Callie hit the floor, hard. While her head had been spared the blunt of the impact, the rest of her body hadn't been so lucky. Her hip was pressed against the stone as she curled up into a ball, closing her eyes and burying them in her arm to shield them from harm. People were rushing over her, many tripping or accidentally kicking the fallen girl, thus rendering her unable to get up. As soon as she could, Callie planned on pulling herself and Clarice to safety. For the moment, however, the only thing that the pink girl could concentrate on was the feeling of pointed stilettos and other shoes hit and sunk into her back, legs, arms, everywhere.

She was so used to the pain, that she didn't feel herself being lifted off the floor.